Things will go better next term, when the scholars go back to school in late August, Leona thought. Then again, though my nose will feel better by then, I’m not sure my broken heart will ever mend.
Leona had just finished making the salad when Papa showed up. He looked tired, yet despite the slump of his shoulders and his slowmoving gait, he wore a smile on his suntanned face. “How’d your day go, Lydia?” he asked, setting his metal lunchbox on one end of the counter.
Mom held a piece of ham out to him. “It went well enough.”
“Danki,” Papa said, eagerly accepting it. He wandered over to the table and took a seat beside Leona. “How was your day? Were the kinner happy to see you at school?”
She nodded and placed the bowl of salad greens on the table.
“I see you’re not wearin’ your glasses. Is your naas hurtin’ again?”
“A little.” She shrugged. “Besides, I don’t need them for salad making.”
“Is there something bothering you? You seem awfully sullen this evening.”
A few uncomfortable seconds passed between them before Leona wiped her hands on the dish towel lying in her lap and said, “If you must know, I’m a little upset because you arranged for Abner to pick me up this morning without telling me about it.”
Papa’s bushy eyebrows drew together. “I had to leave for work early, and I thought I was doin’ you a favor by asking Abner. I ran into him yesterday on my way home from work, so he seemed like the likely one to ask.”
“You weren’t trying to play matchmaker, were you, Jacob?” Mom chimed in from across the room.
Leona clasped her hands tightly around the towel as she looked at her daed. “Is that what you were doin’, Papa?”
He gave his earlobe a quick tug. “Well, I—”
“Papa, Abner seems nice enough, but I’m not looking for another man, because I won’t be thinking of marriage ever again.”
“Oh, Leona, you don’t mean that,” her mamm said. “You’re still hurting from losing Ezra, and it’s too soon for you to think of anyone else courting you, that’s all.”
“I enjoy teaching school, and that’s enough for me,” Leona said. “I don’t need love or marriage.”
Papa grunted. “That’s just plain lecherich. Teaching’s a fine vocation, but you should concentrate on finding a suitable husband so you can begin a life of your own as a fraa and mudder.”
So now her father thought she was being ridiculous? Tears welled up in Leona’s eyes, and she blinked to keep them from spilling over. She had wanted to be a wife and mother when she’d thought she was going to marry Ezra. But those plans had dissolved the day Ezra died, and she couldn’t even think of loving another man or risk losing him.
“Our daughter will find someone when her heart has had time to heal,” Mom said, touching Papa’s arm.
He pushed his chair aside and stood. “I’m sure she will, but closing her mind off to love and marriage isn’t a good thing.”
Leona gritted her teeth. Her folks were talking about her as if she wasn’t even in the room. And Papa seemed determined that she forget about Ezra and find someone else to marry. Well, at least Mom stood up for me this time, she thought. Guess that’s something to be grateful for. I just hope Papa has no more plans of trying to get Abner and me together.
Jimmy was glad his dad was out on the deck soaking in the hot tub. It gave him a chance to be alone. After supper, he’d decided to come into the living room so he could look through a couple of old photo albums.
He settled himself on the couch and reached under the coffee table to grab an album off the shelf. It was full of pictures that had been taken of him from the time he was one-year-old up until his first day of school. Jimmy grinned when he spotted a picture of himself holding one end of the garden hose. Water squirted out of the hose, just missing his face, and a puddle of mud lay beneath his feet. His light blue overalls were wet clear up to the waist, but he wore a smile, nonetheless.
The next picture that caught Jimmy’s eye was one of him bent over a branch on their Christmas tree, trying to blow out the twinkle lights. There were several pictures that had been taken on his second birthday, with blue balloons and matching crepe paper decorating the dining room. Jimmy sat in his high chair staring wide-eyed at a clown cake and clapping his chubby hands.
He turned the page, and his gaze came to rest on a picture of himself sitting in the middle of his parents’ bed, on top of Mom’s colorful Amish quilt. A pang of regret surged through him, and he snapped the album shut. I miss her so much, and I wish she’d been able to tell me about my adoption in person so we could have discussed the details face-to-face. Well, at least I was able to talk about my feelings to Allen this afternoon.
Jimmy leaned against the back of the couch and closed his eyes as he reflected on the information he’d shared with his best friend while they were at the park today. . . .
“I’m not who you think I am,” Jimmy said in a near whisper.
“What are you talking about? You’re Jimmy Scott, a great photographer and the truest friend I’ve ever had.” Allen squeezed Jimmy’s shoulder.
“I’m not Jim and Linda Scott’s son. I was born to someone else.”
Allen’s forehead wrinkled. “Oh, you mean you were adopted?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Well, that’s no big deal. Lots of kids are adopted.”
“I know, but I’ve only known the truth for a few days.”
“You mean your dad just told you? Is that why you spent the night at our place?”
“Yeah, and I found out about the adoption only because of a letter Mom wrote me before she died.” Jimmy paused and pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the strain he felt between his eyes. “The letter came in a birthday card from my grandparents. I guess Mom asked her mother to see that I got the letter on my twenty-first birthday.”
Allen’s mouth hung slightly open. “That must have been a real shock, learning it that way.”
Jimmy nodded. “I guess Dad was supposed to tell me, but he conveniently never got around to it.”
“Do you think he kept it from you on purpose?”
“Maybe.”
“Could be that he was worried you might not understand, or maybe he thought you’d think he and Linda didn’t love you as much as your real parents might have.”
“Mom loved me, I’m sure of that, and I guess, in Dad’s own way, he loves me, too.”
Allen nodded. “I don’t think he always knows how to express himself, but I’ve never doubted his love for you.” He gave Jimmy’s shoulder another squeeze. “What now? Are you going to try and find out who your real parents are?”
“I want to, and Dad’s promised to call the lawyer who set up the adoption for them and see what information he can get.”
“Isn’t there some kind of client confidentiality that would keep a lawyer from divulging that information?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s the best place I can think of to start looking.”
“I’ll be praying that you find the answers you’re seeking,” Allen said in a sincere tone.
Jimmy clenched his hands so tightly that his fingers dug into his palms. “While you’re at it, you’d better pray that my dad won’t renege on this promise.”
The irritating buzz of a lawn mower as it zipped across the yard next door brought Jimmy’s thoughts back to the present. He opened his eyes and looked around. This had been his home for as long as he could remember. He’d watched television in this living room, played games, put puzzles together, listened as Mom read him Bible stories, and wrestled around on the floor with his dad. In all of his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined that they weren’t his real parents.
Jimmy swallowed around the lump clogging his throat. Mom was worried about me being old enough to deal with the truth about my adoption; yet here I am twenty-one years old, and I’m still not dealing with it well.
Jimmy exhaled and closed his eyes, knowing he needed
to pray. Dear Lord, even after all these years, I still miss Mom so much. She was the only mother I’ve ever known, and I’ll always love her. If only she were here now to tell me what to do. What should I do, Lord? What should I do?
When Jim entered the living room after changing from his swimsuit into his sweatpants, he spotted Jimmy sitting on the couch, his head bowed and eyes closed. The kid’s just like his mom, he thought as irritation welled up in his chest. Every time he turns around, he’s praying about something.
Jim cleared his throat, and Jimmy opened his eyes.
“I’m glad you’ve come inside because I need to ask you something, Dad.”
Jim took a seat in the rocking chair across from Jimmy. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you were able to call that lawyer in Maryland today.”
Jim groaned inwardly. “Nope. I was too busy. I’ll do it later in the week.”
“Are you sure?” Jimmy’s expression was as stoic as a statue.
“Of course I’m sure. And don’t start pressuring me. You know how busy we’ve been at work.” He stood and moved toward the door leading to the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Jimmy called after him.
“Out to the kitchen to get a beer so I can unwind.”
“I thought that was why you had gone in the hot tub.”
Jim whirled around. “It was, but it wasn’t enough to make me relax.”
Jimmy grimaced. “You shouldn’t have to drink in order to relax, Dad. I don’t think you realize how much you’re drinking these days. I’m worried that you’ll lose your business if you don’t get some help. Maybe you should consider going to AA.”
“Alcoholics Anonymous?”
Jimmy nodded.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“I’m serious, Dad. There’s a lady from church who’s a recovered alcoholic, and she says she’s gotten a lot of help from AA. She spoke to our young adult Sunday school class last week and told us that, even though she’s been dry for years, she still goes to those meetings as often as she can.”
“If she’s recovered, why would she need to keep going?”
“Partly to remind herself that she is and always will be an alcoholic. But I think the main reason she goes is to help others who are new to the group and need some support.”
“Each to his own, I guess.”
Jim had almost made it to the hallway door when Jimmy called out, “Would you like me to see when and where the next meeting is going to be held?”
“No!”
“How about going to church with me this Sunday? I can introduce you to—”
Jim squinted as he looked over his shoulder at Jimmy. “What part of no don’t you understand?”
“If it weren’t for me and Ed covering your back at work much of the time, you might have lost your business by now. Have you considered that?”
Jim whirled around. “I’m not an alcoholic—and with or without Ed’s and your help, I would not have lost my business!”
As Leona prepared for bed that night, her head pounded like a herd of stampeding horses. I should have listened to Mom when she suggested I not go to school today. It was good to see the kinner again, but I’m not sure it was worth the headache I’m left with now. She moved across the room to stand in front of her bedroom window. If I had stayed home, Papa wouldn’t have felt the need to ask Abner to give me a ride, either.
She leaned wearily against the window frame. I can’t believe he actually thought I might be interested in courting someone when it’s only been a few months since Ezra died.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
Leona glanced into the yard below. There sat Cinnamon, staring up at her as if begging to be let in. Leona opened the window and leaned her head out. “You know you can’t come inside the house. You’d better go out to the barn or find a comfortable spot on the porch to sleep.”
Woof! Woof!
“Hush up, Cinnamon. You’ll wake Papa and Mom with all that barking.”
Woof!
“Okay, okay, you win. I’ll be right down.” Leona smiled as the dog wagged its tail and swaggered toward the porch as though she’d won a prize.
Grabbing her cotton robe from a wall peg, Leona slipped quietly out of her room, tiptoed down the stairs, and hurried out the back door.
A chilly wind met her as she stepped outside. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her chest. It might be plenty warm during the day, but nighttime was another matter.
Cinnamon pranced up to Leona, licking her hand as she bent to pet the dog. “I can’t stay out here long, but we can sit awhile and listen to the crickets sing if you promise to be real quiet.”
The dog answered with a soft whine, then flopped down beside Leona when she took a seat on the top porch step. Without an invitation, Cinnamon laid her head in Leona’s lap.
“Did you miss me today, girl?” Leona asked, scratching the dog behind its left ear.
Cinnamon released a quiet grunt.
“I missed you, too.” Leona closed her eyes and reflected on the days of her youth when Cinnamon had been her constant companion. With her sisters and her brother being several years older than she, Leona had little in common with Peggy, Rebecca, and Arthur. Sometimes Leona had felt like an only child, especially after both sisters had gotten married and moved to Kentucky. Arthur always seemed to be busy helping Papa with the painting business. Truth was, even if he had been around home more before he married Doris, Leona was sure he wouldn’t have wanted his little sister tagging after him all the time. So, from the time Papa gave her Cinnamon, Leona and the dog had been best friends. Leona rather liked it that way. A dog wasn’t likely to place demands on you the way people sometimes did. And a faithful dog loved unconditionally, which was more than could be expected from a lot of folks.
As Cinnamon’s heavy breathing turned to soft snores, Leona opened her eyes and stared at the sky. The silver pinpoints of stars overhead reminded her of the Lone Star quilt on her bed. She sat there several minutes watching the stars twinkle, talking to God, and wondering what her future might hold.
Sure is nice that you and your family could join us for supper tonight,” Abraham said, thumping his friend on the back as they followed Lydia and Leona toward the house.
“I’d never pass up a free meal.” Jacob chuckled. “Especially not when one of Fannie’s delicious turkey potpies is involved.”
“We’re having banana cake for dessert,” Abraham announced. “So be sure you don’t eat too much supper.”
Lydia glanced over her shoulder and smirked at him. “Oh, you can be sure my husband will eat more than his share this evening.” She laughed, along with the others.
When they entered the house, Abraham noticed that Fannie and Mary Ann were scurrying around the kitchen like a couple of excited chickens.
“What can I do to help?” Leona asked, stepping up to Abraham’s youngest daughter.
Mary Ann smiled and motioned to the table. “The glasses need to be filled with water.”
“Okay.”
“And what would you like me to do?” Lydia questioned.
“How about cutting some radishes? They’re fresh from the garden,” Fannie replied.
“Sure, I can do that.”
Abraham leaned close to his wife. “Call us when supper’s ready.”
“Jah, we sure will,” she said with a nod.
Abraham brushed Jacob’s shoulder as he pointed to the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll go round up my youngest sons.”
A short time later, Abraham sat at the head of the table with Jacob at the other end. The women took their seats on Abraham’s left, and his twin sons, who would turn fifteen in the fall, found their way to the bench on the other side of the table. All heads bowed for silent prayer. When Abraham finished his prayer, he cleared his throat and said, “Now, let’s eat ourselves full!”
“I know I’ll eat my share,” Titus announced. At least Abraham thought it was Titus
. Sometimes, when the boys were in a teasing mood, they would pretend to be the other twin, wearing each other’s clothes and answering to the other brother’s name.
He leaned to the left, hoping to get a good look at his son’s eyes. Titus had one eye a little bigger than the other.
The boy turned his head before Abraham could get a good look and confirm which twin was speaking. “Say, Bishop Weaver, I’ve been wonderin’ about something.”
Jacob forked a couple of Fannie’s homemade bread-and-butter pickles onto his plate. “What do you want to know, Timothy? It is Timothy, right?”
“Nope. I’m Titus.”
“All right then. What do you want to know, Titus?”
Timothy snickered, and Titus jabbed him in the ribs. “Knock it off!”
Fannie gave both boys a warning glance, and Abraham did the same. “You two had better quit fooling around and eat,” he said sternly.
“I was eating ’til my mutwillich bruder decided to stick his bony elbow in my ribs.”
“Jah, well, it hasn’t only been your brother who’s been playful—you’ve been pretty rambunctious yourself all day, and I’ve had enough of it.” Abraham passed the platter of radishes over to Titus. “Why don’t you have a couple of these? They ought to cool ya down some.”
“No thanks. I’m sure they’re too hot for me.”
Jacob chuckled behind his napkin. “Now what was that question you had for me, Titus?”
“I was wonderin’ if you’re too poor to put a front window glass in your buggy?”
“Don’t be rude, son,” Abraham said with a shake of his finger. “You surely know that a missing front window is one of the things that distinguish a bishop’s buggy from others in this community.”
“Are ya dumm?” Timothy asked, giving his twin a sidelong glance.
“I ain’t dumb,” Titus shot back.
Timothy looked over at Jacob and said, “Say, I’ve got a question of my own.”
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