by Gayle Roper
“Sit,” he said. “We need to talk.”
He looked cool and unflappable while my stomach was doing loop-de-loops about my insides, churning up enough acid to etch a whole collection of questionable engravings. I dried my damp palms on my thighs and sat. I was immediately distracted by how comfortable the couch was even if it was so deep that I couldn’t sit back and still have my feet touch the floor. I perched on the edge and gave Jake my attention.
“Rose, I owe you an apology too,” he began earnestly. “I was unconscionably rude this morning.”
I nodded. I wasn’t going to be quite the easy mark his mother was. “You were.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” There was that earnest stare, softening me just as I had known it would.
A touch of pride stiffened my backbone before total meltdown and enabled me to ask, “What makes you think you hurt me?”
“I saw you and Hawk standing there as I drove away.” He smiled gently. “I’ve rarely seen a more dejected looking pair.”
“That’ll teach me to hang around after a confrontation,” I muttered, feeling as exposed as the emperor when he found out the secret of his new clothes.
Jake cleared his throat, and suddenly he became very nervous. I watched him with interest and apprehension, wondering what in the world was coming next.
“I was struggling with some things,” he said, “and I didn’t know how to come to terms with them, so I took my frustration out on you and Mom.”
“Nothing excuses hurting people, Jake.” I sounded so pompous that I shuddered, but I was right. I lifted my chin and looked steadily at him.
He looked pained and a bit peeved. “I know. I said I was sorry.”
After a beat I said graciously, “Apology accepted.” I nodded my head in a dignified and queenly manner.
Then I made the mistake of leaning back on the sofa.
I found myself almost lying down, the thing was so deep. So much for grace and dignity. I struggled upright, trying to look casual, like sprawling awkwardly was my intended purpose. It was bad enough having to force a collected manner when my insides were rioting with nerves. When my outsides fell on their faces too, it was an uphill battle.
I glanced at Jake just in time to see him swallow a smile at my turtle on its back flailings. I flushed.
“And I presume that now you’ve come to terms with these issues that were bothering you?” I asked as composedly as I could manage.
He shrugged. “I guess. At least as much as I can come to terms with them.”
“But what happened between last night and this morning to make you so distressed?” Tell me, please. I want to understand.
He took a deep breath while he debated with himself. He was sitting facing me, his hands resting on his knees. I reached out and touched a hand.
“Tell me. Maybe I can help. Isn’t that what friends are for?”
He turned his hand over and held mine. He stared at their joining for a minute.
“You see, there’s this girl.”
I swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that had suddenly risen in my throat. “A girl?” There’s a girl?
He nodded, still studying our hands.
“And you like her?” I was amazed I could still speak.
“I think I love her.”
“What?” But what about me? You called me Tiger!
“My accident last night reminded me in crystal clarity that I can’t love a woman, any woman, especially this woman.”
“Nonsense,” I said, amazed that a cottonmouth could still form words. “Of course you can love.” Just not her!
“Easy for you to say.” His tone was acerbic. His thumb ran back and forth over my knuckles. “Last night I had a dream. No, make that a nightmare. I was with this girl, and she was in terrible trouble, and I couldn’t help her. She was running and screaming and someone was chasing her, and I could only sit and watch. I yelled at the man, I swore at the man, I asked God to strike the man dead. But I couldn’t help her.” He said the words slowly, his teeth clenched with the intensity of his feelings. “I watched as the man grabbed her. She looked at me, pleading for my help. Then she was dead on the floor, the man was gone, and I was still in my chair screaming.”
I slid forward on the sofa until my knees were against his. “Jake, it was only a dream.”
“I woke up in a cold sweat,” he said, his eyes staring at some middle distance, seeing himself in the dream, feeling the agony and helplessness all over again. “And I realized two things. I had never dreamed about myself in a wheelchair before. I always dreamed about myself as I’d been my whole life, running, walking, riding my cycle. Last night I saw myself as I am: a man chained to a chair.”
He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of sheer frustration. He looked at me, his eyes bleak. “Which brings me to the second thing I realized.” His hand gripped mine so hard it hurt. “I can’t love this girl, and I can’t let her love me.”
Suddenly I couldn’t breathe because I knew as clearly as if he’d said my name that he was talking about me and how he felt about me. Our gaze held as he stared at me in utter desolation and I stared back in unabashed wonder.
Jake thought he loved me!
I looked away first, mainly because I had to start breathing again or I’d pass out from oxygen deprivation. I took a couple of deep breaths and told myself to be calm.
“You’re saying you can’t love m—this girl because you’re a paraplegic?”
He nodded, back to studying our clasped hands. His thumb still rubbed softly across my knuckles, a soothing and wonderfully possessive thing.
“But what does she think, Jake? Doesn’t she get to make a choice here?”
He looked up immediately and with a fierce glare practically shouted, “No!”
I jumped in surprise. I reached for his other hand. “Jake, do you think that’s fair to her?”
“Anything else is unfair.” His stare was uncompromising.
I nodded as I heard a knock on the door between Jake’s rooms and the main house.
Elam stuck his head around the corner. “Mom says it’s time for supper.”
I took one last look at our clasped hands, then released him and stood. “I guess she’ll have to pray a lot, won’t she?”
Chapter 9
Jake and I went to the kitchen and took our places at the table. John bowed his head and the rest of us followed suit. I peeked at one point, glancing over at Jake, still bemused by the knowledge that he loved me. That’s when I noticed Elam.
He sat with his eyes focused on Esther’s bent head. His face was impassive, and I wondered what he was thinking, feeling. After all that time wasted mooning over Mary Clare, was he realizing that he loved Esther? Now that she was leaving, did he realize what he was losing? Romantic that I was, I hoped so.
For her part, Esther kept her head bowed long after the rest of us had begun passing food. When she finally looked up, her eyes were bright with tears and her expression full of sadness. When I caught her eye, I smiled gently and winked. She smiled wanly back.
She would not look at Elam.
I knew I would miss Esther immensely. She had been at the farm from before my first visit. She was part of the family to me, sort of a surrogate daughter to Mary and John. When their daughter Ruth married and moved with her Isaiah to their farm near Honey Brook, Mary had missed her tremendously. Esther had helped alleviate the loneliness.
I sighed. If I felt so strongly about her leaving, I could only imagine how the others were feeling.
After dinner things were no livelier. Jake announced he had to study and left us immediately. Esther went to her room as soon as she and I finished the after-supper cleanup. Elam sat in his chair in the living room, one hand absently gripping his suspender, and stared into space.
I went up to my rooms to get away from all the gloom. I sat in one of the overstuffed chairs with my legs hanging over the arm and thought about my conversation with Jake. What were
the ramifications of his declaration? I can’t love this girl and I can’t let her love me…Anything else is unfair.
Jake was a strong man, a dynamic man whose legs happened not to work anymore. He was by turns passionate and caring and gentle and nasty and opinionated. He had learned to function in spite of his losses though he insisted on going at his own pace. He had stepped beyond the scope of his family’s heritage to find a way of life that suited him, first as a rebel and now as a student. He was a man not easily dissuaded when he reached a conclusion, and he knew how to stand on his convictions in the face of loving opposition.
I pictured our hands clasped as he told me he wouldn’t love me. I pictured him holding me the night Sophie and Ammon died. I pictured him laughing with me over Allie’s secondhand ring.
I heard him say, “You’re good for me, you know that?
I heard him say, “You’re my favorite Tiger.”
I heard again, “I can’t love this girl and I can’t let her love me.”
Then I heard, “I can’t believe God can forgive me.”
And that conviction of his was a much greater problem to me than his legs ever would be. It was a problem that could keep us apart forever, love notwithstanding. No matter how much I might love Jake, I couldn’t marry him if he remained an unbeliever. Even if he overcame his noble idea of sparing me because he was unfit, I couldn’t marry him.
Suddenly I felt as depressed as everyone else in the house.
I was enjoying a good sulk when my cell phone rang.
“This is Davy Stoltzfus,” a man’s voice told me.
“Hello! I’m so glad to hear from you. I’m Rose Martin. I live at the Zooks, next door to your parents’ farm.”
“Ah. I was wondering who I was calling.”
I laughed. “I can imagine. I rent a small apartment from Jake,” I explained.
“Remind me to ask about him in a minute, but first, how’s my mother?”
“She seems to be doing well. I haven’t seen her, but I’ve spoken with Becky a couple of times. If anything were wrong with Annie, she would have told me.”
“What’s Becky doing in Bird-in-Hand? Has her family moved back to Pennsylvania? Ma mentioned in a letter that she was staying with them, but she never said why.”
So Annie was writing to Davy behind Old Nate’s back—and the bishop’s too. “She’s here having a baby.” I paused. “She’s not married.”
“And my father let her stay with them?”
I could hear his surprise. And no wonder, after the way Old Nate had treated him.
“I think he felt he had no option. Your sister apparently felt she would taint the younger kids and sent her here.”
“Poor Becky.” There was genuine pity in his voice.
“Don’t worry about Becky,” I said. “She’s doing fine. She’ll leave here and marry her Samuel if she has anything to say about it.”
“Have you met this guy? Is he nice?”
“He’s in Ohio, so I’ve never seen him. He’s meidung.”
There was a minute of silence as he took that in. “Is Becky under the ban too?” he finally asked.
“Apparently she hadn’t joined the church yet. Besides, she confessed before the congregation.”
He laughed shortly. “I remember when they wanted me to do that. I wouldn’t.”
“I sort of guessed that,” I said. After all, he was still racing.
“Look, will you tell my mother that Lauren and I will be there Wednesday morning? We’re arriving in Harrisburg tomorrow, and we’ll spend the night there. We don’t want to be present during the burial. It might be too distressing to her, dealing with my father’s death, her friends, and Lauren and me, all at the same time.”
Just how long was a person shunned, I wondered. Forever, even when it was obvious he’d never return to the community?
“Sure, I’ll tell her. I know your sister and family are due this evening. They’re coming by bus as far as Harrisburg, then taxi. It’ll be the first time they’ve seen Becky’s baby. She’s nervous.”
“I don’t think she has to worry,” Davy said. “Rachel’s strict but not cruel. And she’s always loved babies.”
“Well, this little guy needs her love. He’s not well, Davy.”
“What do you mean, not well?”
“He’s going to die.”
I heard a sigh of distress. “How’s Becky with this?”
“Amazing. She knows and is prepared. She’s got a real strong faith, and I mean in God, not the Ordnung. But it’ll be hard. She loves Trevor fiercely.”
“Trevor? She named him Trevor?” Amazement and disbelief zinged in my ear.
“She’s about to jump the fence, Davy. She can’t wait to wear lipstick.” I laughed. “And there’s Samuel waiting for her when she does.”
“Speaking of jumping the fences, how’s Jake?”
I smiled to myself, warmed by the thought of him. “He’s fine. He’s taking a full course load at Millersville this semester and loving it.”
“When Ma told me about his accident, I was so upset. We were best friends for years.”
“Stop by while you’re here. He’ll want to see you. His apartment is the first floor of the grossdawdy haus. I’m on the second.”
After promising to visit, Davy rang off. I felt better after talking with him. There was no concrete reason I should, but I did. I pulled out my Bible and turned to Psalm 66. It was a favorite of mine.
Let the whole world bless our God and sing aloud his praises.
Our lives are in his hands, and he keeps our feet from stumbling.
You have tested us, O God; you have purified us like silver.
You captured us in your net and laid the burden of slavery on our backs.
Then you put a leader over us. We went through fire and flood.
But you brought us to a place of great abundance.
Many times when I felt overwhelmed with guilt about Dad and Rhoda or some other more mundane problem in life, I went to these verses. They acknowledged that God was God, life was sometimes difficult, but he always brought us through. I buried my face in my hands and began to pray.
Oh, Father God, I feel like an emotional yo-yo. I love Jake. I do. And he loves me whether he’ll ever admit it to me or not—and please, Lord, let him admit it!
I could break into a cold sweat at the thought of his never acknowledging his love for me.
But he doesn’t know You yet, Lord. Help him understand that You forgive freely. That’s the only way he’ll find that place of great abundance You promised.
When I glanced at the clock, I saw it was time for the news. I turned on WGAL and watched a report on Sophie and Ammon’s double funeral. I saw Peter entering and leaving the church, his sunglasses firmly in place to hide his eyes, no doubt red-rimmed. My heart broke for him, alone and under attack, his life in jeopardy.
The last item in the report was a clip of a short, slight man giving the eulogy. I wondered who he was when his name flashed across the bottom of the TV screen.
Ernest Hostetter.
I stared at the man. This was Evil Ernie? He looked like someone a gentle spring breeze could blow away, not someone who would blow away his family for the sake of little cars.
But then what did a man’s appearance have to do with the evil that lurked in his heart?
Why did you go after me, Ernie? I silently asked his image. What did I ever do to hurt you? How can I possibly be a threat? How could I possibly dissuade you or stop you from doing more harm? And how long will it take for Lem and the others to get rock-solid evidence against you?
When I finally went to bed, I expected to toss and turn all night, but my time with the Lord gave me an ease of heart that allowed me to sleep the night through.
I was in the kitchen having a second cup of tea when Becky arrived with Trevor Tuesday morning. I rose to take him, but Esther beat me to it. She took him from Becky and held him close.
Becky looked at Trevor with dou
btful eyes. The funeral would be the first time she had ever been away from him, and she was having second thoughts.
“Go, Becky,” I said. “Trevor will be fine. When I can pry him out of Esther’s arms, I’ll take good care of him for you. I promise.”
Becky smiled. “I couldn’t leave him with anyone else.” She bent and kissed him goodbye.
“Oh,” she said, pausing at the door. “My mother and father arrived last evening.”
“Tell your grandmother that Davy and Lauren will be here tomorrow,” I said. “He called last night.”
She smiled broadly. “Grandmother Annie will be so glad!”
I glanced around to see if anyone was listening. Only Esther was near and she appeared absorbed with Trevor. I moved closer to Becky and whispered, “Annie’s been writing to Davy and Lauren.”
Becky grinned widely. “Good for her.”
I agreed. I could see no reason for her to lose her son forever over a difference in beliefs. If the shunning had served its intended purpose, Davy would have returned to the church. Since he hadn’t and never would, the time of shunning should cease. It separated families and caused great hurt.
Becky reached for the door again just as Elam opened it and came into the room from the barn where he and John had been harnessing the horse to the buggy. They were treating this morning with the funeral service much like they would treat Sunday as far as workload went. They were only doing what was absolutely essential, things like milking and feeding the stock.
I thought Elam looked quite handsome in his black, split-tailed frock coat with its hooks and eyes, appropriate dress for Sundays and special events. His white shirt was buttoned to the collar, and his cleanly shaven face glowed with the ruddy health of a man who spent most of his time outdoors.