When Joshua didn’t answer, Charlie slapped him lightly on the back. “Perhaps you should start there.”
CHAPTER 41
Becca walked into her trailer dusty and tired after a long week of work, but she also felt curiously satisfied. Her assigned jobs had certainly turned out different than she’d expected, and in spite of the current strain between her and Joshua, she was glad she had come.
Nancy sat at the table, working on some needlework. “Pillowcases for Alice.”
“She’ll appreciate that. She seems like a very nice woman.”
“That she does.”
Becca sat down and slipped off her shoes, nearly groaning as she did so. “I thought farmwork was hard, but that’s nothing compared to nailing hurricane joists.”
“I saw you working on house number three.”
They had taken to calling Alice’s house number one, her next-door neighbor’s number two, and the one at the end—the one with the least amount of work done—as house number three. The lot on the opposite side of Alice’s was still empty. Becca wondered if it was because no one owned it or if the people weren’t sure they wanted to rebuild on the island. Although she loved it here, she couldn’t imagine living somewhere that could place you in the path of a hurricane.
“Tornadoes in some places, hurricanes or earthquakes in others,” her mother had said in a recent letter. “We place our lives in Gotte’s hands wherever we choose to live.”
Nancy tapped a letter on the table, bringing Becca back to the present. “Another one from Sarah’s mamm. Take it in to her when you go?”
“Sure.” But Becca didn’t reach for the letter. “Do you think it’s a little odd? That her mamm writes her every day?”
“Perhaps.”
“She’s taken to not opening them. They’re stacked in a pile on top of our dresser.”
“Could be she needs a break from her situation in Cody’s Creek.”
Becca thought about that for a few minutes. What was going on in Sarah’s life? Was this mission trip an escape for her? And how could she help?
She decided to start with a cup of hot tea.
Nancy said she wasn’t thirsty, so Becca made two cups of lemon-flavored tea, put them on a tray, and added a small jar of honey, a spoon, the letter, and a plate of sugar cookies. Balancing it carefully, she walked down the hall to the other end of the trailer.
She didn’t knock—after all, it was her room too. But she did make certain that she made a bit of noise outside the door before she entered.
When she walked into the room, Sarah was sitting on her bed, pretending to read a book, though her gaze had been locked on a spot on the wall instead of a page. The paperback was something she’d found on the shelf in the living room.
“Gut book?”
“If you believe an Amish girl might run off to Hollywood and become an actress in a James Bond movie.” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows.
“It’s gut to see you smile. I brought you some tea.”
“Danki.”
“And another letter.”
Sarah nodded but didn’t reach for it. She did add a teaspoon of honey to her cup of tea.
“At home my folks drink coffee,” Sarah said. “I’ve never been much of a tea drinker.”
“I like it.”
“So do I, and Alice says that local honey will help with allergies.”
“You don’t have allergies.”
“True, but if I did it would help.”
Becca sat on her bed, resting her back against the wall and facing Sarah. She realized in that moment that she truly liked the girl across from her.
“I’ve never had a schweschder,” Becca said.
“Or bruder. You’re that rare thing in an Amish community.”
“Indeed I am.”
They both giggled.
“The last week has felt like having a schweschder, though, sharing this room with you. I kind of like it.”
“That’s because urban disaster trailers have plenty of hot water. Otherwise, you’d be glad you’re an only child.”
It was their constant refrain and one of the only negative aspects they brought up about Amish life—though Becca wouldn’t change her simple life for any amount of hot water. Still, it was nice to be able to enjoy a steaming shower or bath anytime she wanted. One of the perks of doing mission work, she supposed.
“You have three little bruders?”
“Four.” Sarah’s voice took on a somber tone.
“How old?”
“Six to Eighteen. Mamm spread us out.”
“I don’t mean to pry, and we don’t have to talk about it, but… what’s with all the letters from home?”
Sarah sipped her tea. She hadn’t yet reached for the most recent letter. Finally, she set her cup back on the tray that Becca had placed on the night table between their beds. Sitting back down, she turned so that her back was against the wall and she was facing Becca. The room was so small that with them both sitting on their bed sideways, their feet nearly touched.
“You’ve met my mamm.”
“Yes.”
“She’s not quite as… put together… as she seems during church.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Instead of answering, Sarah asked, “Do you know about my dat?”
“Know what about him?”
“Then you don’t.” Sarah picked up the book and flipped it over and then over again. “He’s been sick for as long as I can remember.”
Becca couldn’t recall Sarah’s father being sick. In fact, he’d helped at the last barn raising. She didn’t know what to say, so she murmured, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not something we talk about. When he takes his medicine, he’s okay, though a bit sleepy and somewhat distant.”
“And when he doesn’t?”
Sarah reached up and pushed back her blond hair. She’d taken off her kapp because she was in their room. Becca couldn’t help noticing that her hair was always precisely braided. If it became mussed at all, she would quickly take it down and rebraid it. Sometimes she worked the braids so tightly that they pulled the skin taut around her hairline.
“When he doesn’t, then… then there is no telling what will happen. Sometimes he screams and hollers, sometimes he accuses us of poisoning his food and trying to kill him, and other times he weeps.”
“I had no idea.”
“It’s something we don’t talk about except to his doctor and the bishop.”
“Daddi has never mentioned it to me. Isn’t there something he can do?”
“A few times he has intervened. Once he took us somewhere else to spend a few days. And of course he strongly encourages my father to stay on his medication, but no one can force him. After all, he hasn’t done anything illegal yet.”
“We can’t wait for that! Surely something can be done now, before… before things become any worse.”
Sarah met her gaze, her lips trembling and tears shining in her eyes. “I figured you knew. I guess I thought everyone knew, but apparently the Amish grapevine hasn’t spread the word.”
“If it did, I must not be plugged in.” On an urge, Becca stood up and moved over to her friend’s bed and sat beside her so that there was only the book sitting between them. “Is that what the letters are about?”
“My mamm does her best. I suppose the situation has worn her down over the years. Bishop Levi says hard times can make you stronger, but they can also sap your strength and cloud your outlook. For my mamm, I’m afraid it’s the latter.”
“Why does she write you every day?”
Sarah laughed, but there was no merriment in the sound. “Some days she is begging me to come home, asking me how I could dare abandon her. Other days, she is assuring me that I should stay.”
Becca thought of her own parents. Both were a calm, reassuring presence in her life. What would it be like to live with two adults who couldn’t be depended on? Did that make Sarah the mother figure in the family?
Did she carry the full responsibility for her four siblings?
“We never know what will set him off.” Her voice had taken on a soft, faraway tone, reminding Becca of the lonesome train whistles she sometimes heard late at night. “It could be that our hair isn’t braided correctly or his food has grown cold. One moment he might be smiling and telling you how proud of you he is—and then in nearly the same breath he becomes this bitter, angry, unreasonable man that I am sure I cannot be related to.”
Becca reached across the book and twined her fingers with Sarah’s.
“The first day I made myself throw up was after he accused me of being pregnant.” Sarah chewed her bottom lip. “I wasn’t interested in boys at all. This was the summer between seventh and eighth grade. Something in my mind clicked. If he thought I looked pregnant, then I’d assure him I wasn’t. I’d become so thin he would never accuse me again.”
“I remember your being sick, and… going away for a while.”
“The bishop convinced my parents I needed intervention. He arranged transportation to one of the hospitals in Tulsa where they specialize in teens who need better coping techniques.”
“Did it help?”
“I suppose.” Becca stared down at their hands. “I’ve learned when my mother’s emotional traps become too much for me to endure that it’s okay to step back. That’s why I don’t open all of her letters. Once I see that she is lashing out at me instead of dealing directly with my father, I try to create distance. It works better here than at home.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Sarah smiled, gently removed her hand from Becca’s grasp, and tapped the top of the book. “Don’t worry about me. I may one day live in Hollywood and star in a movie about spies.”
Becca laughed with her, though her heart was aching at the revelation Sarah had just shared. She stayed in the room a few more minutes, and then she excused herself and walked down the hall to take a shower.
She’d thought she understood Sarah, that she knew her problems and presumed to think—in her heart of hearts—that Sarah should just “get over it.” How hard was it to eat? Why make such a big, dramatic thing of the process?
Becca had never said those thoughts out loud, but they had occasionally crossed her mind. Now she understood that very few things were as simple as they seemed. Obviously, Sarah was still struggling with her eating disorder, and it was directly related to the situation at home. Where was the escape from that? Did she have any say in what her future would be like?
Would she continue to be buffeted between the two people who were supposed to protect her from the world? Was not eating or throwing up her food Sarah’s way of saying I can control this when I can’t control anything else?
As steam filled the bathroom, Becca prayed for her friend. For healing and peace for Sarah, and for clarity in her own mind and heart.
CHAPTER 42
Charlie stood next to the sixty-five-foot fishing/tour boat and helped the Amish gals board. Sarah’s eyes were serious and taking in everything they could see, but at least a hint of a smile brightened her face. Becca kept close to Sarah and laughed when Quitz nudged her hand.
“I don’t have anything for you to eat, Quitz. Ask Alton.”
For an answer, Alton reached into his pocket and produced the requisite treat. Quitz sat and cocked her head, waiting until Alton offered the dog biscuit.
“Smart girl,” Joshua said.
“She likes to think so.” Charlie winked and turned to help Alice aboard.
“Are you sure there’s room for us?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. Even with all the workers here—”
Frank, Brady, Eva, and Simon were already seated next to where everyone was boarding.
“You’re not taking this excursion without us,” Simon joked.
“Indeed, Simon has been talking about it for days.” Eva poked him in the side with her elbow, and Simon jumped to the side to avoid the jab.
There was a time when Charlie had thought Simon was interested in Becca. Perhaps he’d imagined that as he’d noticed no unusual interaction between them lately.
“Are we ready?” Jim asked. He’d brought up the end of the line, and stood counting heads before he boarded the boat.
“We are. Just assuring Alice and the kids that there’s plenty of room.”
“Of course there is, and we want you to join us. I’ve been asking for weeks. Remember?”
“Come on, Nana.” Shelley pulled on her grandmother’s hand as C.J. hurried aboard ahead of them.
Charlie noticed that the boy headed straight to Alton’s side. There was something about Alton that C.J. liked, that he related to. It was interesting to watch the two of them. It seemed to Charlie that Alton could do with a little hero worship. Perhaps having someone look up to him would help Alton to find his path in life.
The captain of the vessel, whose stage name was Captain Hook, welcomed them aboard. Charlie found a place to sit between Alice and Jim. Shelley whispered something to her grandmother, and then she ran to squeeze between Sarah and Becca.
“Thank you for boarding our vessel. The first thing I want to point out is that a life jacket is located beneath each of your seats. We have calm waters for our trip, but if you’re more comfortable wearing a flotation device, then you’re certainly welcome to get it out now.”
Charlie glanced at Becca, but she hadn’t reached for hers yet. She did glance down at the bin beneath her seat to make sure it was there.
“Our tour this evening will take us out past the St. Jo Island and the Port Aransas jetties. We’ll also see the Lydia Ann Lighthouse, which is still standing even after Orion’s attempts to send her to the bottom of the sea.”
There were a few cheers of “Let’s hear it for Lydia!” and “Lighthouses rule!” It pleased Charlie to see everyone in such good spirits. The weather was fine, and the evening was warm enough that no one needed more than a light jacket. He hoped they would enjoy seeing some of the coast he loved so much.
“Have your cameras ready,” the captain said. “We will likely see bottlenose dolphins, and we should make the lighthouse just as the sun sets.”
“Why is your name Captain Hook?” Alton asked. “Seems to me that you still have both hands.”
C.J. giggled and Shelley slapped her hands over her mouth. Charlie had caught her watching Peter Pan on her grandmother’s tablet just a few weeks ago. No doubt she was thinking of a different Captain Hook.
“I’m so glad you asked.” The captain’s voice grew mysterious. “We’ll be putting the trawl net down so we can pull up a good sampling of the ocean life for you to see. Always be careful, though. I might have both of my hands, but One-Armed Pete wasn’t so lucky.”
Pete waved at them from the end of the boat. He was dressed up as a pirate, with a patch pulled up above his eye, blousy pants, and a white cotton shirt. When he waved his right arm, which ended in a stump, several gasps were heard throughout the crowd.
“Pete will tell you his story when he pulls up the trawl. As for mine?” The captain fingered his right earlobe, from which hung a long, sparkling jewel. “I was caught in the ear with a fish hook, so now I wear this earring as a reminder to be on the lookout for flying objects.”
The captain wished them a good journey and then excused himself to pilot the boat.
They set off at a slow pace, but it was only moments before their guests were oohing and aahing over the dolphins as they leaped out of the water. They seemed to keep pace with the boat. One jumped high and then flipped over before splashing down. Charlie was reminded of the time he and Madelyn had gone to SeaWorld together. He glanced across the boat and noticed Becca step away from the others and write something in a small journal she carried.
“It’s for her mother,” Alice explained. “She’s an artist. She paints and draws cards and small landscapes.”
“Sounds unusual for an Amish woman.”
“Perhaps. Becca is determined to write down every possibl
e detail of what she’s seeing so her mother can use the information for a new line of cards that has to do with MDS.”
Charlie shook his head. “I’ll admit I didn’t know much about the Amish before this group arrived. Mennonite, sure. They have been helping us practically since the day Orion landed.”
“They’ve all been a real blessing.”
“Indeed they have, but this group has opened up my eyes to some things.”
“Such as?” Alice smiled at him, swiping at the strands of gray hair that had escaped the baseball cap she wore.
“Oh, I don’t know. Young love.” He threw a pointed glance toward Joshua, who was watching Becca write in her journal.
“I’d noticed that.”
“Also how a community can have a hand in raising a child.” He nodded toward Shelley.
“She adores Sarah and Becca.”
“And that God brings people into our lives for a reason.”
C.J. was laughing, using his grandmother’s phone to take a photo of Alton, who was hamming it up and pointing toward a dolphin. Although Nancy, Joshua, Becca, and Sarah usually avoided the camera, Alton seemed to have no qualms about having his picture taken. Becca had explained to Charlie that the rules were a bit more lax when they were enjoying a vacation or trip away.
“Though pride is always to be discouraged,” she had hastened to add. “We wouldn’t carry photos of ourselves around in our wallet.”
He was learning that the Amish understanding of living a simple life extended to nearly everything they did.
“I’ll agree God brought every person on this boat into our lives for a reason,” Alice said. “I’m so glad you recommended my name for the MDS program.”
“Now, don’t give Charlie all the credit.” Jim finished taking pictures for the Mennonite group. He handed the camera back to Eva and plopped down on the other side of Alice. “Surely my wonderful analytical skills would have pulled your name from the pile even without Charlie’s input.”
“You’re an analyst?” Charlie scratched his head. “I always thought you were just some construction guy who had stumbled onto the island and needed a job.”
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