“Blunder?”
“David told me to allow you one slip-up. Just one.”
Blunder. That was a kind word. Luke might have called it something else. “Amos, can you tell me what Izzy’s story is?”
“Nope. It’s hers to tell.” He took off his hat and ruffled his thinning hair. “So why’d you do it? Why would you bring beer on my farm? Why would you offer it to her?”
“I guess . . . I wanted to get Izzy to notice me. She hates me, I think.”
“Hate is a strong word, but she might. Especially after what you just did. You can’t ask something of people they don’t want to give. If she doesn’t think much of you, that’s her choice. She has a choice whether to like you or not, you know.”
“Well, sure, I know that.” But he didn’t. Luke had never had trouble with girls not liking him. Even Ruthie, who had grown tired of his drinking and mischief, she had liked him. Everyone liked him, even when they were mad at him. It was part of his charm, which, the counselor pointed out, was also part of his problem. He’d been given too many free passes by others.
“I spoke to David. He had a suggestion about how to get people to trust you again.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll let him give you the details. Tomorrow, if we have time to see him.”
“Tomorrow?” Do you ever look past tomorrow? Izzy’s words kept echoing in Luke’s head.
“Tomorrow. Maybe the next day. We have cherries ripening, fast. And then it’s time to start thinning out the peach blossoms. By tomorrow night, after a full day of cherry picking, you’ll be plenty sore and not so interested in talking to the bishop.” He turned back to his workbench. “So, what about these shears?”
Luke walked to the bench and took them out of Amos’s hands. “Thank you.”
Amos eyed him. “You telling me the truth about not drinking that beer?”
“Smelled it. Came close to drinking it. But I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t touch a drop.”
“Then, after you fix this, we’ll go in and tell Fern we need something good to eat to help us celebrate.”
“Celebrate? Celebrate what?”
“Have you ever turned down a cold beer on a hot day before?”
“Huh.” Awareness spilled in slowly, like a shaft of sunlight hitting a window. A thoughtful grin spread over Luke’s face. “Come to think of it, I don’t believe I ever have.”
Amos left the shears with Luke to repair and walked back up to the house. David had warned him to expect something like this, to not overreact if it happened. He said it would probably happen when something frustrating occurred, because that’s when the recovering alcoholic had to dig deep and use different skills to handle a difficult situation. Their first go-to would be their old go-to. “The first step in learning is unlearning,” David had told him. “It’s the casting off of old habits.”
Izzy had never had a relapse, but then, she had a focused mind. Luke Shrock had nothing on his mind.
Amos stopped to catch his breath. That’s it! That’s the trouble with Luke. He didn’t have any goal, anything to shoot for. But what? He’d have to ask Fern. She was good about that kind of thing. He started back up the hill and heard the door open. Fern was heading down to meet him. For once, she hadn’t startled him by appearing without warning.
“It’s happening too often.”
“What?”
“Halting halfway up the hill to catch your breath.”
Did she see everything?
“Izzy told me what happened.”
He grunted. “Is she upset?”
“Yes. No. Both, I suppose.”
“Does she want us to make Luke leave? Because I warned you, that day David asked us to let Luke board here. I told you that if he created any problem for Izzy, he was out.” Amos felt fiercely protective of Izzy, just as he had of his own three daughters.
“Izzy can handle herself. She showed us that tonight.”
“I told Luke I won’t let him undo her progress.”
“She’s stronger now.”
Amos hoped Fern was right. “Luke told me about the beer. He didn’t drink it. Not sure if that’s because I came in—”
“You’re not sure if he would have drank it?”
“Not that part. I’m pretty sure he’d decided he wasn’t going to drink it. It was the telling me part. That’s what I’m not sure of.”
“Hmmm,” Fern said, in that way she had that made him know she had something else to say. Her gaze shifted down toward the barn. “But he did tell you.”
“He did. He poured out the beer on the ground. Your cats might be acting a little funny tonight.”
“Amos, I’ve been giving some thought to Luke.”
Good. Fern was just the one to figure out how to help Luke. She had a tolerance for troubled people that Amos found astonishing, as if she could see a diamond deep inside. He saw no such diamond. His only thought about Luke was to tire him out with hard labor. “What’s the plan?”
“A fix-it shop.”
“For Luke?”
She glanced up the hill. “In the buggy shop. If we get it cleaned out, there’s plenty of room to make a shop.”
Amos mulled that over. Luke was a surprisingly capable fellow. So far, he’d fixed an old plow, a loose part on Bob’s buggy, and tonight, his favorite shears. No one had been able to bring that plow back to life, but somehow Luke jerry-rigged it to work. Fixing things—that was a pretty important skill to have in life.
“I can’t spare him until the harvest is in. September, probably October.” By then, Amos was confident Luke would be long gone. He looked up at his wife and saw that she was quite serious about this. “Think anyone would trust him with their things?”
“There’s no one else in Stoney Ridge who can fix things, now that Hank is retired and Jesse has no time for buggy repairs since he started at the Bent N’ Dent.”
That was a generous assessment. Hank never really fixed anything, anyway. Hank was Amos’s uncle, his favorite, a one-of-a-kind character. Hank thought about doing a lot, and even started quite a bit, but rarely got around to finishing anything. Fern might just have the right idea for Luke. He smiled at her. She was a gem, a true jewel.
She smiled back, as if she knew what he was thinking. “I made an appointment for you to see Dok tomorrow morning. Get your heart checked. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late, she said. She’s squeezing you in.” She pivoted on her heels and walked toward the house.
Blast! That woman. She was a tireless dictator.
In the morning, Luke was relieved that Amos and Fern were away from Windmill Farm when David dropped by, and Izzy had gone to visit Jenny Yoder. It was humiliating enough to have this kind of a talk with David. The bishop sat at the kitchen table and put a yellow pad of paper in front of Luke, along with a pen. He sat back and folded his hands together. “Luke, it’s going to take work to build a good reputation.”
“Der alt Bull blarrt als noch.” The old bull keeps on bellowing. Another way of saying scandals never die. It was one of those bromides Fern spouted all the time.
David looked up at Luke. “Es is ken Laschst so gross as die as mer sich selwert macht.” There is no burden so great as that which is self-made.
Luke lifted his palms in surrender. “Touché.”
“I had a long talk with your counselor yesterday. He said that he’s been working through the Twelve Steps with you.”
“That’s true. We’ve gone over all of them. They’re helpful, especially step 1. I think about that one a lot.” We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable. He had memorized all of them. Everyone did. It was part of the program.
“Your counselor suggested going over them each and every day. As part of your time in prayer.”
“Yup. I’ve been doing that.”
“What about steps 8, 9, and 10?”
Luke’s stomach twisted. He rubbed his forehead. Step 8. Make a list of all persons we had harmed,
and become willing to make amends to them all. “I’ve made a list.” The counselor had asked him to make a list, and so he did. He just hadn’t done anything about it.
“Excellent. Where is it?”
“I’m not sure. Probably down with my stuff in the tack room. Want me to go look for it?”
“No.” David’s eyes flashed to the paper pad. “Start again.”
“You mean, now?” Oh gag. He suddenly had a flashback to the rehab clinic, sitting in group therapy, feeling just as uncomfortable.
“Now.”
Luke sighed. He picked up the pen and wrote down three names. Then he set the pen down and looked up at David. He had the same look on his face that his counselor had.
“Just three names?”
“Just three. Don’t look at me like that! Everyone blames me for anything that went wrong in Stoney Ridge.” David lowered his eyes at that, in a way that made Luke feel ashamed. He suddenly thought of how he sounded, like a spoiled child. “No, not everyone.”
David lifted his eyes. “Tell me about these three.”
“I put a cherry bomb in Amos’s mailbox. I killed Patrick’s mynah bird. And I hurt Galen’s sorrel bay—but that was an accident.”
David reached inside his coat and took out a thick envelope. He handed it to Luke. It was a list of offenses Luke had made. One after the other, page after page.
Luke skimmed each page. “You have got to be kidding. You’re saying I need to make amends for something I did when I was . . . what . . . thirteen years old? Or something as minor as cutting down a rope swing at Mattie and Sol’s house?”
“Isn’t that what steps 8 and 9 are all about? Make a list of all persons harmed. Become willing to make amends to them. And then step 9. Make direct amends wherever possible.”
Luke couldn’t argue with that. He just hadn’t realized that so many people held grudges in this town. What about forgiveness? What about second chances? “So let me get this straight. You want me to go to every single person on this list—every single person—and apologize to them? For things that happened years ago?”
David nodded. “There’s power in apology, son. So yes, I want you to offer each person a sincere, heartfelt apology. But there’s something else I want you to do. I also want you to ask each one how your behavior affected them. And you don’t leave until they tell you.”
Luke jumped up from his chair. “You can’t be serious. What good would that do?”
“Quite a bit. For you, to understand consequences of choices. For those you harmed, it will give them an opportunity to express their hurt. There’s a cost to our actions . . . and someone is paying for that cost. You need to see what you’ve cost people, Luke. Up close.”
“Why not just put me in the village stocks? Or whip me publicly?” He slapped his forehead. “Why not just brand me as a sinner?”
David smiled. “Trust me, Luke. This exercise—it’s in your best interest. It will promote healing, full and complete healing, for you. For others too.”
“I couldn’t disagree more. It might be nice for people to have a chance to yell at me, but I have no doubt this ‘exercise’ will set me back. How am I supposed to forgive myself when I keep getting reminders of what a jerk I’ve been? This whole idea—it’ll send me right to the bottle.”
“About that. Sit down and cool off.”
Luke made a show of sitting down, scraping the chair legs against the floor.
“Now, can you explain what happened yesterday afternoon?”
Luke crossed his arms against his chest, shrugged, and looked away. “If Amos told you, then you already know what happened.”
“Sounds to me like it was something the old Luke might have done. A way to get attention from a pretty girl.”
Luke felt that same sharp poke at his gut that he’d gotten when Izzy had asked him if he ever thought past tomorrow. He changed the subject. “If I understood a little more about Izzy, then maybe I wouldn’t have to try so hard.”
David’s face remained impassive.
“Can’t you tell me something about her? Anything?”
“Like what?”
“I remember her, David. She was at rehab when I first arrived. Why is she here?”
“Amos and Fern invited her to live with them.”
“I figured that. But why does she want to live here?”
“She has an interest in the Plain life.”
“Lots of people are interested. That doesn’t mean they drop everything and convert.”
“Izzy’s interest is . . . well, very intentional. She knows what she wants. A little bit like Patrick Kelly. He felt a calling to the Plain life.”
“And didn’t that just turn out swimmingly? He's marrying my girl.” Luke knew this was not a mature attitude. But he also knew he could be real with David because he didn’t go away. Nothing, nothing seemed to push him away from Luke. He wanted Luke to feel comfortable saying anything to him, as long as he spoke with respect. That wasn’t hard—Luke had profound respect for David, more than for anyone else he knew.
He waited for David to say more, but he had nothing more to volunteer. “Here’s the way I figure it. She came here because she had no place else to go.”
“Like you?”
Ouch. Yes, like me.
David pointed to the thick stack of papers. “It’ll take you a while to get through the entire list. Remember, it’s not a race. This is meant to be a therapeutic process, and healing takes time. I’d start from the top and proceed from there. I’d recommend you get to Alice Smucker as soon as you can.”
Alice Smucker? He couldn’t remember doing anything to bother her. Oh wait. Hold on. Now he remembered. He threw a snake into her buggy.
Luke read the first name. Amos Lapp. Blew up mailbox.
five
Luke waited nervously until Amos and Fern returned from wherever they’d been all morning. When he heard the faint jingle of tack and traces, he went outside to take Bob out of his harness and lead him to his stall. He waited until Fern and Amos got out of the buggy, but they didn’t. They remained inside for the longest while. Luke stood a few feet away and froze when he realized that they were having some kind of important conversation. The window flap was open and he could see that Fern was crying. Fern Lapp. Crying! Not in a weepy way, but quietly. Dabbing the corners of her eyes with tissue sort of way.
Amos tipped his forehead against his wife’s and whispered something to her. Luke ducked to offer them privacy. He backed up, hoping to slip away unnoticed, but didn’t realize there was a large water bucket in his path. Over he went, head over feet, landing in the bucket with a splat and a yelp. Startled, Amos and Fern peered out the buggy window at him, just as Izzy came out of the house. All three stared at Luke, sitting like a fool in a water bucket.
He scrambled out of the bucket, face burning red. “I wasn’t listening in, Amos. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you privately for a minute . . . but then I realized you . . . Fern . . . needed some alone time . . . so I—”
Amos opened the buggy door and climbed out. “First let me get the horse into the barn.”
Luke brushed water off his pants. He could feel drips rolling down his legs into his socks. “I’ll do it.” Amos looked tired. Gray with exhaustion. “You go inside and take a break.”
Amos frowned. “I’m not dead yet.” He started unfastening the horse’s harness buckle.
“Oh Amos, let him help.” Fern put her hand on her husband’s arm. “Let’s go in and get some lemonade. I made a pitcher before we left. Should be cold by now.”
He stopped and tucked his chin against his chest. “Fine.”
Luke watched them head toward the house. Something didn’t seem quite right, and he could tell Izzy had the same response. She was watching them too, arms crossed, with a puzzled look on her face.
After the door closed behind them, Izzy didn’t move. She just stared at the closed door. Suddenly, she remembered Luke, spun around to frown at him, then went into
the house.
Why did everybody frown at him so much? He didn’t know. He unfastened the rest of the buckles, grabbed Bob’s harness to lead him forward, and watched the buggy slip down, its shafts sticking up in the ground like two huge chopsticks. He scratched the horse’s nose and was rewarded with a gentle nudge. He settled the horse into his stall and made sure he had fresh cool water and a handful of oats for his trouble. It was a warm day, one of the hottest so far. He was fiddling with the latch on the horse’s stall door as Amos came into the barn.
“What are you doing?”
“I found Bob out of his stall this morning, helping himself to breakfast. I thought I’d tighten up the screws on the latch.”
He walked over to Luke. “Hmm. Sure you didn’t leave the latch undone?”
Luke looked up. “I might have. Still, when I checked it, the screws seemed a little loose.”
Amos looked a little better. Some color had returned to his face. He seemed older to Luke than he had this morning, which was a weird thought, but it was true. His skin was more lined and creased. Luke wasn’t sure it was the right time to have a serious talk. Then again, there probably never was a good time for these kinds of talks.
“Good lemonade?”
“Hit the spot. ‘Timeless in labor and wisdom and love, the wife of a farmer was sent from above.’ Remember that, when you get married.”
Getting married couldn’t be further from Luke’s thoughts. He plopped down on a bale of hay. Amos was peering into Bob’s stall, probably to check and see if Luke had taken proper care of him. Satisfied, he turned around. “So, what’s on your mind?”
“I want to apologize for blowing up your mailbox.”
Amos nodded.
This wasn’t so bad. Maybe, it didn’t have to be so serious. Maybe David was right. All that he needed to do was offer a heartfelt apology.
But Amos was waiting for more.
“And uh, I wondered if that admittedly juvenile act had any adverse effect on you?”
Amos stood across the aisle, facing Luke, elbows raised up high, leaning his back against the stall. The horse lifted his head to watch them, a curious onlooker. “I had a sister, eldest in the family. Our mother died when she was young, so this sister . . . she raised me and my brothers.”
Mending Fences Page 5