The Amish Secret Wish

by Laura V. Hilton

  He found Ted’s toolbox on the workbench in the corner of the tack room and dug through it for things he might need to replace the wheel; then he leaned the wheel nearby and started to jack the buggy up with an antique wagon jack.

  “I saw the bird. We all did.” Bishop Nathan’s voice came unexpectedly from behind Kiah. “Except possibly George.”

  Kiah let go of the handle and spun around. “Danki for the complimentary heart attack.”

  Though really he had expected the bishop to search him out. He just hadn’t expected him to abandon his pie to do so.

  The bishop chuckled. “At least your folks believe you now.”

  That was a plus.

  Kiah turned his attention back to the buggy and the jack. He might not know much about buggy repair, but he did know how to replace wheels and tighten bolts. “What did you need to discuss with me?” Best get this scolding or lecture—whichever it will be—out of the way.

  “Why exactly are you looking for the scribe? I want the whole story.”

  Hadn’t he gone over this at the bishop’s house at noon? He couldn’t remember for sure what was said. “Well, it all started with a girl.”

  The bishop made a noise that might’ve been a snort. “All terrible stories do.”

  What? Kiah glanced over his shoulder at the bishop.

  Bishop Nathan raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

  “My girlfriend stepped out on me when I was ‘chasing storms,’ her words, in Illinois. Really, I was here to help with cleanup.”

  “I remember why you were here.” The bishop knelt beside him and riffled through the toolbox as Kiah fitted the wheel back onto the buggy.

  “Can you find a roller axle in there? Please. Oh, and I need a clip, too.”

  “Sure. When did you meet Hallie?”

  “I met Hallie at her boyfriend’s funeral. We didn’t talk much, but I remember her. My heart connected. I imagined she was the scribe and started writing to her—the scribe—after the storm.”

  “Hmmm. And you still think she’s the scribe?” The bishop handed him a few roller axles and a clip. “You said your heart recognized her?”

  So he’d told Bishop Nathan he thought the scribe was Hallie. His face heated. “Jah, I honestly believed Hallie was the scribe. I wanted her to be. I connect with her somehow. But then Anna recognized my name. She took the notes I’d seen in their room when I delivered the laundry for their mammi. She had a purple pen.” But then so did Hallie. “Anna’s initials are GHB.”

  “Purple pens are popular in this house.”

  “Jah. Very.” Kiah finished installing the old wagon wheel, which thankfully wasn’t damaged. At least not that he could see.

  “So are you here for Hallie or Anna?” A hardness appeared in the bishop’s voice.

  Kiah straightened. “I don’t know.” He didn’t know, but he needed to be honest. He found a beat-up flashlight in the toolbox. It worked, so he took it and shimmied under the jacked-up buggy.

  “Explain yourself.” The hardness was still present in the bishop’s tone.

  “I’ll try.” Kiah attempted to formulate his thoughts. “Like I said, my heart connected with Hallie both then and now. But then it connected with the scribe in the letters. I came here for Anna—for the scribe—so I need to give her a chance, but I also want to keep the door wide open with Hallie. I don’t want to pit them against each other, but in case Anna and I don’t connect like Hallie and I do…Well, I’d like to keep that door open.”

  “That will be difficult to do. Not like you can keep them secret from each other,” Bishop Nathan said. “Of course, I would discourage that if you could.”

  “I wouldn’t think of trying. I intend to be completely honest with both of them.” Kiah flashed the light over the undercarriage, but he didn’t see any problems other than a loose bolt or two. Not that he’d recognize many. He tightened the bolts.

  “You do realize they are sisters and you could cause problems with their relationship with each other. This has the potential of going very badly with this whole family.”

  “The story of my life.” Kiah frowned and slid out from under the buggy. He turned the flashlight off and returned it to the toolbox. He sat cross-legged across the metal box from the bishop. “I dream big, put my heart into something, and it turns into sawdust in my hands. Like with my ex-girlfriend. I designed and built a tiny house for her because she said she wanted one when we married. But then she hated it, so I put it up for sale, but that doesn’t matter. The point is, I already messed up so much here in less than twenty-four hours. I’m just tired, you know? Tired of figuring out how to get back up and keep going.”

  “When it seems there is nothing left, there is still hope,” the bishop said.

  Kiah didn’t know how much hope there was. Probably not a whole lot. But he didn’t want to disagree with the bishop.

  He could look for the silver lining in the cloud now, he guessed. “To be even more honest, Hallie and I took a walk this morning at the park on the trail. We talked about so many different things. And she answered every question the way the scribe did. Every single one. What do you make of that?”

  Bishop Nathan made a noncommittal grunt.

  Kiah puffed out a breath. Okay. Looking at the bright side…

  The woodpecker was still there but at least the buggy was fixed and the horse didn’t seem worse for wear. Now, how could he fix things for Mildred and George? George who believed Kiah was worse than a mess-up and also illiterate. How was he supposed to fix that?

  “George thinks I can’t read or write.” Jah, he was grumbling.

  The bishop blinked. Kiah supposed that was a bit random.

  “Always listen to the opinion of others. It might not do you any good, but it will them.”

  Kiah frowned. “So I need to pretend to be illiterate?” The bishop was encouraging him to lie?

  “No. But you need to show up for your lesson. It might do you a world of good. And get the school’s ant farm for him. Every time you break your word, you put a crack in your character.”

  He had promised to replace George’s ants. Kiah glanced around and spied a cat stalking a mouse. And he’d promised to replace his cats. If either was even possible. “How many cats did George have anyway? What was the teacher’s name and where is the schoolhouse?”

  “Ginny Baer. But the school is closed on weekends. You’ll need to go Monday on the way to George’s. I’ll draw you a map.” Bishop Nathan puffed out a breath. “As for cats, I’m not sure George even knows how many there are. Were. I’d say too many, but he collects all the strays and unwanted litters and gives them homes, which is commendable. Of course, they procreate…But I digress.”

  “Commendable, jah, but there are still too many,” Kiah said. Their house stunk.

  “As for why I came out here, I need you to walk down to the corner Amish grocery. It’s more of a bent-and-dent type of establishment, so you never know what they’ll have. But anyway, George is demanding vanilla ice cream, and Joy said something about Hallie needing a whole pint of chocolate ice cream, but that seems a bit excessive. Anyway, I was thinking one of those cartons with three flavors, but they may not have it. Just whatever they have is fine.” He pulled a crumpled ten-dollar bill from his pocket. “Here’s some money to pay for it. Turn left at the mailbox and walk about an eighth of a mile. You could bike if you wanted”—he glanced at the purple girls’ bike, then the bicycle built for two—“though maybe not. It’s located at the mailbox that looks like someone played softball with it. Name on the box is Zook. The store is not marked, but it’s located in the shed. There’s a red hitching post outside the front door.”

  Right. Kiah had noticed that mailbox on his way to town that morning. And an eighth of a mile was nothing to an Amish man. But the bishop would buy ice cream to placate George? Or was this an attempt to get Kiah off the premises for some reason? Maybe to discuss his many shortcomings with both his parents and Hallie’s daed? As if Kiah hadn’t
made those abundantly clear on his own.

  “As for Anna and Hallie, I suggest you choose one or the other to focus on. Whichever one you choose will destroy any chances with the other, so take your time, pray much, and choose wisely. Love is a wonderful thing, but it gets along best when it has brains to direct it.”

  Kiah frowned. Was that another thinly veiled insult? But that reminded him…“The Bible says, ‘He shall direct thy paths.’ How do I know when He is directing my path? It’s not like He comes down from Heaven, points, and says, ‘This is the way, walk ye in it.’”

  Bishop Nathan surveyed him for a long, silent minute before he cleared his throat. Twice. “Actually, it says, ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.’ Are you trusting Gott with your whole heart and acknowledging Him in all your ways?”

  “Honestly, probably not.”

  Another long silence. Then the bishop nodded. “There you go. When you do, He will. But it won’t be with a bright neon light blinking an arrow like with some road construction signs. It will be more of a still, quiet voice that you’ll need to listen for.”

  Well. That was helpful. Not. Kiah rose to his feet. “I’ll get the ice cream, then. Right at the mailbox?”

  “No. Left. Eighth of a mile. Zooks’. Red hitching post. But before you go, help me up. I’m not as young as I used to be.” The bishop extended his arm.

  Kiah grasped the bishop’s hand and, when he had his feet positioned, gave him a tug.

  “Danki,” Bishop Nathan said. “One would think I’m an old man. I’m not. Only fifty-three. But my knees are giving out.” He chuckled. “But then again, I’m double your age.”

  More than doubled by slightly less than a decade, but Kiah just gave him what probably was a sick-looking grin and a tiny nod. “I’ll just go get that ice cream. Is one carton enough for everyone?”

  The bishop wrinkled his nose as his brow furrowed. “Maybe two. The kind with chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla, if they have it. If not, whatever they have.” He repeated himself there. “Go on now.”

  Kiah nodded and started the hike, thankfully without a woodpecker tagging along. Basically, vanilla for George and chocolate for Hallie. Everyone carried those flavors, even if they didn’t have the three flavors together. And if Hallie needed a pint for herself, he’d get it for her with his own money even if it was a bit excessive. Her happiness was important to him.

  That probably said volumes about which sister he should pursue, but if Anna was the one he came for—though it didn’t seem likely—then it seemed wrong to throw her over for her sister. Especially if the sole reason for wanting to please Hallie came from a simple desire to erase the lingering sadness in her eyes. Or that was what he sort of told himself. Sadness he understood, because he mourned for two weeks when he and his girlfriend Molly broke up. Although, truthfully, the grief might’ve had more to do with his best friend Zeke marrying and moving away than the breakup, especially since Molly had stepped out on him.

  Whichever the case, two weeks later, he’d realized that life goes on. And he needed to move on with it. So he did. With the unattainable, aloof Hallie that he’d met at her boyfriend’s funeral replacing his unfaithful girlfriend in his mind’s eye, and even more so when he started writing the scribe. Befriending the scribe. Falling in love with the scribe.

  The scribe was Hallie. She had to be.

  Except maybe she wasn’t.

  His brain had considerable trouble accepting that. His heart flat-out refused to try.

  And that also spoke volumes about which sister he should pursue.

  But he told everyone he was here to find and court the scribe. And if he didn’t, he’d be a liar. So he had to at least make an effort. Or at least make sure the scribe truly wasn’t the flirting mammi inside like Joy seemed to think. Might not be a bad idea to grab on to some extra confirmation that Anna was the scribe before he got in too deep with her and burned bridges he wished to cross later. Or rather prove that Anna was not the scribe while developing his friendship with Hallie. That would mean following the bishop’s advice to wait and pray while also keeping Aaron—and Hallie—happy by not playing both sisters. And somehow it might keep the door wide open with Hallie.

  He stopped as he arrived at a badly dented, misshapen, beat-up mailbox. It did look like it had been used for how-to-swing-a-baseball-bat practice. The name on the box in gray stick-on letters was ZOOK. And there was a red hitching post outside the shed. A horse was tied to it. And a crooked sign on the doorknob read OPEN.

  Kiah stuck his hand into his pocket to verify he still had the crumpled ten-dollar bill; then he went inside. An unmarried Amish man picked up two bags of groceries and turned toward the door. Kiah scanned the cluttered shelves and turned toward the man. “I’m looking for ice cream.”

  The man jerked his head toward the left. “It’s in a cooler in the other room. Be warned. They have weird flavors such as bubble gum ice cream and birthday cake ice cream.”

  “I just need chocolate and vanilla,” Kiah said, and he headed down a store aisle.

  “Good luck with that,” the man said. The door clanged shut behind him.

  Moments later, Kiah stared down into the white cooler. There was nothing even vaguely resembling normal. He thumped a carton. “Dill pickle ice cream? Really?”

  “Seventy-five percent off,” a young Amish woman chirped as she walked past. Her dress was slightly darker than dill pickles.

  “Danki, but I’ll pass.”

  “You and everyone else.” She tilted her head and surveyed Kiah. “I saw you at the restaurant. You came to see Hallie. I’m Mandy. I’m a sister of one of her best friends.”

  “Jah. Nice to meet you. I’m Kiah Esh, from Indiana. I’m here for the weekend at least, maybe a little longer.” Kiah thumped the carton again. “The bishop sent me for chocolate and vanilla.”

  “I suggest pudding. We have sugar free.” She made a slight face and pointed to a row of off-brand instant pudding.

  Kiah surveyed it. “My mamm can make it from scratch.” But it wouldn’t be sugar free. Did that matter?

  Mandy rolled her eyes. “Any self-respecting Amish woman can. The question is: will she want to this late on a Saturday evening?”

  Oh. There was that. Kiah rubbed his chin. It felt a bit prickly. “I don’t know. The bishop specifically said ice cream.” He glanced at the dill pickle flavor and grimaced. “But I don’t think he expected that.”

  “Well, since the bishop is involved…” Mandy leaned close enough he could smell something floral and lowered her voice. “We have some other kinds in the back. They won’t be seventy-five percent off, though.”

  Kiah brightened. “Sold!”

  “And you have to promise not to tell. My boss likely will fire me and I just got hired today after the restaurant fired me. The boss really wants the dill pickle ice cream gone.”

  “I promise. But won’t he find out when I pay?”

  Mandy frowned. “Maybe if you buy a carton of dill pickle ice cream, he won’t mind so much.”

  Um, no. “Bishop Nathan asked for chocolate, vanilla, and straw—”

  “We have eggnog, birthday cake, and fudge mint.” She swung around to go back where she came from.

  “I hope he’s prepared to be disappointed. Eggnog and fudge mint are at least the right colors. And fudge mint actually sounds good.”

  She turned around long enough to make a gag face.

  Okay. That didn’t seem promising. Kiah watched her go. She was a terrible salesperson. But that aside, only he could fail at ice-cream shopping.

  * * *

  Hallie shifted the ice pack on her still-throbbing ankle. Daed would probably ask Mamm to look at it when she got home since a midwife was also called upon for a wide variety of medical needs. In most cases, the Amish trusted a little-trained member of their own community more than they did a highly trained Englisch doctor.
Another reason why she hesitated to follow Mamm and Anna into midwifery. She didn’t want to be responsible for the accidental death of someone who might’ve lived if they’d gone to a professional.

  And Anna called her selfish.

  She made a tiny snort, then turned her attention to her red, swollen ankle. Picking up the ice pack, she made a tiny, cautious flex of her foot and almost howled from the pain. Hopefully it was only a sprain and not a break.

  “Hezekiah Esh.” Bishop Nathan appeared beside the bed.

  Hallie quickly dropped the ice pack back into position and yanked the fuzzy blanket over her legs. Neither the bishop nor Kiah should see her ankles. She flopped back against the pillow and glanced up, expecting to see Kiah sitting on the chair he’d abandoned. Instead, only the bishop was in the room and looming over her.

  Her face heated and she directed her gaze back toward the blanket. “He’s fixing the buggy, I think.”

  “No. He finished, and seemed to know what he was doing, though I’m not sure how well he did,” the bishop said as he shrugged. “I’m not a buggy repairman. He went to the store for ice cream.”

  She blinked. “For George?” Since he was still yelling in the other room.

  “Mostly for you.”

  What? She peeked back up. “I didn’t ask for ice cream.”

  “Joy did on your behalf. A pint of chocolate, she said.” He chuckled. “I sent him to Zooks’ Salvage Grocery, but I cringe to think what he returns with.”

  Jah, Zooks’ didn’t have normal ice cream on a regular basis. Actually, she’d never seen any of the popular flavors there. Last time she was there they had a truckload sale of dill pickle ice cream. She giggled.

  The bishop sat in the chair Kiah had abandoned. “I haven’t seen you with this much life in your eyes for over a year.”

  Eighteen months, to be precise. Since before Toby died because he’d started to micromanage her. His will only. She’d shared that with Kiah in a letter, not using any names, of course. Kiah had advised the highway option—whatever that meant. She’d gotten the letter explaining it after Toby’s death. Hallie pursed her lips and picked at the blanket. “Nothing will come of it,” she mumbled.