The Calling

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  Then Bethany’s gaze traveled to a group of wayward girls from the Group Home, clumped together, watching everyone else work. “What do you think those girls are thinking about?”

  Geena turned to see. She sighed. “They probably haven’t seen people work together like this before. And I think they’re watching families work together and feeling great self-pity. Their version of family is nothing like this.”

  “We’re doing this for them, but they won’t help.” They were invited to pitch in—Bethany had overheard as Geena asked them. And a few seemed willing, until that red-haired girl said no and the rest of them followed her lead. They wouldn’t lift a finger to help today, though they did eat lunch when offered.

  The red-haired girl was the obvious ringleader. There was something about her that irritated Bethany. She had a permanent look of contempt on her face. Under her breath, Bethany muttered, “That red-haired girl shouldn’t be allowed to intimidate the other girls.”

  “True, but more importantly, why does she feel the need to?” Geena turned around to face Bethany. “Until we walk in someone’s shoes, we really can’t judge what makes them do the things they do.” She patted Bethany’s hand. “The garden is the first step toward making a difference in those girls’ lives. But the garden needs time to grow and we need to allow God time to work in the girls’ hearts.”

  Time. Bethany had never been one for patience. “Do you know anything about that girl?”

  “Her name is Rusty but I don’t know anything else about her.” Geena slapped her hands on her thighs. “I’m going to find out.” She walked over and sat on the ground next to the clump of girls.

  Bethany’s curiosity about Geena Spencer continued to grow and grow. She was easy to talk to and didn’t seem anything like a lady preacher, not that Bethany knew what a lady preacher should be like.

  “Anything left that’s sweet to eat?”

  Bethany turned to see Jimmy Fisher leaning against a support post that held up the Grange Hall roof, one booted foot crossed over the other, his hat dangling from his fingers, gazing at her with an inscrutable look. Flustered, she spied a dish at the end of the row. “One piece of Rose’s famous blueberry buckle is left. You want it?”

  “Split it with me?”

  “I’m already full,” she said, leaning over to scoop up the lone square of cake. She put it on his plate. He’d just washed up, for the ends of his hair dripped water and he smelled of Ivory soap. “You’ve worked hard on this project. Everyone appreciates it.”

  “Everyone?”

  She blushed. “I appreciate it.” She looked from his eyes up to the sky, then back to his eyes again, judging which were bluer. His eyes were definitely bluer than the sky.

  He leaned toward her, though he was careful not to touch her, cautious about who might be watching them. “So, what do you say about tomorrow night? Will you let me take you home from the singing?”

  For one little moment, that vine twined around them again, binding them together as he looked at her. His blue, blue eyes twinkled, but there was also something solid and real there.

  “Jimmy! Oh Jimmy Fisher!”

  He whirled his head around. And there was Katie Zook, waving to him to come help her carry a tray of seedlings.

  Bethany shook her head in disbelief. That girl surely needed a copy of A Young Woman’s Guide to Virtue.

  “Be there in a minute.” He turned back to Bethany, but it was too late. She’d had enough and was already brushing past him to head into the Grange Hall to help Sylvia with lunch dishes.

  Sunday morning was quiet at Eagle Hill. Geena had watched the Schrock family pile into a buggy and head off to church. Last evening, Rose had brought fresh sun-dried towels down to Geena and said that another inn reservation had been canceled due to the heat wave, so she would be able to stay two more nights in the guest flat. She was thrilled. She had no reason to return home. Not yet.

  Geena planned to go to church in town later in the morning, after a hike. As she stepped out into the light from the coolness of the guest flat, the sun fell on her skin like a skillet, heavy and hot. She paused for a moment, closing her eyes, letting the early morning heat sink deep into her bones. Unlike most people, she loved warm weather. Maybe she should look for a youth pastor position in Florida or Arizona. Or Texas?

  She spotted Allen, leaning against a fence, sipping coffee, and walked over to join him. “You’re up early.”

  “They’re early risers, these Amish folk.” In the freshness of the morning, the weariness in his face was erased, and she saw only the kindness. He had always been kind.

  “I’m a little surprised you let Tobe out of your sight for the morning. I figured you’d accompany him to church.”

  “Three hours in a sweltering barn, listening to preachers in a foreign tongue—I figured Tobe was pretty safe for the time being.”

  Geena grinned. “Well, then, want to go hiking? Then we can go to church.”

  “Hike? Church?” He looked at her as if she’d suggested bird watching. “I suppose so.” He tossed the rest of the coffee on the ground and set the mug on a fence post. He unfolded the stems of his sunglasses, the motion deliberate, and slipped them on. They walked side by side for a few hundred yards until they reached a part of the trail that required single file. He let her take the lead. “I was watching you yesterday. You have a real gift for ministry.”

  “I miss it,” she said honestly.

  “So why aren’t you . . . ,” he paused, searching for the right word, “ministering?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I have time.”

  She picked up her pace. “From what I remember, you were always too busy with work to listen.”

  “From what I remember, you were always talking to other people, not to me.”

  She spun around, facing him off. “That’s not fair. That’s what being a good minister is all about. Being available to others.”

  His face became gentle. “I know that. And you were—you are a good minister.”

  The fight drained out of her. “And you were—are a good attorney.”

  “Truce?” He held out his hand to her.

  She looked down at it, remembering how big and strong his hands were. Not the kind of hands that belonged to a pencil pusher. It was a hand she had loved once, a hand she had trusted. She reached out and shook it. “Truce.”

  They started up the hill again, Allen trailing behind Geena. “So you never married.”

  She shook her head. “I guess I’m married to my work.” She glanced back. “I think I heard that you married.”

  “My wife’s name was Alyssa. We were very happy.”

  Geena felt a strange swirl of jealousy. Where did that come from?

  “Until she left me.”

  She stopped and made a sharp about-face. “I’m sorry, Allen.” She truly was. Divorce was a terrible thing. “Do you have children?”

  “One. A son. He’s thirteen now.”

  “Do you see much of him?”

  “I do. We share custody.” He was huffing and puffing and his face was turning red. Clearly, the man didn’t exercise much. “So why aren’t you ministering right now?”

  She went ahead of him to reach the top. “I told you. I have a few things to figure out right now,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “So you’re adrift? That doesn’t sound like the Geena I remember.”

  At the top of the hill now, she ignored him and looked down over Eagle Hill. The pastoral scene took her breath away. She sat down on a rock and he fell beside her, breathing heavily. Slowly, she tipped her head back and let herself be drawn up, up, up into the bright morning sky, the endless and empty sky.

  “A body could get lost up there if she isn’t careful.”

  She ducked her head, suddenly shy, aware he was watching her. Down below, the sheep were grazing, milled in a bunch. Just then one of them startled at something, jumping stiff-legged and sideways, and landing with a loud bleat.
It spooked the rest of them so they scattered in the pasture.

  Geena and Allen laughed at the sight of the silly sheep, and their laughter—his mellow and deep, hers light and airy—wove together. A killdeer trilled sweetly and a chickadee burbled as the wind gently swayed the tops of the trees. “Isn’t it lovely?” She turned to face him and caught the look on his face. He stared at her with such intensity that she could almost feel it, like a warm gust of breath on her face.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Geena. Why are you drifting?”

  Hmmm . . . she thought. Only you would ask that question. “Allen, are you ever not a lawyer?”

  He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Funny you should ask. I’m giving some thought to leaving the SEC. My son needs more of my time. He’s a good kid, but when you’re thirteen . . .”

  “The world revolves around your friends.”

  “That’s true. Exactly right. You always did have a knack for understanding kids.”

  “You get a lot of experience when you’re in youth ministry.” She stretched her legs out and put one ankle on top of the other. “So what will you do if you’re not an SEC lawyer?”

  “Not sure yet. I need to finish up this last case involving Schrock Investments.”

  “This case seems awfully important to you.”

  “It is.” His gaze shifted down to the quiet farmhouse. “A number of innocent people have been hurt. I’m going to see this through.”

  She stared at his profile, a face that she had once memorized. “It seems more than that. It seems . . . like there’s something personal for you in this case.”

  He kept his gaze on the sheep, far below them, as if watching them eat was the most fascinating thing in the world. “Anything personal would be a conflict of interest.”

  Now that sounded like the Allen she knew. He loved the law like she loved the church. But something about the determination in his voice seemed a little unusual to her. “Unless the SEC wasn’t aware of why it was so personal to you.”

  He turned abruptly back to her, lifting his eyebrows in surprise. “So, Geena . . . you never answered a question I have tried to ask you several times and still am waiting for the answer. Why are you hiding on an Amish farm?”

  Ah, changing the subject. A diversion tactic. “I’m not . . . hiding. I’m just taking a breather.”

  “Yesterday, you were really in your element.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were just tireless, and everybody looked to you for help and advice.”

  “It’s funny how a day like yesterday just”—she made a circle in front of her heart—“pulls me in. Everybody working together for a common good. A day like yesterday makes me feel like I’m a much better version of myself.” Before she could stop them, words came pouring out of her mouth. “But I love being a youth pastor. I love working for a church, being part of a whole.” Below, the wooly sheep had moved under the canopy of a weeping willow. “I love church, period.”

  “So why aren’t you working?”

  She sighed. He wasn’t going to let this go. So like the Allen she remembered. “My church fired me. They felt I didn’t have the preaching skills, not enough charisma, to match their plans for growth and development. They hired me with expectations to triple the size of the youth group within a year’s time.” She tossed a pebble against a tree. “Obviously, it didn’t.”

  He wiped his forehead and neck with his handkerchief. “Sounds more like a business plan.”

  She laughed softly. “Sometimes, it did seem that way.”

  “So you’re ‘in between’ youth pastoring.”

  “I miss my work,” she said. “I don’t know who I am without it.”

  “Do you have any plans?”

  “Not yet.” She spoke her own truth. “I have absolutely no idea of where I’ll go next. Or what I’ll do.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Well, it is. And please don’t give me any platitudes. You know it’s a difficult question.”

  “It is that and I don’t have the answer for you.”

  She closed her eyes. “I have to figure this out.”

  “Yup, you do.”

  “It’s just that . . . I do feel called to be a youth minister.”

  “Yeah, sure, I understand that. But not called to be perfect.”

  12

  Bethany would never have agreed to go to the singing had Tobe not pleaded with her. He just wanted an excuse to shake off Allen Turner for the evening. She was in no mood to listen to girls’ silly chatter and she still was on the fence about going home with Jimmy Fisher. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he was something special, but that he thought he was something special, and so did most every girl in Stoney Ridge.

  Yesterday, she nearly allowed herself to be swept away by Jimmy Fisher’s considerable charms. His leadership at the work frolic was impressive—many commented on it. Somehow, in his lighthearted way, he had the whole thing organized like a well-run clock. Yes, she was nearly caught under his spell, but stopped herself just in time. One thing for sure, she wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend. Not now, maybe not ever again.

  Tobe hitched up the buggy and then hurried next door to get Naomi while Bethany waited in the backseat. As Tobe and Naomi crossed the yard, Bethany was startled by how comfortable they were with each other—heads close together, laughing over something.

  Then Naomi remembered Bethany as they reached the buggy, glanced at her, and did a double take. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why does everybody keep asking me that?” Bethany said, sounding a little more snappish than she intended to.

  Naomi looked concerned. “You have dark circles under your eyes.”

  “Nothing is wrong. I’m just tired.”

  Tobe and Naomi exchanged a glance. “She’s been touchy all day,” Tobe said.

  Bethany shrugged. “It’s the heat. It’s getting to me.”

  “Oh, I can understand that,” Naomi said. “This morning I took a stick of butter out of the fridge and it melted on the way to the countertop.”

  Bethany relaxed. Naomi was a good friend.

  It wasn’t the heat that was bothering Bethany. She had woken in the night with her heart racing like a drum, gasping for breath. In her dream, she was under water, down, down, down, bubbles coming up all around her. And then there were two hands hauling her up out of the water. She was shivering violently, crying. Crying. Someone held her against her chest. Someone in blue. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Don’t be afraid. You’re safe.”

  She couldn’t fall back to sleep for hours. What was happening to her?

  She headed to the barn where the singing would take place and where the girls had already gathered, expecting Naomi to follow her. At the barn door, she turned back and saw Naomi and Tobe, still standing by the buggy. Naomi was laughing at something Tobe had said, looking all bright and sparkly as she gazed at him. Oh Naomi, Bethany thought, feeling sorry for her gentle friend. Be careful. I love my brother dearly but he’ll just break your heart. That’s what men do best.

  In the cool of the barn, Bethany sat at the end of a long table on the girls’ side. On the boys’ side, she was surprised to see Danny Riehl, Mim’s friend, laughing with the other boys and having himself a grand time. She asked the girl sitting next to her why Danny was here and was told he had just turned sixteen. Old enough to attend youth groups.

  If Mim knew Danny were here, having so much fun without her, it would make her sad. Mim tried so hard to hide her interest in Danny Riehl. Bethany knew, though. Where had Mim’s sudden passion for astronomy come from? It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. But she kept Mim’s secret and didn’t tell Rose about the stargazing on moonless nights. She might not be the most patient and understanding sister, but who was she to point fingers about boyfriends?

  She wondered if she should tell Mim that Danny was here. After giving it some thought, she decided to leave it alon
e. After all, Danny wasn’t doing anything wrong. But he sure was having a good time. He sure was.

  Someone announced the first song and everyone started to sing. Now this—this was worth coming for. The sounds of harmony were pure heaven to Bethany. In church, they only sang the old hymns, slow and sad, in one voice, no harmony lest any one stand out. But at singings, they could sing different parts and Bethany loved it.

  She watched as the girls passed around a glass or two of water, filled from the pitcher that stood in the middle of the long table. On the other side, the boys also had some water glasses to share. A little later they passed a saltshaker around the table. Anyone who was beginning to get hoarse from singing sprinkled a little into the palm of his hand and licked it, like a cow at a salt lick. The first time Bethany had seen that, she thought it was disgusting. Now, it seemed perfectly normal.

  Two hours of hymn singing later, one of the boys announced the closing hymn and Bethany realized she had forgotten to tell Tobe they needed to leave right away. Jimmy had glanced at her once or twice and wiggled those dark eyebrows, but she tried to ignore him. She didn’t want to give him any reason to think he had her in his pocket. That would have been the worst thing for a boy like Jimmy. He was already far too self-confident.

  Where was Tobe, anyway? In fact, where was Naomi?

  During the closing hymn, she slipped out of the barn. Tobe and Naomi and the buggy were gone. Shootfire!

  Bethany knew she could wait for Jimmy to give her a ride home, but she decided against it. She kept her chin tucked to her chest and walked down the driveway quickly, hoping no one would notice she had left.

  She almost made it.

  “Hey! Hey, Bethany!” Jimmy called to her from the top of the long driveway.

  For a moment, Bethany thought about breaking into a run, pretending she hadn’t heard him, but then she thought twice. That was a pretty stupid plan. She took a deep breath, let it out, and reminded herself that she was not interested in getting tangled up with another charming fellow. Why was she always falling for the wrong type? Surely something was seriously wrong with her. She would not encourage him, but she could be friendly without being friends. It was just a matter of being polite and keeping her distance.