Blessings

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Heat flooded Trina’s face. She couldn’t imagine joining in a partnership with a man. Especially a man who was not Mennonite. She didn’t answer.

  The older doctor sighed, lowering his gaze for a moment. “But if you decide you don’t want to work here—”

  “I need the job.” If she was to pay for college, she had to work. Graham was giving up his house for her education—the least she could do was contribute.

  “Good. Well, then. . .” Dr. Groening stepped back and slipped his hands into the pockets of his faded blue scrub top. “I just hope you understand this has nothing to do with a lack of confidence in you. I’ve seen you with animals, Trina. You’ll make a fine doctor one day. I only wish you were further along in your studies. Maybe then. . .”

  Trina nodded, forcing a smile. “It’s all right, Dr. Groening. I understand. And I appreciate your kind words. Whether I end up practicing in Sommerfeld or not, I will still be a veterinarian. Graham and I agree it’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  But, God, her thoughts continued as she headed for the door to meet Graham for the ride home, I wish You’d let me know where I’m meant to serve as a veterinarian. I don’t think Dad will ever forgive me if I leave another hole where a person used to be.

  Graham flicked the edges of the Louis L’Amour western he’d brought along to keep himself occupied while Trina took her midsemester exams. He wished he’d brought a second book, too. Next time he’d know to plan for more than two hours of waiting.

  The chair, although padded, boasted a straight back that kept him uncomfortably upright. If he slouched, the slickness of the vinyl cover made him feel as though he might slide right off onto the tiled floor. An action like that would certainly capture attention. And he was conspicuous enough already.

  Perched in a seating area where two bustling hallways converged, he was in a prime location to be noticed. Normally when he ventured away from Sommerfeld, he was in a group. Being alone in worldly surroundings was new and, he decided with a tug at his collar, less than pleasant. No one was rude to him, but he was painfully aware of the curious glances, the muffled giggles, the whispered comments— “What’s up with that?” and “Dude, call the fashion police.” When with his friends, he could focus on them and ignore gawkers. But today he didn’t have that privilege.

  A door down the left hallway opened, and people spilled out. Graham glanced up, his heart leaping with anticipation—was Trina coming? But to his dismay, he realized the classroom door through which she had disappeared was farther down. Stifling a frustrated huff of breath, he opened the novel and began reading it for the second time.

  He was just starting the fourth chapter when another click and several voices pulled his attention away from the book. This time, he spotted Trina among the group milling in the hallway. The other students made a berth around her, making it easy for her to rush toward him. He rose, reaching for her sweater, which she’d left on the chair beside him, and smiled as she approached.

  “All done?” he asked as he draped the sweater over her shoulders. Two girls in shirts that didn’t quite meet the waistlines of their very tight blue jeans walked by, their heads swiveling to stare. Graham kept his gaze pinned to Trina’s face.

  “All done. We can go.”

  Graham almost gave an exultant shout. He deliberately ignored the other people who moved around them as they made their way to the parking lot. “So how do you think you did?”

  Trina hunched her shoulders with a nervous giggle. “I hope okay, but I won’t know for sure until they post the grades online.” She stopped, gave a quick glance around, then rose up on tiptoe to whisper, “It felt funny to be in there. I’ve never been with so many worldly people by myself.”

  Graham nodded. He understood exactly. “But you did it,” he praised. And he had, too. If they were going to have to live out on their own, away from Sommerfeld, while she finished college, they might as well get used to it.

  She sighed, swinging their joined hands as they began moving again. “People are so funny. They look at my clothes and my cap. They look and look, but they don’t say anything. They look, but I don’t think they really see me.” She frowned. “Maybe that’s why I like animals so much. They don’t much care what you look like—they just respond to how you treat them.”

  Graham searched for words to encourage her and make her feel less uncomfortable, but none came. They reached his car, and he opened the door for her. On his own side of the vehicle, he took care not to let his door bump the side of the fancy red sports car parked very close to his car.

  Once behind the steering wheel, he finally responded to her statement. “I think, once they get used to seeing you on campus, they’ll look beyond your clothes to Trina.” Wondering how he would cope, he asked, “But what about you? Will you get used to being around them?”

  She chewed her lower lip, her thoughtful gaze aimed in his direction. “I suppose over time you can get used to anything.”

  At that moment, a young man in baggy jeans, an untucked plaid shirt, and flat rubber shoes that whacked against his bare soles approached the car. The man halted at the hood of Graham’s car, lifted silver-lensed sunglasses to the top of his head, and let his gaze rove over every inch of Graham’s fellowship-approved dark blue sedan. Graham felt his face grow hot as the man’s face twisted into a smirk.

  Giving the hood a pat, the man called, “Nice wheels, dude. Did you inherit this from your gramma?”

  Graham pinched his lips tight and started the engine, backing out of the space. The other man laughingly slipped his sunglasses into place, aimed a little black box at his car, then climbed behind the wheel. Graham’s face continued to burn as he left the parking lot, watching carefully for traffic. There seemed to be more drivers on this campus than on Main Street in Sommerfeld on its busiest shopping day.

  When they were finally away from the campus and heading toward the highway, Graham puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath, relaxing his tense shoulders. “Tell me again how a person can get used to anything given time.”

  Trina slid her hand across the seat, and he grabbed it. The squeeze of her fingers let him know she felt bad about how the college student had behaved. He glanced at her and saw apprehension in her expression. He couldn’t let her worry about his feelings—she needed assurance they would make it just fine in the world while she finished her schooling. So he pushed his lips into a smile and forced a light laugh.

  “I think next time I’ll just wear my work clothes instead of my Sunday suit. The students don’t seem to wear formal attire.” He knew his statement would let her know he was willing to go there again.

  A smile lit her eyes. “Thank you, Graham.”

  Graham winked in reply then turned his attention to driving. He would go out again. And again. He would continue going until the stares and comments didn’t bother him anymore. Lord, let that day come quickly!

  TWENTY-THREE

  Over the next two weeks, as October slowly melted away, Graham took every opportunity he could find to drive into one of the larger towns nearby—Newton or McPherson and once all the way to Hutchinson. Always by himself. Always wearing his distinctive Mennonite suit. He chose the busiest stores and walked around, sometimes pushing a cart, always meeting others’ gazes, forcing a smile and nod if someone maintained eye contact long enough to see it.

  These excursions used up a lot of gasoline, time, and energy, but Graham decided it was his form of education. Trina was learning to be a veterinarian; he was learning to feel comfortable outside of Sommerfeld. The time would come when the two of them—just them, no crowd of friends—would leave their secure Mennonite community. He would work among the worldly. Shop among the worldly. Reside in an apartment next door to the worldly. And he refused to spend that time feeling misplaced and uncomfortable.

  It was simply a matter of adjusting, he told himself as he pushed a squeaky metal cart around a large discount store on the outside edge of McPherson. And he would adjust. For
Trina’s sake. If he was comfortable, then she would be comfortable. He was determined she would be comfortable. Because if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be able to focus on her studies. So he would make sure everything flowed smoothly for his Trina.

  He dropped two cans of honey-roasted peanuts—his favorite snack—into the cart, his heart lifting with the thought of Trina. Fewer than fifteen weeks and she would be his Trina in every way. Already they were best friends, but soon they would be husband and wife. Nothing could be better, he decided. He envied his friend Walt, who had seven fewer days than Graham to wait.

  Mom couldn’t wait, either. In her delight at having another woman under her roof, she had been busy in the upstairs of his childhood home, cleaning and hanging new curtains and repairing the rag rugs that had become torn from energetic boys using them to slide across the linoleum floor. Which reminded him, Mom wanted him to pick up a spool of upholstery thread since she’d used hers up on those rugs.

  He turned the cart toward the fabric department, and when he rounded a display of bolts of cloth, his cart banged into someone else’s. “Please excuse me!”

  The woman gave a start, dropping the bolt she’d just pulled from the shelf. To Graham’s surprise, he knew the woman—Dr. Groening’s wife. He rushed around the cart and retrieved the dropped bolt.

  “Thank you,” she said as she took the cloth from his hands. Then her expression turned puzzled. “Do I know you?”

  Graham nodded. “We’ve seen each other before at the café in Sommerfeld. I’m Graham Ortmann. My fiancée, Trina Muller, works at the clinic with your husband.”

  “Of course! Trina!” The woman smiled broadly, her eyes twinkling. “What a sweet girl. But engaged. . . I didn’t realize she was engaged.”

  Graham offered another shy nod.

  “Well, congratulations.” Mrs. Groening extended her hand, and Graham shook it. “Josiah thinks the world of Trina. He felt so bad about not being able to let her buy the clinic.”

  Graham swallowed. “I know. And she understands. We don’t hold a grudge.”

  The woman pressed a wrinkled hand to the bodice of her sweater. “That’s a great relief. Even Marc was concerned about taking over, knowing of Trina’s interest.” She tipped her head. “Isn’t it odd that two people would want to establish themselves as veterinarians in the same small circle of communities? I would think it would be more likely to have to hunt for someone, yet two step up, ready and willing to take Josiah’s place.”

  With a shake of her head, she smiled again. “It has certainly made things easier for us. Joe was ready to retire two years ago, but he couldn’t because he wouldn’t leave people without care for their animals. Now it isn’t a concern. We’re very grateful.”

  “I’m glad it’s worked out for you.”

  “Well!” The woman released another light laugh. “I’ve kept you here too long already. I’m sure you have other things to do than visit with me. It was nice seeing you, Graham, and please give Trina my sincerest congratulations. I wish you both much happiness.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Graham moved on, but his thoughts lingered over Mrs. Groening’s comment about two people interested in taking over the veterinary clinic. Trina’s keen disappointment in not being able to assume the Groening Clinic made his heart ache, but he couldn’t help but believe God had something special planned in its stead. Lord, he silently prayed as he pushed the cart down another long aisle, thank You for the opportunities You’ve already given Trina. Guide her in where to use her degree. And, Lord, please, if it be Your will, let us remain in Sommerfeld.

  Beth leaned over Trina’s shoulder and moved the mouse on the pad, bringing the cursor on top of a word underlined with a red squiggle. “See that funny line? That means you’ve spelled the word wrong. Now look. If you right-click on the mouse, the correct spelling will come up, and you can change it.”

  Trina shook her head, tossing her ribbons over her shoulders. “Well, why didn’t you tell me that before now? I wouldn’t have gotten so many poor marks on the English papers!”

  Beth laughed, bumping Trina’s shoulder. “You didn’t ask. Let me show you something else.” She dropped to one knee beside Trina’s chair and brought up an options box. Clicking inside one small square, she activated the grammar check. “This will even tell you if you’ve made grammatical errors in your sentences. I usually don’t use it, but I’ll keep it on for you, if you would like.”

  “I would like that!” Trina sighed as Beth saved the change. Suddenly she grabbed Beth’s hand, her face pinched into a worried scowl. “This isn’t considered cheating, is it? I don’t want to use something the other students don’t have.”

  Beth snorted. Trina’s naïveté was endearing, but she needed to learn the wiles of the world if she was going to venture into it. “Believe me, Katrinka, nearly all of the other students have had computers from grade school on up. They’re familiar with the use of these tools. I’d be willing to bet a lot of them just surf the Net, find an essay, download it, tweak it a bit, and then turn it in as their own.”

  Trina’s brown eyes grew round. “That’s dishonest!”

  “Of course it’s dishonest. And if they got caught, they’d be punished—hopefully. But quite a few still take the chance.”

  Trina shook her head, her eyes snapping with indignation. “Well, I don’t see how anyone could do that. Letting someone else do the work for you does nothing more than cheat yourself. How do you learn if you don’t do the work on your own?”

  “Aw, Trina. . .” Beth sat back on her haunches, warmth filling her middle. “It is so refreshing to know there are still honest, hardworking people in the world. I suspect you are going to be a terrific influence on your co-students when you’re finally sitting in a classroom instead of all alone in front of a computer screen.”

  The indignation faded, replaced by an expression of apprehension. “Beth, can I tell you something?”

  “Sure you can.”

  For a moment, Trina bit down on her lower lip, her gaze averted. “Sometimes I get really scared about going to those classes.” She lifted her head, her dark gaze meeting Beth’s. “It’s so much easier here—all alone, like you said. I don’t feel like anybody’s watching me or judging me. I can just work and feel at peace. But when I went to El Dorado to take my tests, it was hard. Not just because of what was on the tests, but because I had to be with so many people who are different from me.”

  Beth released a short, rueful chuckle. “You aren’t telling me anything I can’t understand. Look at me!” She held her hands to her sides, glancing down at her blue jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt. “Don’t you think I feel different when I walk down the streets of Sommerfeld? I don’t exactly fit, you know.”

  Trina stared at Beth, her eyes wide. “I hadn’t thought of that. When I look at you, I don’t worry about your clothes. You’re just Beth, my friend. That’s all that matters.”

  “And how did that happen?” Beth tipped her head, smiling at Trina.

  Trina shrugged, bunching the white ribbons on her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “I do.” With a smirk, Beth bounced to her feet and put her hands on her hips. “You got to know me as a person. That’s how we became friends. Between friends, the outside doesn’t matter nearly as much as the inside, Katrinka.” She gave one of Trina’s ribbons a gentle tug. “It will feel strange at first—it did for me—but you’ll get acquainted with others in your classes, and pretty soon you won’t feel out of place anymore.”

  Beth frowned, hearing her own words. Was she being completely honest with Trina? There were still times she and Sean felt out of place in Sommerfeld. They’d found a measure of acceptance, for which she was grateful, but a segment of the community either acted resigned to their presence or held them at bay, barely tolerating them.

  Yet she sensed if she shared this whole truth with Trina, it would only discourage her, so she offered another smile and said, “Give it time. It’ll all work out eventually
.”

  Trina sighed. “I hope so. I know a lot of things have already worked out, but there’s still so much that must be done. Sometimes it’s scary.”

  “New things always are.” Beth caught the back of the computer chair and turned Trina to face the computer. She assumed a teasing voice as she instructed, “But you now have a new thing at your disposal that is going to make writing these papers easier, so get to it. Sean is due home this evening around nine, and I’ll want you out of here by then so he and I can be alone.”

  Trina’s cheeks flooded with pink.

  Beth laughed. “There’s something else you’ll learn, Katrinka. It’s wonderful to have all-alone time with your husband.”

  For a moment, Trina pressed her lips together, peering at Beth out of the corner of her eye. Then an impish grin climbed her cheeks. With a smug look, she said, “That’s one lesson I don’t need to learn. I already know it well.”

  Beth laughed again, gave Trina a quick hug, and backed away from the computer to let her work. Settling into Sean’s recliner, Beth picked up a book and opened it, but Trina’s comment—“I already know it well”—ran through her mind, and she couldn’t stop a chuckle from rumbling. That Trina. . .full of surprises. She sincerely hoped the world wouldn’t squelch Trina’s joyful spirit. Just to be on the safe side, she closed her eyes and handed that concern to her heavenly Father.

  At a quarter to nine, Trina closed down the computer, gathered up her papers, and headed for home. Beth watched her through the front window until she turned the corner. Then she watched for Sean’s return. The days were shorter, and full dark let her see the car headlights when they turned the corner a block away. She stepped out onto the porch, dancing a bit as the cold floor seeped through her socks, and waved when he turned into the driveway.

  He rolled down the window and called, “Hello, beautiful!”

  She danced across the grass to lean in and give him a welcome-home kiss. She missed him tremendously when he spent days away, but she had to admit the homecomings were nice.