A warm breeze eased its way under the eaves of the porch, and Leona sighed.
“Mail’s here,” Mom said, waving a stack of envelopes as she stepped onto the porch.
Cinnamon wagged her tail and let out a woof.
“Anything interesting today?” Leona asked.
“Looks like more letters from your pupils.” Mom smiled and took a seat beside Leona. “Seems they’re really missin’ you, jah?”
Leona nodded and blinked back stinging tears that threatened to spill over. She’d been weepy ever since Ezra’s death. “Will you read the letters to me?” she asked, knowing she couldn’t see well enough to read them without her glasses.
“Of course.” Mom opened the first one and announced that it was from Emanuel Lapp.
Dear Teacher Leona,
I’m sorry about the ball hitting you in the face. Maybe my brother will bring me by to see how you’re doin’ on Sunday since it’s an off-week and there won’t be any preaching.
“It wasn’t Emanuel’s fault I didn’t have enough sense to keep my eye on the ball. I should have called the kinner in from recess instead of trying to join their game of baseball.”
“Accidents have a way of happening when we least expect them. We can’t stop living for fear that something bad will happen.” Mom reached over and patted Leona’s arm.
Cinnamon added her agreement by placing one huge, red paw in Leona’s lap.
Leona groaned. “My accident was one that could have been avoided if I hadn’t been so eager to join the game.”
A horse and open buggy rolled into the yard just then, interrupting their conversation and causing Cinnamon to bark. The driver pulled up beside the barn, jumped down, and secured his horse to the hitching post. Then he sprinted for the house.
Even without clear vision, Leona could see that it was Abner Lapp, Emanuel’s older brother. Abner worked at a furniture shop in Strasburg and had been overseeing his young sibling ever since their daed had been killed in a buggy accident last winter.
“Wie geht’s, Leona?” Abner’s heavy black boots clunked noisily over the wooden planks as he stepped onto the porch. “I was on my way home from work and decided to stop and see how you’re doing. I’d meant to do it sooner, but I’ve been workin’ a lot of overtime lately.”
Cinnamon released a throaty growl, and Leona laid a firm hand on the dog’s head to let her know everything was okay. “I’m feeling a little better, although I still don’t have my glasses and my nose is pretty swollen yet.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Abner shied away from Cinnamon and took a seat in the chair beside Leona. He studied her so intently that she felt like a horse being inspected on auction day. “You’re right about your naas being swollen. Looks awful painful to me.”
Leona nodded, and when Cinnamon let out another little woof, she leaned down to pat the dog’s silky head. “It’s okay, girl.”
Abner glanced over at Leona’s mamm, and when he smiled, the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight slant. “How’re things with you, Lydia?”
“Can’t complain.” She stood and smoothed the wrinkles in her dark green dress. “I think I’ll take this mail inside and get something cold to drink. Would either of you like a glass of iced tea?”
“That sounds good to me,” Abner was quick to respond. “It’s a warm day, and somethin’ cold would feel mighty good on my parched tongue.”
“All right then.” The screen door squeaked as Mom stepped into the house. Cinnamon released a grunt and flopped onto the porch beneath Leona’s feet.
Abner removed his straw hat and placed it over one knee. Then he lifted his hand to run long fingers through the back of his thick brown hair. “I feel real bad about my brother hittin’ you in the naas. Was he foolin’ around with the ball? ’Cause if he was, then I’ll see that he’s punished.”
“Nee. He wasn’t fooling around. I just wasn’t paying close enough attention, that’s all.”
“That’s good to hear. I mean, the part about Emanuel not foolin’ around.” Abner’s clear blue eyes clouded over as he slowly shook his head. “Ever since Pop died, Emanuel’s sure been a handful.”
Leona nodded. “His grades were down for a while, too, but he’s been doing better lately.”
“I’m glad of that.”
They sat in silence, Leona rocking back and forth in the swing, and Abner fanning his face with the brim of his hat and tapping his boot in rhythm with each forward motion of the swing. “You—uh—think you’ll be goin’ back to teaching soon?” he finally asked.
Leona touched the bridge of her nose and cringed when her fingers made contact with the tender, bruised flesh. “Well, I’m hoping—” She let her words trail when her mamm stepped onto the porch with two glasses of iced tea.
“Here you go.” Leona’s mamm handed one to Abner and one to Leona, then turned back toward the house.
Leona wished Mom would stay on the porch. Being alone with Abner, or any single man, made her feel about as comfortable as a hen setting on a pile of rocks. She hoped he would gulp down his tea and head for home soon.
“You done messing with pictures?” Jim asked when Jimmy entered the living room.
“Yeah. For now, anyway.”
Jim yawned. They’d gotten off work early this afternoon, thanks to an unexpected rainstorm that had wreaked havoc with the outside paint job they’d been doing on the Save-U-More grocery store. He and Jimmy had eaten a late lunch, and while Jim spent the rest of the afternoon reclining on the couch with a bag of pretzels and a couple bottles of beer, Jimmy had hidden out in his darkroom downstairs. It made no sense that the kid would want to mess around with an antiquated camera and a bunch of chemicals to develop pictures when he could snap some decent-looking shots with a digital camera and print them off on his computer.
Jimmy took a seat in the rocking chair across from Jim. It had been Linda’s favorite chair, and Jim remembered all the nights she had rocked Jimmy to sleep when he was little.
His heart twisted as he thought about the lullabies she used to sing to their son. When he closed his eyes, he could almost smell her rose-scented perfume and feel the softness of her long blond hair between his fingers. I should have been a better husband. Should have spent more time with her and Jimmy. In the nine years since Linda had been gone, Jim had only gone out with a couple of women, and those had just been casual dates. His mother had mentioned once that she thought Jimmy needed a mother, but Jim didn’t see it that way. It would have been stupid to get married again just so Jimmy could have a new mom. No one could ever love the boy the way Linda had.
“You drifting off to sleep, Dad?”
Jim’s eyes snapped open. “Nope. Just doing a bit of reminiscing.”
“Thinking about Mom?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s hard to believe she’s been gone nine years, isn’t it?”
“Yep. Nine long years.” Jim sat up and reached for a freshly opened bottle of beer and took a long swig.
At the same time, Jimmy reached for the newspaper lying on the coffee table between them. “Wonder if there’s anything good playing at the movies this week,” he said. “Allen wants me to go on a double date with him and Sandy on Friday night.”
“Speaking of Allen. . . What’d the two of you do on Sunday to celebrate your birthday?”
“Nothing spectacular. After church, I went over to his house, and his mom fixed my favorite meal—stuffed cabbage rolls and mashed potatoes. And, of course, Beth had baked me a birthday cake.”
Jim grimaced. “Ugh. I hate cabbage rolls.” He took another swallow of beer. “Doesn’t sound like a very exciting day to me.”
“It was quiet but nice. I always enjoy spending time with Allen’s family.”
“Your mom liked to hang around those religious fanatics, too.”
“Dad, they’re not—”
“So what was in that birthday card your grandparents sent? Did they give you a hundred dollars like last year?”
Once Jimmy was seated in the rocker again, he ripped the envelope open. It was a birthday card all right—with a sailboat on the front and a check for a hundred dollars. There was also a smaller envelope tucked inside, and Grandma had scribbled a note to Jimmy on the bottom of the card, explaining that the note had been written by his mother and that she’d asked Grandma to see that Jimmy got it on his twenty-first birthday.
“How much money did you get?” Dad asked, his words slurring a bit.
“Same as last year, only Grandma included a letter Mom wrote before she died.” Jimmy squinted as he silently read the note.
Dear Jimmy,
I’m sure by now your father has told you the truth about your adoption, but he isn’t always good about sharing details, so I wanted to be sure you knew and understood the whole story.
First, I want you to know that the reason we didn’t tell you from the beginning that you were adopted was because we wanted to be sure you were old enough to understand.
The words on the page blurred as Jimmy reread the first two lines. Could it be true that he was adopted? He’d never suspected it, and neither Mom nor Dad had ever let on. He blinked a couple of times and forced his eyes to focus, determined to finish reading the letter.
Your dad and I were unable to have children of our own, and when we decided to adopt, it was because we both wanted a child and knew we could offer that child a good home with all the love he or she would need. So when Max Brenner, our attorney here in Puyallup, told us that a lawyer friend of his in Bel Air, Maryland, had contact with a single mother who couldn’t care for her one-year-old son, we jumped at the chance to adopt you. After Max set the wheels in motion on this end, we drove to the East Coast to pick up our baby.
As it turned out, I ended up with one of my sick headaches and had to stay behind in the hotel while your dad went to Carl Stevens’s office in Bel Air.
Oh, Jimmy, I can’t tell you how excited I was when I held you for the first time. It was as though you had always been mine. Raising you has been such a joy and a privilege. I couldn’t love you more had you been my own flesh-and-blood son.
Your dad loves you, too, although I know he has an odd way of showing it sometimes. He may come across as harsh and indifferent, but I think he hides behind his brashness in order to cover up his true feelings. I believe the reason he sometimes drinks is because he can’t deal with certain things.
I thank God for leading me to church, and I’m grateful you’ve found a personal relationship with the Lord, too. Even though I’ve never been able to convince your dad that he has a need for Christ, I’ve continued to pray that he will someday come to know Him as we do. Maybe you will be the one to show him the way, so please continue to pray for your dad.
Always remember that I love you, Jimmy, and I have ever since that amazing day when I first held you in my arms.
All my love,
Mom
With tears clogging the back of his throat, Jimmy lifted the piece of paper. “Mom told me the whole story in this letter.”
“The—the whole story? What whole story is that?” Dad plunked the beer bottle on the coffee table and clambered off the couch.
“About me being adopted. She thought you would have told me by now. Why haven’t you, Dad?”
“I—I was going to, Jimmy.” Dad’s face had turned red, and a trickle of sweat rolled off his forehead and onto his cheek.
“Mom said the two of you drove back East to get me and that you went to the lawyer’s office alone.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Your mother had one of her migraines that morning.” Dad leaned over Jimmy’s shoulder and stared at the letter. After a few minutes, he straightened, and his face seemed to relax. “She’s right, Jimmy. We both loved you, and the only reason we didn’t tell you about your adoption sooner was because—”
Jimmy waved the letter in front of his face. “I know all that. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me yourself. Why’d I have to find out like this?”
“I’m sorry about that, but I—I just kept putting it off.” Dad shrugged. “I would’ve gotten around to it sooner or later.”
“Really? I’m not so sure.”
“So I’m not perfect. You know about the adoption, and you know we both loved you. Now let’s get on with our lives, okay?”
Jimmy sprang to his feet, and Dad staggered backward. “Get on with our lives? I just found out I’m adopted, and now you want me to get on with my life like nothing’s any different than it’s always been?”
“I—I said I love you, and I loved your mother, too. Loved her enough to—” Dad sank to the couch, and with shaky fingers, he reached for his beer.
“Yeah, that’s right, Dad—the answer to everything is in that bottle, isn’t it?” Jimmy rarely spoke to his dad like this, but he was getting tired of covering for him when he didn’t show up at work and tired of putting up with his drunkenness and hearing all his lame excuses for why he drank. Learning that he’d been adopted and realizing his dad was supposed to have told him made Jimmy feel things he’d never felt before and say things he’d always wanted to say but had kept bottled up inside.
Dad gulped down some more beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I—I need something to take the edge off. You know, to help me calm down.”
“Yeah, right. Whatever.” Every muscle in Jimmy’s body tensed, and his head swam with so many unanswered questions—things he wanted to know—things he needed to understand. But now wasn’t the time for more questions. He had to be alone. He was afraid that if he stayed here one more minute, he might explode.
Driven by a force he didn’t question, Jimmy sprinted across the room and rushed out the front door.
Leona remained on the swing with Cinnamon’s head in her lap as she watched Abner head for his buggy. He seemed like a lonely person, and she wondered why he didn’t have a girlfriend by now. Maybe he’d been hurt by someone and had decided to remain single. Or maybe he stayed single so he could better care for his mamm and little bruder. His only other siblings were two married sisters who each had families of their own to care for.
“I sure miss my students,” she murmured, thinking about Emanuel and the other children she’d come to care about. “I wish I was at the schoolhouse cleaning the blackboard right now, not sitting here like a lazy lump of clay.”
Cinnamon whimpered and nudged Leona’s hand with her cold, wet nose. “And too bad I can’t see well enough to read without my glasses,” she added.
Leona stared at the lawn, and as she watched the tall blades of grass shimmer in the breeze, she thought about the letters from her students that had come in today’s mail. After reading only the one note from Emanuel, Mom had taken them inside when Abner showed up.
She reached for her glass of tea, which she had set on the wide porch rail, and stood. “Guess I’ll go inside and see if Mom has the time to finishing reading me the mail.”
Cinnamon followed Leona to the door, but Leona didn’t allow the dog to go inside. Papa had never been keen on pets in the house, and Cinnamon was no exception.
The sizzle of strong-smelling onions and the hiss of their propane stove greeted Leona when she stepped into the kitchen a few seconds later. She spotted Mom in front of the sink peeling potatoes.
“I didn’t realize you were starting supper already. You should have called me,” Leona said, moving quickly across the room.
Mom lifted the potato peeler. “Thought I’d get an early start, and I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with Abner.” She smiled. “He seems to be a right-nice young fellow.”
“Jah. Abner’s a good bruder, too. He’s concerned because Emanuel has been rather unruly since their daed died last spring, and he was worried the boy might have been fooling around when
the ball hit me in the face.”
“Did you set him straight on that?”
“I did. Accidents happen, and I’m sure Emanuel was only trying to strike me out, not break my naas.” Leona opened a drawer and withdrew a paring knife. “Want me to cut up the potatoes for you?”
“Without your glasses? You might end up cutting yourself.”
“I mostly need them for reading, Mom, but if it would make you feel better, I’ll peel, and you can cut.”
“That’s fine by me.”
For the next few minutes, they worked in silence as Mom cut potatoes and checked on the cooking onions while Leona peeled potatoes and thought about her students’ letters. When the last potato was peeled, cut, and placed in the frying pan to cook with the onions, Leona turned to her mamm and said, “Since Papa won’t be home for a while, would you have time to read me the other letters that came from my students today?”
“Jah, sure. I can do that right now.” Mom pulled out a chair at the table, and Leona did the same. As her mamm read letters from Josh and Nate Hoffmeir, Elmer and John Fisher, and Leona’s youngest student, Selma Stauffer, Leona sat with her eyes closed, basking in the pleasure of hearing what her students had to say and picturing each of their precious, youthful faces.
When the last letter had been read, Leona released a yawn. “Sorry about that, but I feel kind of sleepy all of a sudden.”
“Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down awhile? I’ll call you when it’s time to get the rest of supper going.”
With a deep sense of appreciation, Leona gave her mamm a hug. “Danki.”
“You’re welcome.”
As Naomi guided her horse and buggy up the Weavers’ driveway, Leona’s dog rushed out to greet her, barking her usual friendly greeting.
The Bishop's Daughter Page 3