by Beth Wiseman
“I’m sure she did.” Edna sniffled. “And you can think whatever you want to about me. I don’t care.” She started to cry.
Andrea knew that feeling, the place in a person’s psyche where darkness loomed, drawing you in like an old friend with bad intentions. Edna wasn’t Charlotte’s favorite person. Edna might have played a role in Ethan’s death. Edna had hidden money on Ethan’s property. Why?
“Well, my sister certainly doesn’t care for you.” Andrea held her position in the grass next to the buggy.
“Ya, I’m aware of that.”
“Maybe it’s because you keep hitting on her boyfriend, or maybe it’s because you broke our brother’s heart before he killed himself.” Andrea shrugged. “Sounds like enough for me not to like you either. And that means that whatever you found on this property isn’t yours.”
“It’s mine if I put it here!” Edna’s eyes blazed red and wide, like the poster child for “Amish Gone Wild.”
“Settle down, Sista.” Andrea frowned. “I thought you Amish people were reserved and passive.”
“I won’t be Amish for long.” Edna’s eyes had melded back to tears, the rage seemingly induced by temporary panic. “And you can tell Charlotte I won’t be bothering her and Daniel anymore either. I’m leaving this place!”
Good riddance, perhaps? Andrea chewed on her lip, a thought niggling at her. “You’re leaving the church to go be something else, like Lutheran or something?”
Edna didn’t even try to stop the tears streaming down her face. “Ya, whatever you want to think.”
“Um, where are you going?”
“Somewhere there isn’t any pain.”
Andrea sighed, wishing she had a cigarette. But it had been over a week since she’d had one, and she was proud of that fact. “Like where?”
“What does it matter to you?” Edna picked up a pair of black sunglasses from the buggy seat and slipped them on.
“Maybe you shouldn’t drive your buggy so upset.” An odd feeling swirled in the pit of Andrea’s stomach.
“Don’t bother trying to pretend you care about my well-being.”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. What’s the five hundred dollars for?”
Edna cried harder as she quickly reached for the box and worked hard to pry it open with her short fingernails.
“It’s all there. Five hundred dollars.” Andrea had put the money back the day she’d bought groceries. And she’d felt good about spending her own money on the groceries.
“It’s to pay a debt I owe. I want to leave this world debt free in hopes that God will have mercy on my soul.”
Attention seeker? Or a cry for help? Edna could have already pulled away in the buggy. Andrea thought about Ethan, deciding she wasn’t willing to risk it.
“Edna, whatever is going on, I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” Andrea had been preached to by the choir plenty of times. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been the preacher.
Edna shook her head so hard that her prayer covering fell to one side. It wasn’t tied—none of the women tied the things—so it was easy for her to yank it off.
Andrea wasn’t sure what the purpose of the head covering was, but it seemed symbolic that Edna would rip hers off like that.
“It can’t be fixed. I can’t be fixed.” Edna covered her face with her hands. “I’ve made bad choices repeatedly, done things that are wrong in God’s eyes.” Still crying, she took her hands from her face and tossed her sunglasses on the seat as her lip trembled. “John never touches me!” Her voice rose as her eyes took on the wild look again.
She held her palms up and looked up at the top of her buggy. “Why, Lord? All I’ve ever wanted was to be loved and to have a child. And I end up with a man who wants nothing to do with me physically.” She dropped her gaze and turned to Andrea. “This is what I get. I’m being punished! God is denying me happiness now.”
“Um . . . I’ll be the first to say I’m not up to speed on religion, particularly yours, but I’m not sure that’s how it works.” Andrea shrugged. “Something about forgiveness of sins and all that.”
“Do you know what my biggest regret is?”
Andrea couldn’t imagine. Edna sounded like she had a bucketful, so Andrea just shrugged again.
“I can’t be here anymore. I just can’t. And what if my actions keep me from heaven? I won’t see my parents who have passed, or my cousins whom I loved, or even Ethan. I’ll burn in hell, I fear.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that. Really.”
“How can you say that?” Edna shook her head until most of her hair landed past her shoulders. “Hell for eternity.”
“Well, good grief, if you believe that, why kill yourself?” Andrea figured she might as well play along. Even if there wasn’t a heaven or hell, this crazy gal believed there was.
Edna put both her hands against her chest as she cried. “Because I can’t breathe anymore. And I’m tired of trying. Too much pain.”
Andrea sighed. God, if You’re listening, I could use a little help right now. The last thing she needed was Edna’s suicide on her conscience. Andrea had enough regrets without adding that to the mix.
“Okay, so your husband doesn’t want to have sex.” Andrea tucked her hair behind her ears, then scratched her forehead. “Most guys around our age have a healthy appetite when it comes to that. Maybe there is something wrong with him, you know . . . physically. And maybe it embarrasses him, if that’s the case.”
Edna blew her nose in a handkerchief, then sniffled again as she blushed. “Then maybe his distance isn’t all my fault.”
Maybe he isn’t attracted to you. Andrea doubted that was it. Edna was pretty. Maybe he just doesn’t love you anymore. Whatever the case was, Andrea didn’t feel the need to pour salt in Edna’s open wounds. Edna’s husband could be keeping his distance for all kinds of reasons. Right now, Andrea wanted Edna to calm down and readjust her thinking.
“Correct. It takes two to tango, so whatever is going on isn’t exclusively your fault.” Andrea gave a taut nod. She waited for Edna to bid her farewell and to scurry along, no longer feeling the need to off herself, but Edna just stared at her.
“What made you hide the money here?” Andrea scratched her head. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to stash it at your house?”
Edna lowered her eyes for a few moments before she looked back at Andrea. “I used to come here sometimes after Ethan died. It was a quiet place to think. I saved money I made at the market selling potholders, cookbooks, and other handmade items. I wasn’t happy with John, and I felt like I needed some emergency money.” She shrugged, sighing. “One day I brought the money with me, and this seemed a safe place to hide it. I couldn’t foresee Charlotte actually coming to Lancaster County.”
Andrea nodded, then looked over her shoulder. “I need to check on my baby. Um . . . do you want to come in?”
Edna peered past Andrea, the lines on her forehead wrinkling. “I haven’t been in that house since . . . since before Ethan died.” She bit her lip for a few moments. “And I’m not sure Charlotte would appreciate me going inside since she doesn’t care for me.” She rolled her swollen eyes. “Not that I blame her. I don’t really care for me either.”
“It’s fine to come in.” Andrea figured she’d take one for the team by letting Edna come in. “Come on. Really, it’s fine.”
Edna slowly slipped out of the buggy. A wad of used tissues fell in the grass. After she picked them up, she walked with Andrea to the house. As soon as they were in the living room, Andrea looked at the clock. Four thirty. She’d have to scoot Edna out in about thirty minutes, before Charlotte got home in an hour or so.
“What lovely jewels.” Edna leaned down over the coffee table eyeing several of Andrea’s projects.
“Thanks. Have a seat. I just want to check on my daughter.” Andrea eased the bedroom door open. Bella was still sleeping, pillows propped up around her.
When Andrea returned to the
living room, Edna was standing in the middle of the room looking around. “It feels odd to be here.” She offered a weak smile to Andrea. “Did you know your bruder at all?”
“No, I didn’t. We were separated when I was a baby.”
“Ethan was full of goodness. And, despite our differences, it seems as though Charlotte is a good person too.” She smiled again. “Like you.”
Andrea was trying to be a good person, but hearing someone acknowledge it caused her to swallow back a lump in her throat.
“I’m sure you wish you’d known him. But you’ll meet him someday.”
Andrea rolled her eyes. “I don’t see how.”
“Heaven, of course.”
Andrea sat down while Edna stayed put in the middle of the living room. “Forgive me for saying this, but a few minutes ago you were ready to end it all, believing that you might not go to heaven if you did so. If heaven is so great, why would you risk not going there by killing yourself?”
Aha! Maybe attention seeker, after all.
Edna’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so embarrassed about my outburst. You don’t even know me. I just get confused.”
I might know you better than you think.
“Sometimes, when I can’t breathe, I really do just want the pain to stop. But then . . . I do have thoughts of heaven. Today, you helped me to think about my actions, and I’m grateful to you for that.”
Andrea wished that she could close her eyes, open them, and believe in an afterlife that so many others believed in. She’d just spent a chunk of time convincing Edna to stick around in this life, to avoid possibly being denied access into the next life—the life Andrea didn’t believe in. The craziness of it all.
Charlotte had done a lousy job of trying to convince her there was a heaven. Maybe this Amish woman had something new to offer. “I don’t believe in heaven. Or hell.” She raised an eyebrow, challenging Edna to make a case for the afterlife she longed for.
Edna’s jaw fell. “How can you say that? Do you believe in God?”
Andrea nodded. “Yeah, I do. I think someone is responsible for all this”—she waved a hand around the room—“and I’ve had great success with prayers at certain times in my life.” Like when I was hiding from my adoptive father in a closet.
“Great success?” Edna slid into the rocking chair. “Does that mean your prayers were answered?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
Edna scowled. “How can you believe in our Father but not believe in heaven? It’s like . . . cake and icing.”
These women must have gone to the same Bible study or something. “I don’t understand what that means, cake and icing.”
Edna smiled a little. “At another confusing time in my life, many years ago, a woman highly regarded in our community explained heaven to me in a way I could understand. I’ll do my best to explain it to you.” She took in a breath. “The cake is the foundation for the icing, such as believing in God is the essence of heaven. Once you’ve experienced even a little taste of heaven, you appreciate how it complements the cake. A slice of heaven on earth.”
“Not everyone likes icing.” Andrea pressed her mouth into a thin-lipped smile.
“True. But even if you put icing on a cake, try it, and decide you don’t like it and scrape it off, the taste lingers, even if you can’t see it. Once you know in your heart that there is a heaven, you have that to savor and draw on.”
“I need tangible evidence there is a heaven. What if a bunch of people got together to write the Bible and the entire thing is fictional?”
Edna smiled. “What if they did? I don’t believe that, but heaven is a place we can visit while here on earth, a place as real and tangible as the chair I’m sitting in.”
You’ll have to do better than that. Andrea raised an eyebrow again.
“Imagine perfect love. Unselfish, pure love. Picture yourself inside a bubble of love, a place where no harm can come to you.”
That would be awesome, if it was possible . . .
“Take yourself to that place. Like the icing, it’s always available to us, whether we accept it or not. And through forgiveness of our sins, we are cleansed in God’s perfect love.”
“Well, beam me up, Scotty. It sounds great.” Andrea folded her hands in her lap and leaned into the couch. “Where does the tangible part come in? Because if heaven is so great, I’d like to see it for myself. And I don’t mean I’m ready to die. You said it’s real and tangible. So show me.”
Edna smiled. “I can’t show you my heaven, any more than you can show me yours. You must feel it, know it to be true, without a shadow of a doubt. It takes faith.” Edna stood, clasping her hands in front of her. “I see now that today was not about me. It was God’s will that we have this conversation. For you.”
Andrea stood also, more confused than ever. “So, I just try to feel God’s love, and He will show me a slice of heaven, like the cake with the icing I don’t like?”
Edna took a few steps toward Andrea and winked. “You just haven’t found the right icing.”
Andrea’s heart pounded in her chest as her temples throbbed. “How do I do that?”
“It’s your journey, Andrea. You might have to sample a lot of varieties that you don’t find tasty, but when you are on the right path, the right icing will become very appealing and latch on to you with a wonderful vengeance.” Pressing her palms together, she said, “Now, I must go.” She took another step and hugged Andrea. “Danki.”
Andrea didn’t move as Edna left the room, closing the door behind her. She was pretty sure she’d never look at cake and icing in the same way. And she thought about what Charlotte had said about Blake maybe needing the money more than they did. It sounded like Edna needed the five hundred dollars more than Andrea. She was glad she put the money back in the metal box.
As she opened the bedroom door, Bella was sitting amid the pillows smiling. There hadn’t been any of her wake-up noises. No whining or tears. Just love in its purest form staring back at her. Andrea closed her eyes for a moment as she stood at the threshold, a divider between two rooms. She could step forward toward the love or step backward, knowing what was behind her but allowing it to pull her in anyway. Never before had putting one foot in front of the other seemed so important.
She took the step with her eyes closed. A baby step. Toward the love. Knowing there would be a learning curve, like a baby learning to walk, falling often. But Andrea was going to keep getting up.
As she eased her eyes open, everything looked different. Brighter. Hopeful. And her heart sang in a way she’d never heard before. Or maybe she hadn’t been tuned in prior to this moment. Perhaps this was her first melodious glance at what heaven would be like.
She ran to Bella, picked her up, and clung to her with all the love a mother had for a child. Then she went back to the living room, facing forward this time. She could travel from one room to the next without taking a step backward. She could see what was ahead of her, not behind her. Smiling, she liked what she saw.
As a tear trickled down her cheek, Andrea stood at the window, watching Edna leave. Edna never looked back. Andrea wasn’t going to either.
But then she saw a car turning into the driveway. A car she recognized. If ever there were a time for prayer, it was now.
Nineteen
Charlotte started Big Red, then called Daniel. She listened as he told her about a conversation he’d had with Jacob. When he was done, she said, “It sounds like Jacob is turning over a new leaf. Andrea has also made a lot of positive changes in her life. She’s still rough around the edges, but at her core, she’s a good person. It really doesn’t matter how messed up our childhoods were. It’s how we handle our pasts that will determine our futures.”
“Wow. This is a new twist on the Charlotte Dolinsky I know. If I’m not mistaken, that sounds like a cup half full, not half empty.”
Charlotte smiled. “I feel good. I think God has put Andrea and Bella in my life for a reason, and I th
ink I’m ready to take a big step forward.” Hint, hint. Daniel didn’t bite. Instead he was quiet. “Um, how’s your mother? Any change?”
“Nee. The same. Daed will be back at the hospital in a couple of days. I have no idea what Aenti Faye said to get him to go home, but he needed a proper shower and something besides potato chips to eat. Charlotte . . .”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about Mamm not really living, all hooked up to machines. But I don’t think my father is ever going to agree to letting Mamm go, even if Annie and I decide it’s the best thing to do.” He paused, and Charlotte had heard the shakiness in his voice. “It would be hard not to have our mother here. Even though we are adults, and . . .” His voice faded away.
“I know. And I’m so sorry this is happening.” Charlotte fought the tinge of guilt swirling around inside. How could she be thinking about marriage when Daniel was in the throes of this horrible situation with his mother?
“Ya. It’s awful.”
They were quiet, but as Charlotte pulled into Bishop Miller’s driveway, she ended the call, telling Daniel she was running errands on her way home from work.
She knocked on the front door of the bishop’s modest farmhouse. For a man with such power, she supposed she’d expected something a bit fancier, even though fancy was something her Amish friends tried to avoid. The small house was painted white with black trim around the windows. It wasn’t nearly as big as the Byler or King residences, which had been in their families for generations. Based on the structure of this small house, it looked newer than those.
“Charlotte.” The bishop extended his hand to her. “What brings you calling at this hour?”
“Oops. I’m sorry. This is the supper hour, and I should have waited until a bit later. But I was on my way home from work, and . . .” She sighed. “I can come back another time.”
“Nee, nee. We just finished a fine meal of roasted chicken and dressing.” He smiled as he stepped aside for her to enter the living room. She could hear a woman and children’s voices coming from the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”