“I’m getting tired of this,” Jimmy mumbled as he exited his truck. From what he could remember, when Mom was alive, his dad’s drinking hadn’t been so bad. Dad had always been one to have a few too many beers now and then, but he never used to come home drunk or allow his work to become affected by his drinking. Dad’s drinking binges had become more frequent in recent years, and it had fallen on Jimmy’s shoulders to hold everything together—at home as well as on the job.
Maybe this time will be different, he thought. Dad may have forgotten to turn his cell phone on, and he may have had more errands to run than he first thought. He could be in the house right now, starting supper. He let himself in through the back door and soon discovered that the kitchen was empty. There was no sign of his dad’s lunch box on the cupboard, which was where he usually left it. “Dad, I’m home!” Jimmy called, stepping into the hallway.
No answer, just the steady tick-tock, tick-tock of the grandfather clock.
“Where are you, Dad?” Jimmy stepped into the living room and halted. There lay his dad on the living room floor with five empty beer bottles on the coffee table and another one in the curled fingers of his hand.
Jimmy groaned and dropped to his knees beside his dad. Well, at least he’s still breathing. He shook the man’s shoulders. “Wake up, Dad. You need to get off the floor. Come on, I’ll help you get upstairs to bed.”
His dad’s head lulled to one side, and he moaned. “I—I did it for you, Linda. You wanted a baby—so I gave you one—the only way I knew how.”
Even though the words were slurred, Jimmy knew what his dad had said. He’d obviously been using the fact that Jimmy knew about his adoption as an excuse to get drunk. Dad must feel guilty because he couldn’t give Mom any children of his own.
“Come on, Dad. You’ve got to get up.”
No response, except for a loud hiccup.
“You can’t stay on the floor all night.” Jimmy shook his dad’s shoulder again, but the only reply he got was a plea for more beer. “I’m not getting you anything more to drink. You need to sleep this off, but not here on the living room floor.”
Dad closed his eyes, and his heavy breathing turned to loud snores.
Sometimes family members can be enablers. You need to practice tough love. His friend’s recent admonition echoed in Jimmy’s ears. “I know Allen’s right, but it’s a lot easier said than done,” Jimmy mumbled. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Then, rising to his feet, he grabbed the lightweight throw from the couch, threw it across his dad’s chest, and left the room. It was time for Dad to sink or swim. It was time for Jimmy to make a decision.
Jim’s eyelids felt heavy as he struggled to sit up. He blinked against the invading light streaming in through the window and glanced around the living room. What am I doing here, and what’s that horrible smell? As his eyes began to focus and reality set in, he realized that he was wearing the same white shirt and painter’s pants he’d had on yesterday, and the putrid smell was his own body odor, combined with the pile of vomit not far from where he lay.
Where’s Jimmy? Why didn’t he put me to bed like he always does whenever I can’t make it there on my own?
Jim moaned as he stood on shaky legs. There seemed to be no way to hold his head that didn’t hurt. I need some coffee and a couple of aspirin. I need— He glanced at the mess he’d made on the carpet and grimaced. I need Jimmy—where’s Jimmy?
He stumbled out to the kitchen, figuring Jimmy might be there making coffee, even though his nose told him otherwise. Maybe Jimmy was still in bed or had left for work already, figuring Jim would be too hung over to make it today.
When Jim realized Jimmy wasn’t in the kitchen, he staggered over to the coffeemaker and was about to reach for the pot when he saw an envelope lying on the counter with his name on it. Jimmy must have left me a note so I’d know he’s gone to work without me.
He got the coffee going, took a seat at the table, and ripped open the envelope.
Dad,
I think I know what triggered this recent bender, but it’s still no excuse. I’ve got a feeling the reason you still haven’t called that lawyer in Maryland is because you’re afraid if I find my real parents that I won’t love you anymore or might not come home.
Jim moistened his lips and squinted at the page. Come home? Has Jimmy gone somewhere?
He read on.
Last night after I found you passed out on the living room floor, I made a decision. Since I’m the one who was adopted, it’s really my job to search for information about my biological parents, not yours. So I left for Maryland early this morning. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.
Take care, Dad. I’ll be in touch.
Love,
Jimmy
Jim let the note slip to the floor as he dropped his head to the table. “Oh, Jimmy, what have you done?”
On Monday afternoon, Leona entered the schoolhouse and glanced around the room. She’d come to see what all needed to be done before the school year began in August. As soon as she had lit a kerosene lamp, she pulled out the chair at her desk, took a seat, and opened the top drawer, withdrawing a tablet and pen. She wrote the following list:
Outside and inside of building need to be painted.
Roof leaks and needs to be patched.
Need a new blackboard—one of those white ones that use an erasable marking pen rather than chalk.
Floors and desks need to be cleaned and polished.
Leona’s list making came to a halt when a horse and buggy trotted into the school yard. The horse’s hooves clip-clopped against the gravel, and the animal neighed as it came to a stop. Leona pushed away from her desk and went to the door, pleased to discover Mary Ann climbing down from her buggy.
“Wie geht’s?” Leona called.
“I’m doing good, danki.”
“What brings you out here in the middle of the day?” Leona asked when her friend joined her on the porch. “I figured you’d be working at the quilt shop all afternoon.”
“Actually, I am working today. I’m on my way over to Margaret Byler’s place to pick up some quilts she has ready to sell.”
Leona opened the door and led the way into the schoolhouse. “How come Margaret didn’t bring them to the store herself?”
“Yesterday at church, her granddaughter mentioned that Margaret had come down with the flu and was home in bed.”
“That’s a shame.” Leona clucked her tongue. “I hope you won’t be exposed to the bug by going over to the Bylers’ house.”
“I won’t be there long, and someone in the family will probably have the quilts ready when I arrive.” Mary Ann smiled. “Changing the subject. . . I was wondering if you’re planning to go to the singing this Sunday night. It’s to be held in my daed’s barn, you know.”
Before Leona could formulate a response, Mary Ann added, “You’ve missed the last couple of young people’s gatherings, and I think it would be good for you to get out and do something fun for a change.”
“I’ll probably be busy that night.”
Mary Ann squinted, causing the skin around her eyes to crinkle. “Want to know what I think?”
“What’s that?”
“You work too hard and need to socialize more.”
Leona took a seat at her desk and motioned to the tablet lying before her. “Busy schoolteachers always have something to do.”
“But it’s summer, and you shouldn’t be working here now.”
“I’m making a list of the things that need to be done before school starts, and there’s also some cleaning and organizing I want to do yet.”
Mary Ann placed one hand on the desk. “But you won’t be working on Sunday, and when it’s time to get the schoolhouse ready, the students’ parents will help with much of the repairs and cleaning. So there’s no excuse for you not to come to the singing or any other social event that might be held this summer.”
“I don’t feel much like socializi
ng these days, but I’ll think about it.”
“Jah, okay.” Mary Ann turned toward the door. “Guess I’d best be on my way or Abby will wonder what’s taking me so long.”
Leona lifted her hand in a wave. “See you later then.”
Jim left the house around noon after phoning Ed to say he would be late. Then he headed for the Tacoma Mall, hoping to stop at the health food store again to see what else they might have for his nerves. He’d tried to call Jimmy several times but had only gotten his voice mail. He needed to talk to Jimmy before he got to Maryland.
A short time later, he pulled his van into the mall parking lot and turned off the engine. When he entered the health food store, he discovered Holly was waiting on a customer. Not wishing to interrupt, he wandered up and down the aisles looking at various vitamins and herbal preparations.
“It’s nice to see you again, Jim. May I help you with something?” Holly asked as she stepped up to him a few minutes later.
He smiled, feeling rather self-conscious yet pleased that she had remembered his name. “I’m—uh—feeling kind of shaky today, and I was hoping you might have something else I could try for my nerves.”
“Didn’t that homeopathic remedy you bought help any?”
“It did at first, but I’m still having a hard time sleeping, and—well, I’m kind of going through a rough time right now, so I really could use—”
“I know all about the problem of not sleeping,” she said. “Plus I’ve dealt with a host of other things that affected my health for some time.”
Jim studied the woman a few seconds. Her eyes were a pale blue, and her blond hair, worn short and fringed around her cheeks, looked even healthier than he had remembered. He couldn’t imagine that she’d ever had any kind of health problems.
“I’m a recovered alcoholic,” Holly said. “I’m not proud of my past, but with God’s help and the support of Alcoholics Anonymous, I’ve remained sober for the past ten years.”
Jim’s mouth dropped open. He never would have guessed that this pretty, pleasant woman had ever had a drinking problem. I wonder what got her started? Could she have had a troubled marriage or been dealing with guilt from her past, like me? Could Holly be the recovering alcoholic Jimmy had mentioned not long ago?
“You seem surprised by my confession.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Just because I go to church every Sunday doesn’t mean I’ve lived my life on Easy Street. Accepting Christ as my Savior was the first step to my recovery, but I had to do many other things to help myself, too.”
Jim thought about his own problem with alcohol, but it was nothing he couldn’t control; he wasn’t about to tell someone he barely knew that had awakened on the living room floor this morning because he’d had a few too many beers last night.
Holly pointed to the shelf in front of her. “I’ve got several things here that might help you sleep, but, of course, none of them will be as strong as what a doctor might prescribe.”
“That’s okay. I don’t need any more drugs,” he mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Just give me some herbs to help me relax, and I’m sure I’ll be good to go.”
Jimmy loosened his grip on the steering wheel and tried to relax. He’d never made a trip this far alone. For that matter, he and his folks had never driven any farther than to one of the ocean beaches or down to Boise to see his mom’s parents.
“They’ve never really been my grandparents,” he muttered, squinting against the glint of the morning sun on his truck’s window. “And neither were Grandma and Grandpa Scott.” He clicked on the radio, hoping to diffuse his thoughts with some mellow music. The only stations he could pick up either played repetitious country songs or broadcast the local news. Remembering that he’d brought along some of his favorite Christian CDs, he finally popped one into the CD player. “Ah, that’s better.”
Jimmy hummed along with the music for a while, keeping his focus on the road and his thoughts off his unknown future. If he were to find his birth mother, then what? He couldn’t just march up to her and announce, “Hi, my name’s Jimmy Scott, and I’m the son you gave up for adoption twenty years ago.” He’d never been in a situation like this before, and he had no idea what he would say or do if he were to meet either his real mother or father face-to-face.
Jimmy drew in a deep breath and tried to relax. There was no point thinking about any of this until he had something to go on. “I need to trust God to give me the right words—if and when the time comes for me to meet my real parents.”
What are you doing home in the middle of the day?” Lydia asked when her husband stepped into the kitchen around three o’clock.
Jacob grinned and hung his straw hat on a wall peg near the door. “My crew’s paintin’ Daniel King’s barn, and since it’s not so far from here, I thought I’d run home and give my fraa a great big hug.” He took a few steps toward her, and Lydia went willingly into his arms.
“I’ve always known you were a fine painter, Jacob Weaver,” she said, closing her eyes and leaning against his chest. “And ever since the day you were chosen by lots to be our new bishop, I was sure you would be a good one.” She gave him a squeeze. “But to my way of thinking, the thing you’re the best at is being a loving, schmaert husband and father.”
He leaned down and kissed her gently on the mouth. Then Lydia opened her eyes and reached up to stroke his long, full beard, which seemed to have more gray than brown in it these days. She felt blessed to be married to such a caring, considerate man. He had not only looked out for her needs these nearly thirty-six years they’d been together, and to their children’s needs, as well, but he guided, comforted, and befriended his entire flock.
“So, then, have ya got anything cold to drink for your smart old man?” Jacob asked. “It’s sure a hot, sticky day out there. Can’t believe how warm it’s gotten already this year.”
Lydia eased out of his embrace and tipped her head to one side. “Ah, so that’s the reason you came by the house. I’ll bet you were hoping to have a few cookies to go with that cold drink, jah?”
His hazel eyes twinkled, and he chuckled, which made his beard jiggle up and down. “Some cookies and a cool drink would be good, but that’s not the only reason I dropped by to see you, my love.”
Lydia clucked her tongue as she headed across the room to the refrigerator. “We aren’t a couple of young sweethearts anymore, so you don’t have to say things like that to get me to pour you a glass of iced tea.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Or would you rather have some cold goat’s milk?”
Jacob ambled across the room and pulled out a chair. “Milk and cookies would be fine and dandy.”
A few minutes later, they were both seated at the table with tall glasses of milk set before them, along with a plate piled high with molasses cookies.
“Umm. . . These cookies are sure tasty,” he said, smacking his lips and lifting his bushy eyebrows until they nearly disappeared into his hairline.
“Danki. I’m glad you like ’em.”
“What’s our youngest daughter up to today?” Jacob asked. “I figured she might be out workin’ in the garden this afternoon, but I didn’t see any sign of her when I pulled into the yard.”
“She went over to the schoolhouse soon after lunch. Said she wanted to do some cleaning and make a list of things that need to be done before school starts.”
He nodded. “It won’t be long ’til the kinner’s summer break is over. I’m thinkin’ the outside of the school will need to be painted before then. That will no doubt be on her list.”
“Jah, I’m sure you’re right about that.”
“You think our daughter’s gonna be okay, Lydia?” Jacob asked as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Well, I know she’s still havin’ some headaches, but I believe after a few more visits with the chiropractor, she’ll be good as new.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t talkin’ about her physical condition. I was
referrin’ to her broken heart. She’s not really been the same since Ezra died.”
Lydia opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a knock at the back door. Her chair squeaked as she pushed it aside. “I’d best see who’s come a-calling.”
When she opened the door a few seconds later, she was surprised to see Abner Lapp standing on the front porch. “Is Leona here?” he asked.
“She’s not at home just now.”
His dark eyebrows lifted under his straw hat as he frowned. “She ain’t, huh?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Mind if I ask when she might be home?”
“She’s gone over to the schoolhouse to get some work done, and I doubt she’ll be here much before supper.”
Abner nodded. “Guess I’ll drive on over there, ’cause I need to talk to her about Emanuel.”
Lydia pursed her lips. “Your little bruder isn’t still blamin’ himself for Leona’s accident, is he?”
Abner shrugged. “I’m not sure, but all of a sudden, he’s sayin’ he doesn’t want to go back to school when it starts up again in August, and I’m hopin’ Leona might have some idea what I can do to persuade him. Short of me takin’ a board to the seat of his pants, that is.”
Before Lydia could respond, Jacob joined them at the door. “Maybe I should have a talk with the boy. I was always able to get through to my kinner—even Arthur, my headstrong one—without having to resort to physical punishment.”
Abner smiled. “That’d be much appreciated. Since I’m only Emanuel’s big bruder and not his daed, it’s hard on our relationship when I have to discipline too much.”
“I’ll drive on over to your place sometime this week and have a little heart-to-heart with Emanuel then,” Jacob said with a nod.
“Danki.” Abner turned and started down the porch steps. “Tell Leona I’m sorry I missed her,” he called over his shoulder.
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