Holding a Tender Heart

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Joe didn’t even glance at the paper. He stared at Verna instead. “Where did this come from?”

  “I got it from your lawyer,” Debbie spoke up. “Don’t blame anyone but me.”

  Joe met her gaze. “It’s not a matter of blame, Debbie. It’s what can and cannot be done. We don’t believe in doing things the way the world does them. This lawyer already tried to talk me into suing my accuser. I know you come from another world, but suing people is not how we live.”

  “Joe, please.” Verna was close to tears. “This is not about suing anyone. It’s only proving where you were at certain times. There’s nothing wrong with this.”

  Joe seemed to waver, so Debbie plunged forward. “Okay, so let me ask the questions of these witnesses—if there are any. You don’t even have to get involved. But you can surely tell us who they are—or if there are witnesses to your whereabouts at these times.”

  Joe thought for a moment. “Perhaps I could do that. If you’re both agreed that this is right.”

  “Oh, Joe!” Verna clung to his arm. “We are!”

  “There’s nothing wrong with this.” Debbie pointed to the paper Joe was still holding. “Who would know your whereabouts on those nights and on those dates? Hopefully someone who isn’t family and who is reputable.”

  Joe studied the paper for a long time. His face grew dark. “These are all weekend nights, Verna. Fridays and Saturdays. I cannot do this.”

  “For us, Joe! Please!” Verna begged.

  Debbie saw him weaken and his hand tremble.

  “Okay, I will tell you who knows, but I will say no more. If he decides not to speak, you must hold nothing against him. Promise me that.”

  “He will speak, Joe!” Verna had tears on her face.

  Joe said, “The man is Paul Wagler. He’s already offered to help in whatever way he can. It’s just that there will be trouble for him in the community if he is asked to testify in court. I don’t want to ask him, Verna.”

  “Then we will ask him,” Verna said, her face glowing. “We need to ask him by Friday morning. That’s when you have your appointment with the lawyer, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” Joe looked at the ground. “But you mustn’t ask him, Verna. Debbie must. It’s the only way Paul will feel free with his choice. He must not be pressured, and you are the bishop’s daughter.”

  Verna’s face shone. “We must go then. And thank you, Joe. Only Debbie will speak with Paul, I promise.”

  “I must get back to my work.” Joe turned to go and gave a little wave over his shoulder.

  Verna didn’t wait for Joe to reach his team before she’d untied Buttercup. Soon the girls were driving out of the lane, Buttercup moving along at a brisk trot. Verna took the lines this time.

  Debbie’s mind was already reeling with what she must do. What on earth would Paul think of her when she went to see him alone? Would he think she’d orchestrated the visit? But she hadn’t, and he would have to understand that. She would see to it that no fancy ideas entered his head.

  “Oh, Debbie!” Verna held the lines in one hand and squeezed her friend’s arm with the other. “Thank you! Thank you! I can’t thank you enough for helping us.”

  “The Amish do make things harder,” Debbie ventured. “Why didn’t Joe volunteer this information a long time ago? Especially if Paul offered to help?”

  “It’s his gut heart,” Verna replied. “And we Amish don’t like to deal with the Englisha law. But you must not hold that against him. I love Joe even more for wanting to spare Paul from having to testify, especially if, as Joe says, it will cause trouble for Paul.”

  Debbie nodded. Yes, that was like Joe. For that reason alone Debbie would be glad to help if she could. But seeing Paul Wagler? She sighed. She really didn’t look forward to that visit at all.

  Thirty-Two

  Two hours later Debbie parked her car close to the Waglers’ barn. She climbed out and closed the car door with care. The silence of the place rushed over her. No one was in sight. Though she’d driven her car, she was still in her Amish dress—at Verna’s insistence.

  Debbie approached the barn and peeked in. “Hello? Is anyone here?” A few of the horses banged against their stalls. She turned and walked past her car and across the lawn. The front door of the house opened before she got up the steps. Before her the smiling face of Paul’s mamm, Lavina, appeared.

  “Well, if it isn’t Debbie!” Lavina gushed. “What brings you out here…and with your…” Lavina took the car in with a quick glance, but her smile was back in an instant. “Why don’t you come in, Debbie? I can get some cold lemonade squeezed right away. It gets right warm on these summer afternoons.”

  Debbie cleared her throat. “I need to speak with Paul, Mrs. Wagler. That’s why I checked at the barn first. I don’t wish to take up your time. I’m sure you’re busy.”

  Lavina waved vaguely. “All the men are down at Silas Warners’ place, helping with the hay making. You can drive down and see if Paul has a few moments. But first I insist on a glass of lemonade. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew Bishop Beiler’s Debbie had been here and I sent her away without any refreshment.”

  “Really, please, it’s not necessary,” Debbie tried to keep her voice firm, but resistance was useless. The look on Lavina’s face said she wouldn’t take no for an answer. And it did warm her heart—those few words Lavina had spoken…Bishop Beiler’s Debbie. The sound was like music to her ears. How could she resist? She’d been accepted in the community—at least by some people. This was a delightful moment indeed, and so unexpected in the middle of a hectic day.

  Lavina led the way into the kitchen chattering up a storm.

  “Oh, Debbie! Paul speaks about you all the time. I hope you don’t mind. It’s not every day that we get to see such a wunderbah thing happening right in front of our eyes. An Englisha person—and a girl at that—coming in from the world to join the faith. I told myself this very week, ‘I’m sure Debbie has plans to join the membership class this fall.’ I can tell by the way your face looks so peaceful at the Sunday morning services. It’s like you’ve arrived where many of our young people ought to be.” Lavina clucked her tongue and barely paused to catch Debbie’s quick nod. She hadn’t exactly planned to divulge the information about the baptism class, but this deluge of praise unsettled her.

  “Yes, I do think I’ll join the class—if Bishop Beiler agrees to it. But I haven’t talked about it yet. Not even with the bishop.”

  Lavina now energetically fixed the lemonade. “Your secret is safe with me! Not a word to anyone—not even Paul. Although I think he suspects it already. But there I go, saying things I shouldn’t…Do sit down a minute,” Lavina said, setting two cool glasses on the table. Then she plopped down in the chair across from Debbie.

  “This is my own little blend.” Lavina beamed. “Just a pinch of salt to bring out the flavor, but not too much or it spoils it. Paul says only I can pull it off. He says he’s never tasted lemonade quite like his mamm’s.”

  Debbie hid her face behind the glass for a moment, as she gathered herself together. “It does look like wonderful lemonade, Lavina.” Debbie forced herself to take a long sip, but swallowed with care. Seconds later she made no effort to hide her pleasure. “My, this is good!”

  Lavina lowered her head modestly. She picked up her glass and took a sip.

  “You’ll have to give me the recipe someday. Lois is attempting to teach me cooking skills, but I’m a slow learner.”

  “I’m sure you’re doing fine.” Lavina sipped on her lemonade and appeared pensive. “My Paul’s a hard man to please sometimes. He’s seen too much of the world, I think. There were years there when I worried about him more than all of the others put together. I’ve been on him this last year to make his choice of a frau, but he doesn’t see a girl who catches his fancy, he claims.” Lavina cast a meaningful look Debbie’s way.

  Debbie stood, the glass of lemonade half finished. She tried to ignore the obvious insin
uation. “Thank you, Mrs. Wagler. This lemonade is wonderful. And now I’m sure I’m keeping you from your chores. I really must go.”

  “Think nothing of it.” Lavina waved her hand again. “The men are down the road about two miles, on the left, with their wagons. You can’t miss them. And take the rest of the lemonade with you. Paul can bring back the glass.”

  Debbie hesitated but finally agreed. Protest was useless, and the lemonade was delicious.

  “See you again!” Lavina said, waving from the front door as Debbie dashed across the lawn. She must look like a real Amish woman now, Debbie thought with a grin. Lemonade glass in hand, Amish dress flowing behind her. And from Lavina’s words, she had the interest of an eligible Amish man—and all before she’d joined the baptismal class. Talk about accomplishments! She ought to practically glow. And she would, if it had been Alvin Knepp’s mother who had served her this lemonade. But Paul Wagler’s mamm? That was a different story altogether.

  Debbie climbed into her car, started it up, and made the turn out of the driveway. On the way out, she waved to Lavina still standing on the front porch. Debbie comforted herself. That Paul was interested in her wasn’t her doing. She’d never given any encouragement to him.

  Now she had a more urgent matter to think about. Did she really want to walk in on a hayfield full of Amish men and ask to speak with Paul? No, she most certainly did not! But duty called, and if she were to come back this evening to talk to Paul, would that be any better? His mamm would hang around in the background and read things into her every move. No, she would face the music now and hope for the best. And it was worth the grief if she could help Joe and Verna. So, yes, she would speak with Paul now.

  Debbie drove in the direction Lavina had indicated and soon saw the wagons in the field beside the road. A small lane led in, and Debbie turned on it and bounced to a stop. What a sight she must make, she thought as she climbed out. Thankfully someone was already coming toward her so she wouldn’t stand here long looking like a dunce. The man hadn’t come far across the field before she recognized him as Paul.

  He came to stop a few feet away and pushed his straw hat back on his head. “Debbie! What a surprise. What’s a beautiful Englisha girl like you doing here in a hayfield?”

  “I’m Amish,” she shot back and pointed at her dress. “See?”

  He grinned. “I do see, but it explains nothing. Did the Beilers’ house burn down?”

  “Would you be serious for a minute?” Debbie scolded. “I wouldn’t have come out here over just anything. It’s important.”

  “Okay.” He leaned against her car, settling most of his weight on one foot. He waited with a patient look on his face.

  Debbie glared at him. “It’s about Joe, Paul. His lawyer says he needs alibis for the dates of the robberies.” She handed him the paper. “Joe claims you would know about this, and that you’ve already offered to help. Joe wouldn’t say more than that. He wasn’t very excited about asking you to help. I take it you two were traveling on the dark side of life at the time.”

  “And Joe wants me to divulge his secrets?” Paul winced. “I was afraid things would come to this.”

  “Well, it won’t do any good for Joe to say where he was. Who will believe him without a witness? He needs someone to vouch for him. And if there are unsavory details, it might actually make things look better for Joe…a hesitant witness on your part, shall we say.”

  “I see.” He squinted into the sun. “An upside-down world. That’s what the Englisha run.”

  “You don’t have to malign my former life, Paul. I know what it is.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Former! I like that. Are you permanent then? Settling in to our life?”

  “I would like to believe so.”

  He nodded. “But back to Joe. What do you want from me?”

  “That you verify where Joe was on these dates when called upon. Perhaps you could remember some details about the nights involved. What you were doing, what Joe was doing, and if anything can be verified. I’m assuming the two of you were together. Of course, the prosecution will challenge what you say, so you must tell the truth.”

  “And Joe wants me to do this?”

  “Joe doesn’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. If you say no, there will be no hard feelings on Joe’s part, but I wouldn’t say that about myself.”

  “So you want me to do this?” He handed the paper back.

  “Of course! For Joe and Verna’s sake. And for human decency. What’s wrong with you people, anyway?” She hadn’t intended to get so fired up, but the words slipped out. This had been a long day.

  “You know what this will mean for the community?” He studied her. “That’s the real problem.”

  “So you’d send a man to jail to spare unsavory details leaking out?”

  He grinned. “No wonder Verna sent you.”

  “Never mind that. Will you do it?”

  Paul hesitated a moment and then said, “On one condition.”

  She squinted at him. “What do you want?”

  “Dinner with you, so I can explain what was going on to you first.”

  “Why on earth should your explanation matter to me?”

  He stroked his bare chin. “Converts can be idealistic, you know. More so than we are. I just don’t want you hearing about this from anyone else…secondhand.”

  “You shouldn’t worry about me. This is about Joe and Verna.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Is it a deal or not?”

  Debbie shifted on her feet. Why was the man being such a pill about this? Wasn’t Joe his friend?

  When she didn’t speak, Paul continued. “Look, this is not the place to talk about this. I’ve got work to do here. Why don’t you and I go out for a meal together…tonight, perhaps…so I can explain fully. That way my mind will be eased…knowing you already know before it comes out in court.”

  “You’re the limit, Paul. You know that, don’t you? I guess I have no choice,” she said, deliberately adding disgust to her voice.

  Paul took no notice and even appeared pleased with himself. “For Verna and Joe’s sake,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at six then.”

  Debbie imagined herself in Paul’s courting buggy on the drive for all those miles into Mifflinburg. She might as well hang a sign around her neck: Hey, look who I’m dating. And if Alvin should hear of it, well, that would be the nail in that coffin for sure.

  “Six then?” He was still looking at her, waiting.

  “I’ll pick you up at six!” she snapped. “We’ll take my car. We can go to Lewistown.”

  “Okay! See you then.” He straightened up, turned on his heel, and walked back across the field.

  The nerve of the man! Debbie thought as she climbed back into her car. She’d been outmaneuvered on this one. But she really couldn’t say no, and Paul did have a point. She could see where he’d be uncomfortable when she heard of his unsavory life from someone else. With the way he felt for her, Paul would rather spin the tale on his own. Debbie sighed. Well, it was only for one evening. And she knew exactly where she’d take this high-minded young Amish man. The very place Doug had learned his lesson—Andrea’s Pizzeria! It was the perfect restaurant in which to bury unwarranted hopes and dreams.

  Thirty-Three

  That afternoon after Debbie arrived home, Verna’s horrified whisper sounded in the upstairs bedrooms. “You are doing what?”

  “Shhhh! I think Paul would have agreed to testify anyway, but it seemed easier to go this way,” Debbie said. “And if I already know about what happened, I think it will be easier for Paul to speak up in court. I want to help where I can.”

  “Oh, Debbie!” Verna wailed. “What horrible things did they do together?”

  Debbie shushed her. “I don’t think they did anything that bad. Paul’s just sensitive about his image and my opinion of him. Of course, if he only knew what I already think of him…” Debbie let the sentence hang. “Not that I haven’t made
things plain enough, but he’s blind I guess.”

  “You’ll tell me everything, won’t you?” Verna clutched Debbie’s arm. “And Joe’s got a gut heart. He’s repented, I know, for whatever it was.”

  Lois stuck her head in the bedroom door. “I think they’re all creeps!” she said.

  “Joe’s not,” Verna protested.

  “Give me a break.” Lois turned up her nose. “And you’re falling for Paul, Debbie?”

  Debbie laughed. “I am not!”

  “Count me out either way.” Lois disappeared from the doorway.

  “Like she has anything to do with this.” Verna groaned. “Do you mind, Debbie? This extra effort of yours that is needed?”

  “I’m fine.” Debbie patted Verna on the shoulder. “Now, let me go find Ida before she hears this from someone else.”

  “Ida?”

  “I want her to know.” Debbie glanced away. A pained smile crossed Verna’s face. So Verna also knew.

  “Ida understands. And you’re such a nice sister, Debbie. Already you know to involve everyone. That’s so sweet of you. Run along and…” Verna’s face darkened for a moment. “I need to leave at once for Joe’s place. He needs to hear this news. And then Joe can tell me himself what Paul’s going to tell you.”

  Debbie gave Verna a quick hug. “Keep at your prayers, dear. Joe has a good heart—like you say. You’ll both be okay. I think you’d better just trust him.”

  Verna took a deep breath. “Thank you, Debbie. You comfort my heart more than you know.”

  “I’ll go look for Ida then.” Debbie left and found her way down the stairs. Lois met her coming up, but she didn’t comment other than to give her head a quick shake, obviously still thinking Debbie had fallen for Paul.

  In the living room, Saloma glanced up from her knitting as Debbie went by. “Is everything okay? It sounds like a lot of ruckus going on up there.”