by Ruth Reid
Joshua’s eyes widened. “Can I go?”
“It’s up to your daed.” Elijah would have liked a few minutes alone, but he also saw this as a good opportunity to give the boy a few pointers on picking out a horse. With the bishop’s approval, they were off. They came to the first holding pen. “First, you want to look at their feet.” He pointed to one limping. “The roan is probably going lame. The black one tied up doesn’t have a gut temperament with other horses. People probably irritate him too.”
Elijah moved to the next pen and looked over the stock. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but today’s nett the day to buy. Not many of these horses are trotters, and of the ones that are here, they’re either swaybacks or lame.”
“What about a saddle horse?”
“There’s a few sound-looking ones. Of course, you won’t have any idea if it’s broke until you get it home.”
“But you could train it, right?”
Elijah was hesitant to agree to that undertaking. He’d been praying about whether he should move back to Posen or not. Am I ready to leave Hopewater? Or is this God’s opportunity to stay? “You would have to ask your daed. He might nett want you to get a saddle horse. But we can look them over.”
The auction was in full swing by the time Elijah and Joshua finished looking at the horses. He’d found a few that looked promising, but he wanted to stand closer to the rail to watch their gait when they were brought into the arena. “Tell your daed I’ll be standing down by the railing so I can view them up closer. I’ll signal him if I see a gut one, then it’s up to him if he bids.”
“Okay.” Joshua rejoined his father long enough to relay the message, then returned to watch the horses at the rail with Elijah.
As the horses paraded in front of them, Elijah explained what he was looking at. A black horse with good muscle tone came into the circle. The announcer gave the particulars about the gelding named Token.
Joshua elbowed him. “What about him?”
The animal appealed to Elijah for its form and gait, but the two men bringing him out had their hands full. “No.”
A mare came out next. She, too, had issues, but biting was something he could correct. “You like that one?”
“Jah.”
Elijah turned and hand-signaled the bishop. The bidding went so quickly that Elijah wasn’t sure who won until the bishop’s paddle number was announced over the loudspeaker. “Looks like you got yourself a horse. You should go thank your daed.”
Elijah continued to watch the horses. Maybe next year he’d be in a position to buy one himself. Pickles came up next, but he didn’t watch the horse. He wanted to see the bidders. An elderly man on the second row on the opposite side of the ring won with the highest bid. The bishop should be pleased. He doubled the money he’d paid for the horse.
An inner prompting urged Elijah to warn the new owner of Pickles’s skittish nature, especially if the older man bought the horse for the woman seated beside him. Pickles required a strong hand. If she was anywhere near the man’s age, the horse wouldn’t be a good fit. Elijah studied the couple, but because a scarf was covering most of the woman’s face, he had no way of determining her age. Buyer beware.
Feeling his shoulder tapped, Elijah turned.
“Pickles fetched a gut price,” the bishop said. “Thanks to your hard work.”
“I’m glad things worked out.” Elijah was happy for the bishop, but he couldn’t shake his nagging conscience about warning Pickles’s buyer.
“We’re going to the office while the line isn’t too long to settle up. You coming?”
“I’ll meet you at the pen.” He had something more pressing on his mind to take care of first. Elijah headed toward the opposite side of the arena, but as he made his way around the various sectioned-off gates, the new owners stood and climbed down the row of benches. He followed them to a standing-room-only area near the concession stands. The place was crowded, but Elijah broke through the throng of people.
“Excuse me, sir.” His gaze flitted from the man to the woman reading the menu who stood off to the man’s side. “May I speak with you about—” He looked at the woman again and gasped. It was Catherine. No doubt. She was wearing Englisch clothes, and her scarf covered part of her face.
“Cat?” He moved in front of the man and reached for her arm.
Her muscles tensed under his touch, and a wide-eyed look of horror filled her expression.
“Catherine?” Why don’t you recognize me?
“Doc!” she cried out, her entire body shaking. In one fluid movement, the older man curled her into his arms, protectively turned her away from Elijah, and guided her toward the exit.
“Catherine, it’s me. Elijah.” He started to follow, but another man wearing a cowboy hat stepped in his path. “Catherine, wait,” Elijah shouted. “Don’t leave.”
The cowboy’s black eyes pinned Elijah with a stare. “Her name is Julie, and you’re not going near her.”
Elijah tried sidestepping the man but was shoved backward. “Her name is Catherine. She was in a bus accident six months ago.”
The man grabbed Elijah by the suspenders and jerked him up close, his breath heavy on his face. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know you.” He tightened his hold. “You’re not going near her—do you understand?”
Elijah had no recourse but to agree.
The cowboy gave him a hard push that sent Elijah stumbling into a nearby group of people. He apologized profusely to the man who had dropped his drink in the commotion, and then he pulled a five-dollar bill from his pocket. “I’m really sorry.” He handed the man the money, then bolted toward the exit.
He searched the bleachers, the holding pens, and the office. Catherine was gone. Again.
Elijah shifted his weight nervously from one leg to the other, standing in the auctioneer’s office. “I have to know the person’s name who bought the horse numbered 214.”
The woman seated behind the desk tapped a few keys on her computer. “The sale hasn’t been satisfied yet. The buyer has twenty-four hours to complete the transaction and collect the horse.”
“There isn’t anything you can do? Can you page him overhead?”
“Sorry, you’ll have to check back later.” She handed him a business card with the auction company’s phone number.
This was already the third time he’d checked tonight. He stepped away from the counter. Twenty-four hours. What were the laws for staying overnight in an auction house? He exited the office and didn’t have to go far before he noticed the No Loitering sign.
Bishop Zook approached. “What did they tell you?”
“Pickles hasn’t been paid for yet. The new owner has twenty-four hours.”
“Are you sure it was Catherine?”
“Jah, it was her.” He couldn’t imagine what had happened in the accident that had left her not knowing who she was—who he was. Her frightened image would be etched in his mind forever. “She looked straight at me . . .”
“It looks like they’re closing the building, Elijah. We’ll have to contact them in the morning.”
He nodded. “Are Joshua and Mason with the new horse?”
“Jah, they’ve already loaded her into the trailer. I arranged for Mason to bring you back here tomorrow if it’s necessary.”
“Danki.” Elijah walked back to the truck with the bishop and climbed into the back seat. Lord, I don’t want to believe You allowed me to know without a doubt that Catherine is alive, only to take her away again. What’s wrong with her? Will You please open her eyes and mind to me? He battled the final part of the prayer. If Your will is for me to let her go, I will.
Later that night, he fell asleep repeating his plea and struggling with the idea of letting Catherine go. The following morning it was as if he were being tested. The auction company at first refused to give him any information, then after calling back multiple times, he was told the horse had been paid for through a third party. The business listed was a com
mercial ranch with a post office box for an address.
He turned down the Zooks’ multiple invitations for supper and ended up moping around the cabin for days. He finally sat at the table to write a letter to George, but he was at a loss for words. What should he say? I found your sister, but now she’s Englisch—lost to the world. He attempted to write something more than “Dear George” but ended up pushing the pen and paper aside.
Lord, I thought I could accept that she’s gone, but I don’t know how to release the pain. Lord, I need You.
A knock sounded at the door, and when he answered, Joshua rushed inside.
“Will you help me find mei horse? I think she jumped the fence.”
“Give me a minute to get mei boots on.” He needed a distraction, and he’d promised the boy he’d help train the mare. But so far he hadn’t even walked into the bishop’s barn to get a closer look at her.
The two of them split up to search the fields. Elijah finally found the mare drinking out of a pond a short distance away. He clipped a rope to her halter and led her back to the bishop’s farm. While he had the horse out, he tied her to the fence, then cleaned each hoof with a pick, almost getting bit in the process. The hooves were shoed, trimmed, and in good shape.
It wasn’t long before Elijah spotted Joshua plodding through the pasture, head low and shoulders rounded. “Joshua, over here.”
The boy’s shoulders straightened, and he began running.
Elijah untied the horse from the post.
“Where did you find her?”
“At the pond.” He handed the boy the rope, then headed toward the bishop’s house. “Training starts tomorrow.”
Lynn opened the door and welcomed him inside. “We’ve been worried about you. You’re staying for supper, jah?”
He smiled. “I was hoping you would ask.”
The bishop’s wife made him a mug of coffee, and he sat with the bishop in the sitting room. This time he wasn’t interested in reading the newspaper. “How do you trust God when you can’t get past having to know why? Why didn’t she recognize me? What kind of God do we serve that . . . that stands by doing nothing when His child—me—is hurting? I want to know why.”
Bishop Zook set down his paper. “I don’t have answers to any of your questions. The only thing I can advise you to do is not lose faith. Why was Joseph in the Bible sold by his brothers to be a slave? He was falsely accused and thrown in jail. Do you think he asked God why? We know Job asked God why he lost his family and livestock. Have faith, Elijah. Trust that God has everything in control. He is the great I Am.”
Elijah nodded. Lord, forgive me. Have mercy on me, Father.
The bishop’s wife poked her head into the sitting room. “There’s someone here to see you, Titus.”
The bishop stood. “I’ll be right back.”
A few moments later, Lynn came into the room with a dish towel draped over her shoulder. She plopped down in the bishop’s chair. “It’s Titus’s bruder-in-law. I thought I’d give them some privacy.”
“I don’t remember meeting him at any of the Sunday services. Does he live in this district?”
She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “His schweschaler Hannah married an Englischer. I’m surprised Titus agreed to speak to him. The hardest thing he’s had to do was disown his schweschaler, but it was her choice. Nothing he could do. She chose to live in the world. There’s been bitterness on both sides.”
It wasn’t long before Titus appeared at the entrance of the sitting room. “Elijah,” he said solemnly, “there’s a man here who would like to speak with you.”
Elijah crossed the room. “He wants to talk to me?”
Bishop Zook nodded. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”
When Elijah entered the kitchen, the Englischer’s back was to him. He rounded the long table and, seeing him face-to-face, realized he was the older man with Catherine at the auction. Elijah sat down.
“I have a few questions for you,” the visitor began.
Chapter 35
Elijah clasped his hands and rested them on the bishop’s table. Lord, give me the right words. And let the words spoken be pleasing to Your ears.
“First, let me introduce myself. I’m Dr. Wellington, but please call me Dennis. This is an unusual situation. I’ve been in prayer about it ever since we ran into you at the auction.”
“Me too.”
“Julie came to stay with us on the ranch a few months ago, and I’ve come to think of her as a daughter.”
Elijah bit his tongue, stopping himself from correcting the man about her name. At the moment, it was more important to hear the doctor out.
“I know a lot about the Amish way. I know when a man gets married, he grows a beard. Is Julie your fraa?”
“Nay, I’m a widower. Mei fraa died of cystic fibrosis. Catherine is the woman I love. The woman you call Julie.” He studied the man’s expression but couldn’t get a feel for what he thought about not being her husband.
“She was the one who told us her name was Julie.”
Elijah shook his head. “I don’t know why she would do that. She has a niece by that name. What else has she told you about her life?”
“Nothing, and that’s what makes it so puzzling. As you’re probably aware, her long-term memory has been, simply put, short-circuited. Sometimes the brain shuts down when there’s been severe trauma.”
“She was in a bus accident.”
“I understand, and from what I read in the paper it was a bad accident. I wasn’t her doctor, but from what I’ve heard, she came into the hospital with a subdural hematoma, which is bleeding between the skull and brain. The pressure builds, and it can be deadly. Fortunately for her, the doctors were able to release the pressure, and she recovered.”
“Just not her memory.”
“That’s the troubling part. It should have returned, and bits of it has, only she didn’t recognize it.”
“What do you mean?”
“She made yummasetti. I recognized the dish as something mei fraa used to make. When I asked her about it, she had made it without a recipe. I told her it was delicious in Pennsylvania Deitsch and she replied in the same language automatically. So the memories are there, but that leads me to wonder what’s hindering the rest. Was she running away from the Amish? Is that why she was on the bus?”
“Nay. We’re from Michigan, and her cousin in Florida asked if she would come down and help in her bakery. I went along to make sure she arrived . . . safely.”
“So you were in the bus accident as well?”
Elijah nodded. “And I’ve looked for her ever since that day. You can ask the sheriff’s department how many times I’ve been there to see if there’s been any news.” Tears fell freely. “I love Catherine. I’m lost without her.”
“I can see that.”
“Catherine loves the plain way of life. She would never walk away from her belief. Never.”
Dr. Wellington wiped the moisture away from his eyes.
“Please take me to her. I have to talk to her. I have to know she’s all right.”
The doctor was silent for several seconds. Finally, he nodded, and a rush of relief washed over Elijah.
“You have to understand,” the doctor said. “I can’t force her to remember you—and neither will you.”
Seated on the front porch, Julie grabbed another potato to peel. “Cynthia, are you going to tell me what’s been wrong with Doc these past few days?”
For days now Doc had been too quiet. It seemed he either locked himself in his study or went on long walks alone. He wasn’t himself, that was for certain.
“He has a lot on his heart.” Cynthia peeled the potato without looking up.
“That’s why I’m so worried. It hasn’t been that long ago that he had to take pills for his chest pain. Do you think he’s having pain again?”
Cynthia finished the potato and tossed it into the bowl. She picked up another one, then set it and the paring
knife on her lap. “What do you know about the doc’s late wife?”
“Her name was Hannah. She was the one who wanted to make this place into a children’s ranch.” Julie shrugged. “Her favorite flower was lilacs, which is why there’s a grove at the end of the pathway.”
“Did you know she was Amish?”
“No.” She stopped peeling and gave Cynthia her full attention.
“He used to treat a lot of Amish folks, and he hired her to work as a receptionist in his office. They ended up falling in love, and it created a lot of problems. She was shunned from the community and disowned by her family.”
“That’s sad.”
“In some ways she was tormented by the separation, but she loved Doc.”
“Did her family ever come around?”
Cynthia shook her head. “They would turn the other way when they saw her in town. When she was dying, Doc went to see her brother, but even knowing his sister wasn’t going to live long, he refused to see her. Doc was devastated when she died. He went through all the stages of grief, only he never got over his bitterness toward the Amish. In some ways, I believe when he’s thinking about Hannah, he automatically stirs up the anger pent up toward her family. He hated them for a while.”
“That would rot anyone’s heart.”
Cynthia nodded. “I’ve prayed for years that he would forgive— for his own sake.”
“I’ve been praying for God to heal his heart physically, but now I’m going to pray that God deals with his soul.” Julie sighed. Now it made sense why Doc had shuttled her out of the auction so fast when the bearded man in suspenders called her someone else. Without peripheral vision, she had been startled when he grabbed her arm. She hadn’t even noticed he was Amish until Doc whirled her into his protective arms and got her to safety outside the building.
Doc’s truck pulled into the yard, and Cynthia was quick to start peeling again. “He’s home. Let’s not talk about Hannah anymore.”