His expression grew quite sober. “Think you’re the only one with skeletons in your closet? We Fishers have plenty of our own. Let’s see, there’s old Rufus, who had six toes on each foot. My father passed on at an early age because of high blood pressure . . .”
“Jimmy, those are physical things. Mental illness . . . that’s another beast.”
“Okay, then. Okay.” He bit his lip, as if he was weighing whether or not to say something. “My mother’s father lost his mind. I don’t know what kind of sickness he had—he died before I was born—but I know it was pretty bad.”
“Your mother’s father? He was mentally ill?”
“She won’t talk about it. Not with anyone.”
Edith Fisher, she was discovering, was very good at keeping secrets.
“Bethany, life comes at you like a hurricane, and you do what you can with whatever it blows into your hands, good and bad. I don’t think we have any idea about what we’re going to be faced with in life.”
“Do you really believe that? You think that fate is lying there like a snake and it’ll take you no matter what you do to try to stop it?”
“No, no. That’s not what I meant at all. What I’m trying to say is that we don’t know what the future holds, only God does, and there’s no point in trying to avoid trouble. Like . . . genes. They’re a mystery. Who knows what makes us the way we are? Or what triggers an illness? Nobody knows, Bethany. It’s amazing how fast life can turn its course—”
“On a nickel and give you some change.”
He nodded. He bent over and took her face in his hands, his thumbs lightly tracing the bones in her cheeks. “The only thing I’m sure of,” he said, in a voice so loving that it brought fresh tears to Bethany’s eyes, “is that I’d rather have you, just the way you are, than never have you at all.”
Then, just as suddenly, he turned away abruptly to head down the driveway.
If she’d been holding on to any illusions about how much she cared about Jimmy Fisher, that last speech would have clinched it. And suddenly she was completely aware of this exact moment—the sweet smell of fresh-cut grass, the sound of horses neighing to each other in the pasture, the bleating of the four little sheep, the clatter through the open kitchen window of Rose putting dishes away—because as she watched Jimmy head through the privet hole, she realized that she loved him. Whatever happened, as much as she had tried, she couldn’t un-fall in love with him.
On the way home from school one afternoon, Mim stopped to pick up the mail in the mailbox before she walked to the house. There was a thick envelope addressed to her in Ella’s spidery handwriting. She dropped her lunch box and sat down under a tree to read it.
Dear Mim,
The silver thimble you gave me is very special. I will treasure it. Sylvia is holding on to it and only letting me use it during our bee time, so it doesn’t get lost.
You might have noticed that I have days when things are right as rain, and days when life seems very foggy. Today is a very good day. Clear as glass. But I am becoming more forgetful, and it is possible that one day I might not know where I am or who I am or, even more important, who you are. So I wanted to say a nice, clearheaded thank you while I still do have my wits about me, or at least some of them.
You are simply the best young woman in the whole world. Never forget that. The real me, inside here, remembers you well . . . as my little Mrs. Miracle.
Fondly,
Ella
One tear, then two, leaked from the corner of Mim’s eyes and splattered on the envelope. She brushed them off and felt something else in the envelope. She pulled out four newspaper cuttings of Mrs. Miracle columns, from the last month, ever since Mim stopped nicking the columns from the Sisters’ House.
It seemed to Bethany that she had always been worried about something. Now suddenly, her worries had evaporated into bright air.
Could people change? Bethany thought so.
She felt like a different person. She had come to Stoney Ridge to help her family get settled and she ended up having her heart settle. She prayed now, often. When she began to pray it felt awkward, forced, like those stumbling, start-and-stop conversations you have when meeting someone for the first time, full of uncomfortable silences as she racked her brain for the right way of saying things, just so.
Then one day, while she was kneading wheatberry bread dough, she started praying the way Geena prayed. Like she was talking to someone she admired and respected, yet knew well and felt comfortable around. She prayed for Tobe and Rose, her siblings, Galen, Naomi, Jimmy, and for all her doubts and worries, as well as all things she was grateful for. She had even started praying for her enemy Jake Hertzler. Shootfire! Lord knew he needed prayers most of all.
Somehow, as she was praying, pushing and pulling and stretching the lumpy dough, warming it as she kneaded, back and forth, over and under, the stiffness melted away. Words flowed from her, easily, in a way that matched the way she was kneading: simple, rhythmic, forgetting to be worried about the outcome, focused only on the dough, waiting for that moment of elasticity when she knew the yeast and salt and water and flour were no longer separate ingredients but fully blended and the dough was smooth and springy. At that moment she pulled her gaze back to discover the bigger picture, to see what had developed through the kneading of the dough and the sheer honesty of her prayers—and she liked what she saw. She poked the bread and the hole sprang back. Good to go.
As the bread was rising in the Eagle Hill kitchen, she walked down the road to pay a visit to Edith Fisher.
When Edith opened the door, she stiffened. “Jimmy isn’t here.”
“I know that,” Bethany said. “He’s over at Galen’s. I came to see you.”
Edith opened the door and led Bethany to the living room. They sat on opposite sides of the room, very awkward. “I assume this is about your mother.” Edith shifted her weight, putting a strain on the chair, whose joints squeaked in protest.
“Not really. It’s about your father.”
Edith Fisher’s mouth went hard. Bethany hated to say bitter, but that’s how she seemed, all tight and vinegary and hard. She had the coldest, stoniest look on her face she’d ever seen on a woman. For that matter, a man, either.
“Jimmy told me about your father. That he was mentally ill.”
The color drained from Edith’s face. “I suppose you told him what I did for your mother.” Her lips clamped in a thin, silent line.
Bethany shook her head. “No. That’s your secret, Edith. All he knows is that my mother had a sickness. He needed to know that much, but only that much.”
Edith relaxed a little. She rose and walked over to the window. “My papa was a wonderful man. He used to call me his ‘little ray of sunshine.’”
Bethany couldn’t imagine Edith Fisher as a little anything.
She chewed on her lip for a moment, staring ahead. “He loved to travel. He used to send me postcards from places. Years later, I found out that he was sending them to me from a home for the mentally ill.”
Bethany rose from the chair. “The same one where my mother is?”
“Yes.” She turned to face Bethany. “That’s how I knew what the future looked like for your mama. They had the same sickness. And that’s why I don’t want you and my Jimmy together. Too risky. The chance of your children getting the sickness is too high.”
Well, Bethany knew that wasn’t necessarily true. The doctor had given her all kinds of information about schizophrenia. But she doubted she could convince Edith of that and she decided she wouldn’t bother. “It’s too late. Your boy Jimmy is in love with me. And I love him.” The words came into her mind out of the blue, without any thought on her part, as if she had practiced a speech, but she hadn’t at all.
“Edith, there are so many unexpected things that happen in this life. You know that better than anybody. Goodness, you just started to live a new life with a new husband, and poof! It’s over.” She crossed the room to face Edith. “
You can be happy about us or you can be miserable about us, but it won’t change how we feel about each other.”
Edith turned back to the window and crossed her arms over her chest. “I know that. Jimmy told me.”
“He did?”
“His eyes flashed with a hard, dark expression I’ve only seen once or twice in him. When he looks like that, I know he’s made up his mind and nothing on earth is going to get him to change it.”
Bethany’s eyes prickled with tears. Jimmy was so many things that were fine, but the fact that he had stood up to his mother about Bethany was the moment she realized he loved her, truly loved her.
Edith did a sharp about-face. “You are one bold girl.”
She nodded. “That’s true.”
Bethany clasped Edith’s her hands. “I don’t remember much about my mother—nothing specific. But I do remember you, Edith. The bathtub—I remember you holding me, telling me not to be afraid. You wore a blue dress. I do remember that.” She squeezed her hands. “Thank you for that. Thank you for all that.”
Edith’s mask cracked slightly but her lips didn’t move one tiny bit. It was her eyes that gave her away. They glistened with tears.
As Bethany walked home in the afternoon sun, she thought again about her mother, walking down this same road when she was Bethany’s age. She said a prayer for her mother, like the counselor had suggested she do whenever she started to think about her. Then she took a deep, deep breath, in and out, in and out. Then she waited and, slowly, she grinned. There was no hint of a panic attack.
Since school had started, Mim had stopped taking early morning walks with her mom. There were too many chores to do before school and she was staying up later than usual to keep up with the demand for Mrs. Miracle’s advice. But after two more days of Danny acting so high and mighty in his new role as temporary teacher, she knew she had to talk to her mother.
When her alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., she woke with a start and nearly changed her mind. Another hour of sleep sounded sweetly tempting. But then she thought of yesterday, when Danny organized a spelling bee for the schoolhouse and paired Mim with a sixth grader named Arthur Zook. Nobody ever wanted to be paired with Arthur Zook. It wasn’t fair—most eighth graders were paired with much younger grades, so they could be bossed around. Arthur wouldn’t listen to anybody and mixed everything up. Sure enough, despite the fact that Mim told him exactly how to spell the word isosceles, Arthur spelled out “e-y-e-s-a-u-c-a-l-e-e-z.”
They were the first pair—the very first!—to be sent back to their desks. Mim glared at Danny for the rest of the afternoon, but he never paid her any mind. He virtually ignored her. She was nothing more to him than another student. Less so, she thought at times. He didn’t always call on her when her hand was raised in the air. And once, when he was called outside by a farmer one afternoon, he asked seventh grader Betsy Miller to watch over the class. A measly seventh grader! Worst of all, he had given Mim a C+ on a book review she had written, with a note that she could do better. She hated him! And she loved him.
Her mom was surprised to see her downstairs, waiting by the door. “Mim, what are you doing up so early?”
Mim shrugged. “Just happened to be awake.” She stifled a yawn. “Thought I’d go out with you today.”
“Well, I’m glad to have your company. I’ve been missing our talks since school started.”
Mim followed her mom outside and onto the trail that led up the hill behind the house. The full moon, lying low, cast large shadows along the path. Her mom slowed to walk alongside her. “How’s school going this term?”
“So-so.”
“Must feel a little strange to have Danny as the teacher.”
“It’s . . . awful.”
Her mother nodded.
“It’s just that . . . he’s trying to act like he’s all . . . grown up.”
“Imagine how hard it would be—to suddenly be a teacher to the very students you played softball with a few months back.”
Mim hadn’t thought about Danny’s point of view.
“I know he didn’t want to take that substitute teaching job. His mother told me the school board paid quite a few visits to their farm over the last few weeks. Finally, Bishop Elmo had to get involved.”
Mim didn’t know that. She thought Danny would have jumped at the chance to teach. He was a natural teacher. “It’s just that . . . I thought we were friends. And now he acts . . .”
“Like there’s a big wall between you?”
Mim nodded. They had reached the top of the ridge and were able to look down on both sides. Eagle Hill shared a border along the ridgeline with the Riehls’ farm. It was impossible to get to the Riehls’ farm from the hill, though—their side was a steep decline. As she walked to the edge, she could make out the creek that bordered the Riehls’ farm. And if she squinted, she thought she could see someone carrying a lantern light from the house to the barn. Maybe that was Danny, doing early morning chores before he left for a day at the schoolhouse. “He told me to call him Teacher Danny.”
“So stargazing is on hold?”
Mim took in a sharp breath. She had never told anyone—not anyone—that she stargazed with Danny. “You knew?”
Her mom put her arm around Mim. “I knew. And I also know you’re fond of each other.”
Mim’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She had tried so hard to hide her feelings. “Is it that obvious?”
“No, not really. Certainly not to others. But I’m your mother. Moms pick up on those kinds of things.” She smiled. “You have fine taste in men, Mim. But you always did have an abundance of common sense.”
Mim dropped her head. “Everything’s changed. Danny’s changed. I don’t think he likes me anymore.”
Her mom was quiet for a long time. “You need to take a long view. This is just a short period—until the school board finds another teacher.”
Mim knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. And she could tell Danny loved teaching.
“I know it’s hard to do when you’re a teenager, I know everything seems so important and so serious, but there’s a much bigger picture to consider.”
“What’s the bigger picture?”
“Right now, Danny has a job to do. It’s not an easy one, but he took it on. Instead of feeling overly concerned about yourself, or about how this job is affecting your friendship with Danny, think about Danny. Think about how to support him. Encourage the other children to respect him.”
Mim didn’t. Just yesterday, during noon recess while Danny was inside, Arthur Zook mimicked him. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose the way Danny did—and Mim joined in the laughter. She should have been a better friend to Danny. He was a good teacher, a fine teacher, even if he did act all high and mighty.
“Mim, you have a job to do too.”
Oh no. Had her mom found out about Mrs. Miracle? She didn’t subscribe to the Stoney Ridge Times. Hardly any of the Amish read the local newspaper. She thought her hidden identity would be safe. Had Bethany told? Had Ella?
“You’re helping Bethany with the community garden. You’re finishing your last year of school. The sisters want to pay you to be a Saturday companion to Ella. You have plenty of things on your own plate.”
Relief flooded Mim. Mrs. Miracle’s secret identity was still safe. So far, so good.
“Time is your friend, Mim. You’re only fourteen. Danny’s only sixteen. If you’re meant for each other, nothing will get in the way of that.”
“But . . . what if we’re not?” That was the question, deep down, that plagued her.
“Then that means there’s someone God has in mind who is better for you too. Not just Danny.”
Harold the Rooster let out his first crow and her mom laughed. “That’s our signal. Time to head back down the hill and start the day.” Just then, the eagle pair soared over their heads. “I thought they might leave us, after their baby died last spring. But they’ve stayed. Maybe next year they’
ll have another baby. Maybe two.” She looked at Mim. “Life can get good again.”
She started down the trail and Mim waited a moment to watch the eagles circle low over the creek, hunting for breakfast. Then, feeling like she had dropped a heavy stone, she ran to catch up with her mom.
23
Ladies, the quilt’s waiting for you,” Edith Fisher announced as everyone took their places and began to stitch the green sashing. They all murmured their approval at the intricate Star of Bethlehem pattern, made up of blues and yellows and greens.
“It’s pretty. Awful pretty,” Edith Fisher said.
Naomi stopped sewing and looked at her. So did Bethany. Edith Fisher had never in her life said anything was pretty.
“Well, it is,” she sniffed.
“Did you all hear that the lady preacher who was staying at Eagle Hill took the job as housemother at the Group Home?” Fannie said.
“Where’d you hear that?” Edith said as Naomi and Bethany shared a secret smile. Not only did they already know that piece of information, but Geena had already roped Bethany into volunteering to teach cooking classes for the wayward girls from the Group Home. Next summer, Geena wanted the girls to help out at the soup kitchen. She had even given the soup kitchen a name: The Second Chance Café.
“I heard it from her this very morning,” Fannie said, looking pleased she knew something before Edith did. “I saw Geena Spencer in the Sweet Tooth Bakery wolfing down a cinnamon roll.”
“Well, that’s just dandy,” Edith Fisher said. “Teach all those young innocents how to be women’s libbers.” Now she was her old self again.
Ella was following things better that afternoon than she had in a long time. “I heard that folks throw a cat on top of the quilt as soon as the last stitch is in. If the cat jumps into your lap, then you’re the next to get married.”
Fannie snorted. “Now you remember the secret to catching a beau, Ella. Should’ve told us that sixty years ago.” The women all got a big laugh out of that and started vying to have the cat fall in their lap. All but Naomi.
The Calling Page 26