Phoebe's Gift

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “Phoebe is like her grandma—if you haven’t figured that out yet. That’s why I had the courage to speak with her the other morning. I struggle, even if it looks as if I don’t. I wonder what is right. I really do. I toss and turn in my bed at night thinking about what I will lose.” She nodded her head to indicate the interior of the schoolhouse. “This is what I never dreamed I would have: honor, respect, and trust. It has been handed to me because of you.”

  “I—” he began, but she stopped him.

  “Let’s not pretend that’s not true. I would not have this if it were not for you and Phoebe. Does that rankle me? I’ll be honest. Yah. Do I owe you a debt? Yah, again. But do you want me to make my decision based on my obligation to you?”

  “I want you to let go of your bitterness. That’s all I ask. And whatever happens, happens.”

  She came close to kiss him on the cheek. He saw tears glistening in her eyes. “You are the best, big brother. The Lord won’t take Phoebe from you. The Lord couldn’t.”

  He stood. “I’d best be going, then. I’ve said what I wanted to say.”

  “Did you promise Phoebe you would come up?” she guessed.

  “Yah. But I would have come anyway.”

  “I know.” She stroked his arm. “You’ll be okay. They believe in you, but they don’t really believe in me.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

  “It’s only the truth. I have to face it, David.”

  He dropped his gaze. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. Are you stopping in at Phoebe’s place on the way back?”

  He hesitated. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “You should let her know tonight that you spoke with me. Tell her what I told you.”

  “That we’ll make it?”

  She laughed. “I guess that is a little forward.”

  “I wish you would treasure the lives we have, Ruth. What has been given to us doesn’t compare to what is out there.”

  Her tears came again. “Your faith is a beautiful thing, David. I just don’t know if I share it.”

  “But you can.”

  “I am not you, David. Nor am I Phoebe.”

  “You are you, Ruth. You don’t belong with Ethan.”

  Her face hardened. “I have to decide that. Not you, or Phoebe, or anyone else.”

  “I agree,” he said, stepping back. “I should be going. I’ll keep the back door unlocked.”

  “Thank you.” She tried to smile. “And thanks to both you and Phoebe for giving me the room to decide. You should stop and tell her that.”

  “Good night.” He placed his hand on the doorknob, turned it, and went out into the darkness. The dim light from the gas lantern inside cast his shadow until he reached the playground. He paused to allow his eyes to adjust and continued cautiously. A few moments later his shoe dinged on home plate. With his hands outstretched he avoided the swing set and found his way back to Peckville Road.

  The starlight helped as he headed westward. Should he follow Ruth’s suggestion and stop in to see Phoebe? The hour wasn’t that late, but still. What would he tell her? Much of the conversation couldn’t be repeated, especially Ruth’s assurances that his and Phoebe’s relationship would survive if Ruth jumped the fence. They loved each other, but such words should not be spoken at this junction of the road. If Phoebe were his promised one, then maybe.

  He must pray in this hour of need. Grandma Lapp had been a praying woman. Maybe that was why Phoebe had opened her heart to him, and where he found the courage to believe. Phoebe would wish to pray with him tonight.

  David turned north, and a few minutes later his feet crunched on the gravel of Grandma Lapp’s driveway. Phoebe cracked the front door open to his tentative knock. “Who is it?”

  “David,” he whispered. “I’m on my way home from seeing Ruth.”

  The door opened all the way. “You will come in then.”

  He stepped inside. “Just for a minute. We must pray.”

  She met his anxious gaze and took his hand. “Is Ruth struggling with her decision?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you want to sit on the couch?”

  “I shouldn’t stay,” he objected. “I just wanted to let you know.”

  “We can pray now,” she said, still holding his hand.

  He hesitated before he bowed his head. Her tenderness overwhelmed him, and the words wouldn’t come.

  “Dear Lord,” she whispered. “You know Ruth’s heart better than we do. Bring hope and healing whatever she decides tonight. Let her not regret the decision she has to make, and take away all the bitterness. Forgive us our sins, Lord, as we forgive those who have wronged us, and we thank You for what You have done in the past, and for what You will do in the future. Thank You for being with us this week in our troubles—and whatever comes, give David and me the courage to face those challenges. Amen.”

  “Amen,” he echoed.

  She still held his hand with her eyes closed.

  “Send Your angels to minister to Ruth tonight,” he began. “Let her see clearly what lies ahead, and help her make the right choice, whatever that is. And help me go on.” His voice broke, and her hand tightened in his. “And thank You, Lord,” he continued. “I know You will help me.”

  She was smiling up at him when he opened his eyes. “We’ll make it, David.”

  He nodded and stepped back out into the darkness again as the door closed softly behind him.

  THIRTY

  An hour later Ruth found her way out of the schoolhouse lane and slipped down Peckville Road. The lanterns were still lit in the Yoders’ house, but that was no surprise. They were known for their industriousness and late work hours. At home Daett would have retired by now. To his credit, Daett rose before dawn, but that didn’t necessarily ensure success. He should have plied some trade other than farming, maybe a harness shop or a bulk food store. Daett would have been goot with numbers and people, but he was who he was. The lessons of farming had never taken.

  The opinion of the community was correct. Daett did mow his hay the day before the rains arrived. Sometimes he missed the dreaded occurrence, but usually not. Others could call the weather to the hour and have their hay mower in the field while the last drops of the spring showers cleared the sky. Daett waited, cautious as ever, wanting to see the sun well up, and the fields dried out before he ventured forth. By the time his hay was on the ground, the others were ready to bale, and storm clouds gathered on the horizon again. Daett would stand in stunned disbelief as the others threw the last of their hay bales into the barn loft, while he watched his almost dried hay swell with the soaking rain.

  Surely he must have tried to change his ways, but he couldn’t. His instincts of caution drove all else from his mind. Was this why she was so reckless, wanting to walk anywhere but in her father’s footsteps, wanting to escape the shame of the years?

  “She’s Leroy Fisher’s daughter.” How often the words had been whispered within her hearing. She first heard them being spoken by children on the school playground, advising their visiting cousins or some new family who had moved into the valley, of who was whom.

  “He cuts his hay in the rain,” had been a child’s interpretation of her father’s doings.

  Which was close enough. The pain was what mattered, the deep cutting sensation of knowing that the man who had given you life didn’t know what he was doing. What hope was there after that? She was a mistake at best. Ruth pressed back tears and left the Yoders’ lantern light behind to hurry down Peckville Road. Ethan was to meet her at the junction below the schoolhouse in ten minutes. She would be there ahead of time. Perhaps as she waited she would shed these bitter memories. Her brother didn’t seem to suffer from them, which was goot. She wanted happiness and joy for David and Phoebe. He wouldn’t be like Daett. Already he knew farming. Didn’t Grandma Lapp’s acres prosper under David’s care, and now the venture with the Englisha children? D
avid was a success, and Phoebe had noticed before anyone else did. This was to her credit, but no one had noticed Ruth until David’s shadow reached her. She would not hold this against him but against the community. The pain had always come from home.

  Ruth stopped short at the sound of a horse’s hooves beating from the north. Buggy lights turned down Peckville road moments later. Who would be out this late? She pulled her head up high. She was the community’s schoolteacher, on her way home from work. She would not be ashamed of herself. No one need know about her evening plans.

  Ruth stepped to the side of the road as the buggy came closer and slowed. The horse stopped across from her, the reins taut. “Goot evening, Ruth,” Deacon Matthew called out cheerfully. “Heading home from a hard day’s work?”

  “Yah.” She managed to smile as she turned her face toward the buggy lights. She had not lied.

  Deacon Matthew chuckled. “I’m out a little late myself. Going up to the Yoders’ place, but they should still be up.” The chuckle deepened.

  “They had lights on moments ago,” Ruth replied. “How’s Mary?”

  “Getting along. How are you doing after the accident this week?” The deacon’s voice was concerned.

  “Okay, I guess. I spend more time on the playground.”

  “That’s goot, but you must not blame yourself. The injury could have happened no matter what.”

  “I suppose so. But I still should have been out with the students. I’m sorry about that.”

  “I’m glad to see your goot heart demonstrated.” Deacon Matthew clucked to his horse. “I should be going. It’s late, you know.”

  She attempted another smile, but he had already let out the reins. Ruth watched the lights retreat and grow dim in the distance. She was the community’s schoolteacher. There was no other reason for Deacon Matthew’s friendliness. Months ago he wouldn’t have pulled to stop for conversation if he had passed her on the road. Couldn’t people see her behind the family’s reputation? Apparently not. Nor could any men of marriageable age. There were too many other options available to take a chance on one whose daett was such a disgrace.

  Ruth forced her steps forward. She would go out with Ethan tonight and forget all of this—at least for a few hours. He might have another concert they could attend until the early morning. David might suffer from her choice, but he would survive. Phoebe would see to that, while she…

  Ruth paused as headlights appeared from the south, but they didn’t slow when they drew closer. The car roared past, and darkness settled again. Ethan would arrive any moment. The intersection ahead was visible in the starlight, and he wouldn’t be scared away by Deacon Matthew’s passing. Ethan would laugh at such fears, but he hadn’t grown up under the community’s watchful eye or tender loving care.

  Ruth laughed bitterly. She needed a distraction. Badly! So where was Ethan? He should have been here by now. He wasn’t known for his tardiness. She paced across the intersection to peer into the darkness in either direction. There were no headlights anywhere. Should she return to the schoolhouse? But she would miss him if he was in one of the passing vehicles.

  Ruth thought of the phone shack near the schoolhouse. She could call his cell phone from there and keep a watchful eye on the road at the same time. Ruth turned her steps backward when buggy lights came out of the Yoders’ driveway ahead of her. This would not work. With a wild look around her, she fled into the ditch and hid behind a growth of bushes. What a fix she’d be in if Ethan chose this moment to make his entrance. She could imagine him stopping and asking Deacon Matthew if he had seen her on the road. That’s how little Ethan understood or was willing to learn about her people.

  Deacon Matthew’s horse passed with a steady clip of hooves on the pavement. Ruth didn’t move until the buggy lights were out of sight. There was still no sign of Ethan. Ruth moved forward again but stopped a few feet away from the shadowy phone booth. A record would be kept of the call, but she would take the chance.

  Ruth opened the door and punched the numbers in by starlight. The phone rang in her ear, once, twice…nothing. Finally, Ethan’s voice mail greeting: “You have reached Ethan. Please leave a message.”

  Was the man on call? Had an emergency come up? There would have been no way to notify her. Or had he forgotten about their date? Ruth grimaced. That was not like the man she knew, and Ethan wasn’t unkind. Not like the community.

  He was an oasis, a calm in the storm, a hope where she had never had one before. Ethan gave her new life, the promise of a fresh start, a way out where only pain and suffering existed.

  Ruth paced and waited. She walked down to the junction and back again. She dialed once more with the same result. How could he know she called from the phone shack? He wouldn’t know the number, so he would pick up. Unless…Ruth took a breath. The pain was too much. There must be some explanation. Ethan had never done this to her. His word was his word. They trusted each other. They were friends. They would work through this. Yet he wasn’t here. She must give him the benefit of the doubt. The dawn would arrive, and he would have an excuse that made sense.

  The barn door across from the road burst open, and the lantern light spilled across the yard. Ruth gasped and threw herself behind the phone shack. Thankfully, the thin plywood sides kept out the light and could hide her securely. Unless she already had been seen? In which case, there was no ready explanation for why the community’s schoolteacher would hide behind the phone shack at ten thirty on a Friday evening. The Yoders would have a field of gossip about that, and Deacon Matthew would become involved.

  There was no way she could talk herself out of this situation. Especially since Deacon Matthew had seen her earlier heading harmlessly toward home. Perhaps the hour for the truth had arrived. The moment would be a relief in a way. No more sneaking around. She would be out of a schoolteaching job on Monday morning, but she could join Ethan in his world without a backward glance.

  Ruth held her breath as footsteps approached and entered the phone shack. Numbers were punched, and the faint ring of a phone reached her ears.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” the youngest of the Yoder boys, John, said plainly enough.

  Ruth stilled a gasp. Now she was listening to a private conversation. Could things get worse?

  “Yah, I’m missing you too,” John cooed, “but I can’t get away tonight. Tomorrow night maybe.”

  John wasn’t of rumspringa age yet. The boy couldn’t be more than fifteen. Maybe fourteen. Hadn’t he been in school last year in the eighth grade?

  “What are you doing tonight?” John continued sweetly. “Thinking about me?”

  There was soft laughter. Apparently John was having endearments whispered into his ear.

  Did Emil Yoder approve of his youngest son’s early foray into rumspringa? Did Emil even know? Ruth’s mind swirled, and her anger stirred.

  “You’ll be picking me up down at the junction then,” John was saying. “The usual time, yah? Dim your lights. Don’t forget.” There was silence for a few moments, then, “You’re sweet, dearest. The sweetest and the best.”

  Young John had a sugar tongue for sure. He’d be able to talk milk out of a bull cow.

  Ruth dug her fingers into the ground. She had to keep her anger in check. Nothing would be gained by an explosion, and no explanation would save her reputation—unjust though this all was.

  John was wrapping up his conversation. “You sleep tight now, dear heart. Love you. Remember that. Always and forever.”

  Ruth heard deep chuckles and a kissing sound coming through the receiver. She stilled a bitter protest as the phone clicked and young John laughed. “Isn’t she the sweetest? They don’t make Amish girls like that.”

  Ruth’s fingers twitched. She wasn’t going to move. She couldn’t.

  His footsteps faded away along with the glare of the lantern he’d brought with him. Ruth peeked around the edge of the phone shack, and when the light went behind a clump of trees, she fled down the road. Here she was, ru
nning away when John was at fault. But if he ever learned that she had listened in to his conversation, her reputation wouldn’t survive even though she was the community’s schoolteacher.

  Ruth paused to catch her breath at the junction. There was still no sign of Ethan. He wasn’t coming. She might as well face the facts. She knew he answered his phone even when he was on emergency calls. He didn’t want to speak with her tonight. She might as well bear the pain. Right now there was only numbness from this rejection, this dashing of high hopes and dreams. Not once in her life had she known a man who truly loved her. Tears stung again as Ruth pushed her feet southward toward home. Only, Leroy Fisher’s place wasn’t home to her. Nowhere was home. Not really. The north, the south, the east, the west—what difference did it make?

  THIRTY-ONE

  Phoebe stood on the front porch on Monday morning and waved as Ethan drove the van into the driveway. David stood silently beside her.

  “Good morning, folks.” Ethan hopped out. “I have Wesley with me this morning.” He helped the boy down and patted him on the head.

  The new arrival, a young boy of ten, seemed frozen to the ground where Ethan left him. David approached their latest charge while Ethan lowered Wesley’s suitcase to the ground and motioned for Phoebe to follow him behind the van.

  “I think you can handle Wesley, but I have to mention this. The boy has a speech impediment. He stutters. We think that a week on the farm may do him more good than the psychological counseling and speech therapy we’ve been giving him.”

  Phoebe shrugged. “A lot of young boys stutter.”

  “There you go. You are just the right people for him.” Ethan gave her a bright smile and hopped back in the van to drive out of the lane. Phoebe followed Ethan’s progress as he disappeared from sight. Wesley seemed like a small problem compared to the weight that had been on her shoulders all weekend. What had Ruth’s decision been last Friday? There hadn’t been time to ask David before Ethan arrived. Surely Ruth had made the correct choice and cut off her relationship with Ethan. This would explain why David had been late this morning. He must have been encouraging his sister’s broken heart. Ethan’s abrupt departure pointed toward this conclusion.