Shandell loved hearing them talk about their families. Once she had thought it was desirable to be an only child—the star of the show—but from the affectionate and teasing way her Amish friends spoke of their siblings, well, it was sort of like trying to follow a soap opera on TV. James had three sisters and four brothers, and Rachel had eight siblings, and they knew lots of families who had even more kids.
When James and Rachel asked about her family, Shandell told them the truth. “I’ll be honest with you. My home life isn’t exactly picture-perfect.” She admitted that Phil had a drinking problem, and her mom had become a workaholic. “I used to think that she was working hard to stay ahead of all the bills. Now I’m beginning to wonder if part of the reason for her two jobs is to stay away from Phil. He’s surly and mean when he drinks, and the house is dark and depressing. He keeps the shades closed, and he can barely get off his corner of the couch.”
Over the course of many afternoons, Shandell’s story had slipped out, bit by bit. James and Rachel listened as she told them how Mom met Phil, and how the three of them had lived together happily until Phil lost his job. When Rachel asked about Shandell’s father, it was as if she’d unlocked a magic box of memories, and the stories came spilling out, one after another, about how Dad nicknamed her Sunny because of her bright smile, and how he would carry her on his shoulders, and how he would sit with her on the living room floor and let her paint his nails or serve him pretend tea. In winter, he helped her build snow people and in summer he dug in the sand with her at the beach, building sand castles with towers and moats, only to watch them sink and wash away with the tides.
“He was an amazing dad,” Shandell told them. “After he died, I spent the first five years thinking he would walk through the front door at the end of each day. And the next five years, I was angry at my mother for letting him die. As if she had any way to stop it.” She told them about how her father had been killed in a construction accident. He’d been working on the pipes in a high-rise building when the floor he’d been crawling on gave way. Since she’d been young, she had been spared most of the terrible details. Mostly, she was glad he didn’t suffer.
“It’s hard to understand why Gott takes some away to heaven so young,” Rachel had told her. “So hard when we’re left here, hurting and missing our loved ones. But Gott doesn’t make mistakes. It’s all part of His plan.”
“I guess He doesn’t,” Shandell agreed. “But I’ve sure made my share of bad choices.”
In so many ways, Rachel was a sympathetic, responsible older sister. She was quick to smile or offer a sympathetic nod, and she always made sure Shandell got enough to eat. In the short time Shandell had been here, Rachel seemed to be making up for all the mothering Shandell had missed at home.
And James was like a big brother. When he wasn’t cracking jokes or telling riddles, he was a good listener. His comedic bent definitely made a task like hauling water or chopping wood easier, and it seemed the better she got to know him, the more he joked around. He had a million and one facts about trees and birds, and he had taught Shandell how to build a proper fire and skip stones on the stream.
One day, when Shandell was sitting with James, she teased him about marrying Rachel. “What are you two waiting for?” she asked. “You’re so perfect together.”
“For starters, wedding season is in the fall, and Rachel isn’t a member of the church yet. I can’t marry her until she’s baptized.” He explained that Rachel had just begun meeting with the bishop to prepare for baptism in October. Shandell hadn’t realized that an Amish person chose to be baptized, but James explained that the rumspringa time, which Englishers made such a big deal about, was often a time when teens sowed their wild oats. “After rumspringa, most Amish decide to join the faith. When you have good family and friends, there’s no reason to go anywhere else.”
She understood that. “I think most of us want to live the way we’re brought up. You have a wonderful orchard here, and you and Rachel have been so generous, but I can’t imagine living Plain, as you guys do.” She hurled a stone toward the river, and it skipped a few times.
“Good,” James said.
“Practice makes perfect,” she said. “So … don’t change the subject. After Rachel gets baptized, you two are getting married?”
He frowned. “This is not something I should be talking about with you.”
“Please, humor me. I have no love life or reliable friends or family at the moment. I need a little hope, an emotional lift.”
“We want to marry,” James admitted, “but when I got injured, I called it off.”
“What?”
“Rachel can’t be stuck with a husband in a wheelchair. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“But maybe she wants it. You can’t decide for her.”
“We’ll marry when I can stand on my own two feet. When I’m a whole man again.”
“Really. Do you think being a man is about walking?”
“A man shouldn’t be wheeled around like a wooden toy.”
“I have a cousin in California who was a soldier in the U.S. Army. He lost both legs in Afghanistan, and there’s no shame in that. It was rough for him at first, but he’s doing just fine now. He’s got two kids and he’s a computer whiz. A real hero.”
“I don’t need to be a hero. Just a gardener. A man who can take care of his family’s orchard.”
“But I’ve seen you taking care of things from that wheelchair.”
He shook his head. “It’s not enough.”
“Well, I’m sorry about the accident and all, but from my point of view, it’s what’s inside that makes a real man. Gary—nothing inside. You? Loaded with character.”
He didn’t comment, but cast a stone into the brook below.
“And, really, don’t you respect Rachel’s intelligence?”
“I do. I know she’s a very smart girl.”
“Then let her decide whether or not she wants to deal with you and your issues. Don’t boss her around. Think about it.”
His dark eyes seemed thoughtful when he turned to her. “And I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Where can you get milk shakes?”
She rolled her eyes. “At the Dairy Queen?”
He shook his head. “From nervous cows.”
“Do you always crack a joke when the conversation gets too personal for you?”
He tossed another stone. “You’re getting to know me well.”
“Oh, honeygirl, I knew something wasn’t quite right.” Rachel bent over the girl curled up on the bench and stoked her hair. The poor girl was so very sick.
When Shandell let out a tiny moan, Rachel clucked her tongue sympathetically. “I knew you weren’t eating right, and now look at you, pale as a sheet.” Rachel had arrived at the sugar shack to find Shandell inside the dark cabin, writhing in pain on the hard wooden bench.
“I’ve been having these terrible cramps,” Shandell said, squeezing her eyes shut, “and diarrhea. It’s been off and on for a few days now. Sometimes it feels like there’s a knife in my belly.”
Sympathetic, Rachel rubbed the girl’s back and stroked her dark hair gently. “My little sister Molly gets bellyaches a lot,” she commiserated. “And one thing Mamm gives her is black pepper. I’m going back to the Lapps and see if I can get a little bit for you. It’s a good natural remedy.”
Gliding on her scooter, Rachel rolled down the path through the orchard and thought about the sick Englisher girl. Rachel worried about her in so many ways. The more she learned about Shandell’s home, the more she cherished her own loving family. Rachel had not been surprised to learn that Shandell’s stepfather had a problem with alcohol. Although the Amish community did not condone drinking, everyone knew someone who had had too much to drink. Some Amish youth on rumspringa binged on beers—especially the boys. Rachel had never tried alcohol, but then she was one of those Plain girls who was content with her lot.
As she
approached the main house, she bit her lips together. It would be a challenge, borrowing from an Amish kitchen. Fortunately, James’s sister Verena was the only one in sight when she got there.
“James is still out checking the orchard with Albee, but I’m wondering if you have something for a stomachache.” Rachel didn’t say whose stomach ached, and Verena didn’t ask.
“There’s black pepper in the pantry,” Verena said. “That’s what Mamm starts with when we’re sick. And honey helps, too. A little bit before eating. We don’t have any lemon, but pepper and honey will do you for now.”
“Denki.” Rachel went into the pantry and helped herself to two paper cups, one for each home remedy.
“Are you staying for supper tonight?” Verena asked as she checked on a bin of rising dough.
Sometimes Rachel stayed to supper with the Lapps after she and James returned from his treatment. It was easier to catch a ride home from one of James’s brothers after supper. “Not today. I have plenty of time to ride my scooter home during daylight.” The days were getting longer—praise Gott!—and the orchard was beginning to fill with fluffy blossoms. What a pleasure spring was!
Rachel smiled as she rode her scooter back to the sugar shack, going out of her way so that she could pass the peach orchard, now in bloom. The fat blossoms filled the air with their sweet perfume, and the way they lined up so neatly reminded her of the frosting flowers on the edge of a wedding cake. She didn’t see James and Albee, but she knew they were out there, talking and looking for signs of pests and disease.
Just the thought of James brought a smile to her lips. He was doing so well, looking healthy as a plow horse. The extra sleep did him good, and the new therapy was building up the muscles in his arms and legs. And the treatment! Well, the time spent at the Paradise clinic had taken a lot out of James, but it was all worth it. The treatment was working!
She had just learned the exciting news a few days ago when she arrived early to pick James up. The receptionist at the clinic told her that James was still in the physical therapy center. She went into the big room and, lo and behold, he’d been standing there! Standing on his own, with just a walker nearby to help him balance.
It was a miracle—had to be!
“Praise be to Gott!” she’d gasped, catching his attention. The doctors and medical technicians all looked over at her, too.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Doc Finley asked. When she nodded, he explained that James was doing better than anyone anticipated. He had exceeded the progress of earlier patients in this study, but then his case was a bit different, with less damage to a different area of the spinal cord.
The medical explanation blurred in Rachel’s mind. She saw her James standing up, and seeing was believing!
“You’re staring like an Englisher tourist,” James said.
“I know and I don’t care. You’re standing on your own two feet, James.”
“I am. But it’s because of the treatment. Every day, I need the electric treatment to make it onto my feet.”
“It’s a start, James. A wonderful good beginning.” Unable to contain her grin, she moved closer to him and crossed her arms over her sweater. “And now we can start planning the wedding,” she whispered. She wouldn’t have said this in front of Plain folk, but she knew that the others weren’t close enough to hear. “You said you couldn’t marry me until you stood on your own two feet. Well, thanks to the Almighty and these doctors, you’re standing now.”
Wavering ever so slightly on his legs, James turned back to Rachel, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “I guess you’ve got me now.”
“I do.” Her smile couldn’t contain the joy shining in her heart. James was getting better. Gott had answered their prayers.
With a heart full of excitement, Rachel couldn’t wait to tell everyone, but as they rode home in the buggy, James had cautioned her to wait.
“I’m not walking yet,” he said. “If Dat hears that I’m standing, it would be just like him to cut off the rest of the treatment. We can’t let that happen.”
“Would your dat really do something like that?” She had always thought of Jimmy as a good, kind father.
“We can’t take that chance.”
She had agreed with James. It had been hard not to say something to Shandell when the three of them were together, but Rachel had kept her word.
Now, ironically, Shandell’s health was getting pokey as James was getting better.
When Rachel arrived back at the sugar shack, she was glad to see Shandell sitting outside on a chair facing the stream.
“Look at you! Out of bed. Are you feeling better?”
Shandell gave a little smile. “I think the fresh air helped.” Her face was still pale, but her skin had lost the sheen of sweat and fever.
“How are the cramps?” Rachel asked.
“Gone for now. But they’ve been coming and going over the past few days.”
“Well, I’ve got some home remedies that should help you feel better.” Rachel went inside to mix up some honey and pepper with warm water.
“Thanks, Rachel. Did anyone ever say that you’d make a good nurse?” Shandell called after her. “Oh, that’s right. You Amish finish school after eighth grade. Wow, that’s an educational plan that would have worked well for me. Except I’m not so good with the farm work. Fertilizer is not my friend.”
With an amused grin, Rachel handed over the cup. “You’re getting about as funny as James. Now drink this up, and I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I mean it.”
Rachel shrugged off the compliment, but as Shandell’s dark eyes held hers, there was no denying it: She was getting mighty attached to this dear girl.
The pear trees were thick with fat white buds on the verge of blooming as James wheeled himself over a mound of grass to get closer to the trees. On the lookout for leaf rollers, a type of caterpillar that liked to eat leaves and flowers, James reached up to grab a leafy branch. “I don’t see any caterpillars, but if we’re going to spray for them, we need to do it soon.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Albee said from across the grass divider. Hand atop his hat, he tipped his head back to examine the higher branches. “Got to make a decision, and I just wanted your advice.”
They did not spray pesticides when they weren’t needed, but then Albee knew that. James sensed that this was the new foreman’s attempt to gain his trust.
“No need to spray.”
“That’s what I thought.” Albee nodded. “Just wanted to be sure.”
True to his word, Albee and his wife had been quiet tenants in the Doddy house, keeping to themselves and taking their meals on their own unless invited to the Lapp home. A few times Judy had come over to help Mamm with quilting, and they talked about canning and making jam later in the season. And it had been something of a relief not to be responsible for the orchard while his treatment took so much of his time. Still, James did not want to open up to this man. Albee was living proof that James’s injury was taking him away from the orchard he loved.
“Any day now, these buds are going to open up.” Albee’s voice held wonder and anticipation. “This is a very good time of year to work in an orchard.”
“My grandfather used to say that spring hadn’t sprung until the trees were in bloom.” Even as James answered, he saw the resemblance between his grandfather and Albee Miller. Was that why Dat had hired this man? Maybe he missed his father more than he let on. Jimmy and Elmo had not worked side by side the way Elmo and James had, but there had been a strong respect and affection between father and son.
As the two men continued inspecting the row of pear trees, James squinted into the light and imagined Albee to be his grandfather. Both men had that same spry step, that habit of tipping the head back and staring up at the tree branches and sky, as if the real hub of the wheel of life was somewhere up above. Looking up to heaven? James wondered. Maybe they know something th
e rest of us still have to figure out.
“Who is out there in the sugar shack?” Albee asked suddenly, taking James off guard. “I see you coming and going there every day, but there’s smoke coming from the chimney long after you’re gone, and I know a responsible young person like you wouldn’t leave a fire untended.”
James could not lie to this man. “It’s an Englisher who fell on some hard times. Rachel and I are helping her. But no one else knows she’s out there, and I didn’t want to bother Jimmy with the details. Having Englishers around … it’s a sore spot with my father.”
“That’s your way of telling me to keep it to myself.” Albee stroked his gray beard, his soft eyes thoughtful. “When I took this job, I told your father I wouldn’t meddle in the family business, and I’m a man of my word.” He let out a breath. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen anyone loitering about there. Just as long as that fire is under control.”
“It’s under control,” James assured him.
“Then I guess we’re finished here, except for one more thing. I’ve been talking to your father about the upkeep of the orchard. It’s clear that he knows the business end well, but the trees? Not so much. He doesn’t understand how much work is done out here. He’s lucky to have you, James, with your knowledge and experience. You’ve done a good job holding this place together.”
The old man’s praise stirred up a maelstrom of emotion that rose in James’s throat and lodged there, a thick, salty knot. Such kind, welcome words. Words James had longed to hear from his father, not from this stranger.
James was glad that his eyes were shielded from Albee’s view by the wide brim of his hat.
Although the healing continued and James was now able to take a few steps on his own, he kept the news to himself. Rachel had found out his secret when she came into the clinic that day, and he figured she deserved to know. But spreading the word at home meant he would have to share with his father, and right now he could not face his father’s cutting comments and disapproval. If James showed how he could stand, Dat would be disappointed that he couldn’t walk. Show the man two steps, and Dat would wonder why he couldn’t climb a tree yet. James told himself that Dat’s disapproval had more to do with the Englisher doctors than with James. He wanted to believe that. But in the light of day, it was clear that Dat was disappointed with his oldest son.
A Simple Hope Page 23