The Bishop's Daughter

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  “Yeah,” his twin brother agreed. “I feel funny around Jacob Weaver since he fell on his head and turned into a kid. It’s hard to know how we should act around him.”

  Abraham glanced over at Timothy, who sat beside him. “Don’t you be talkin’ that way. Jacob can’t help that he’s lost his memory. Since he’s not able to do many of the things he used to do, his family needs all the help they can get. Just act like yourselves and help me with some chores that need doin’.” Abraham thought of all the times Jacob had helped him in the past. He’d offered his friendship and spiritual counsel when it was needed the most, so now Abraham wasn’t about to let his friend down in his hour of need. He would help the Weaver family as long as it was required.

  “Can’t the bishop’s son help him?” Timothy questioned.

  “I’m sure Arthur’s helping as much as he can, but he has his daed’s business to run now, which is a full-time job.”

  Titus leaned over the seat and tapped his father on the shoulder. “What about Leona and her mamm? Aren’t they gonna be helpin’ out?”

  Abraham groaned. “Of course they are, but they have their own chores to do; there are some tasks only a man can manage.”

  Timothy snorted. “Jacob might be thinkin’ like a little kid now, but he’s still got the body of a man. I’m sure he could handle most of the chores if he was told what to do.” He folded his arms and looked straight ahead. “Me and Titus have been doin’ our share of chores ever since we could walk.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” his twin agreed. “I’ve been haulin’ wood in our old wheelbarrow since before I can remember.”

  Abraham clenched his teeth. It was bad enough that things between him and Naomi were strained. He didn’t need two complaining teenagers to deal with this morning. “I’m sure there will be certain chores that Jacob’s capable of doing, but the doctor wants him to take it easy and give his body a chance to recover from that nasty fall.” He looked at Timothy, then over his shoulder at Titus. “I don’t want to hear another word about your not wantin’ to help. Is that clear?”

  “Jah,” the twins said in unison.

  A short time later, Abraham guided his horse and buggy onto Jacob’s property and pulled back on the reins, halting the horse in front of the rail near the barn. Oh, Lord, he silently prayed. Please give my good friend his memory back.

  Leona glanced at the other side of the barn where the men sat on backless, wooden benches during their Sunday preaching service. This week’s service was being held at Jake Fisher’s place. She spotted Papa sitting beside Arthur. On the other side of him sat Abraham Fisher. Abraham was a kind yet determined man, who had gone through many trials over the years, and Leona knew he cared about her family. He had proven that by all he’d done since her daed’s accident—coming over to do some of the more difficult chores, bringing dishes of food Fannie had prepared, and letting Mom know that he and his family had been praying. Others in the community had been kind and offered their assistance and prayers, as well.

  Leona stared at the veins protruding from her clenched hands as her thoughts continued to drift. Jimmy Scott had also been a big help since her daed’s mishap. He often dropped by the house, offering to do chores and spending many hours with Papa. They talked, went for walks, and even played with the animals in the barn. Papa seemed to enjoy being around the barn animals, and he’d even made a pet out of one of the baby goats.

  It’s nice that Jimmy wants to be with Papa, but I don’t know what they would have to talk about, she thought. With Papa thinking he’s a little boy, it’s not likely that he’d have much in common with Jimmy or any other grown man, Amish or English, and yet he carries on as though he’s known Jimmy all his life. Maybe Jimmy reminds Papa of one of his childhood friends. Jah, that’s probably it.

  Leona remembered how distressing it had been the first day her daed came home from the hospital and saw his face in Mom’s hand mirror. He’d clutched Mom’s hand and begged her to take away that old man with the beard who stared back at him with such a curious expression. No matter how much explaining Mom did, Papa couldn’t seem to grasp the concept that he was a grown man with a family, even though he had seen himself in the mirror several times since then.

  Leona heard a scuffle on the other side of the room and glanced over to see what was going on. She was shocked to discover her daed standing in the aisle with his hands on his hips, staring at Leona’s brother. “I need a drink of water. I told ya three times already—I’m thirsty,” he said, his voice a little too loud.

  Arthur’s face turned cherry red, and he reached out and grabbed hold of Papa’s hand. “Sit back down, please.”

  Papa jerked his hand away and took a step backward. “Mama said I could have some water whenever I feel thirsty!”

  Leona quickly scanned the room. Everyone seemed to be watching Papa instead of Matthew Fisher, the song leader for the day. She knew if her daed were really a little boy, and not their bishop who’d lost his memory, he would have been taken outside for a good tongue-lashing or maybe even a sound bletsching. Amish children were taught at an early age to sit quietly during church, and no parent would allow an outburst such as this. Although her daed couldn’t lose his title as bishop, he wouldn’t be required to do any of his previous duties right now. Even so, he should be expected to sit still during the three-hour service, like all the kinner who were present.

  Papa gave Arthur’s hand another tug, and finally, Arthur grunted, stood, and led their daed out of the room.

  Leona breathed a sigh of relief and forced her gaze back to the songbook resting on her knees. “The innermost life of the true Christian shineth, tho’ outwardly darkened by trials on hand.” The words on the page blurred, and she closed her eyes.

  The following morning, Leona awoke with a headache. She hadn’t slept well last night, and the weather had turned hot and muggy after a heavy rainfall, which didn’t help her mood any. Her stomach growled, yet she didn’t feel hungry. It was as though her body and mind waged a war on one another these days.

  Despite the pounding in her temples, Leona knew she must wash up and get dressed because Mom was probably in the kitchen already and would need help making breakfast. She lifted herself off the bed and started across the room, but every move took courage and stamina she didn’t seem to have.

  Sometime later, she descended the steps and was on her way to the kitchen when the back door flew open and a baby goat trotted into the house. Papa followed, his face all red and sweaty.

  “You’d better get that animal out of here before Mom sees him. And you’re tracking mud into the house with your wet feet.” Leona crossed her arms and glared at him. It seemed odd to be speaking to her daed in such a way, but if he was going to act like a child, he needed to be treated like one.

  “I ain’t got wet feet. I’m wearing my gammschtiwwel.”

  Before Leona could scold him about wearing his rubber boots inside, the goat darted into the living room, circled the rocking chair a couple of times, and then leaped onto the sofa. Papa laughed as he chased after it, angering Leona further. “This isn’t funny, Papa. The living room is no place for a goat!” She could hardly believe the same man who had been so adamant about no pets in the house all these years could now be entertaining a goat—and right here in the living room, of all places!

  “I’ll take him upstairs to my bedroom.” Papa grabbed hold of the goat’s underbelly, lifted the squirming animal into his arms, and started across the room.

  Leona positioned herself in front of the staircase. “That animal belongs outside in his pen, so please take him there now.”

  He glared at her defiantly. “You’re not my boss, sister.”

  “I’m not your sister, but if you don’t do as I say, I’m going to call Mom.”

  Papa’s lower lip jutted out, and his forehead wrinkled. “Everything is out of kilter for me.”

  “I know,” she said, her anger abating.

  Papa hugged the struggling goat
tighter and sauntered over to the front door. “Want me to make the door shut?”

  “Jah, please.”

  Just as his hand touched the knob, he called over his shoulder, “Ya know what? You’re not much fun, Ona!”

  His words stung, but Leona kept quiet.

  The door closed behind Papa, and as his final word registered in her brain, Leona stood there, too numb to move. He’d called her “Ona”—the nickname he had given her when she was a little girl. Did her daed know who she was now?

  She rushed out the door after him. “Papa, wait up!”

  He halted at the bottom of the steps, glanced around the yard, and then turned to face her. “Where’s Papa? I don’t see him nowhere. How come our daed’s never around anymore?”

  A weary sigh escaped Leona’s lips, and she felt as if her heart had dropped all the way to her toes. If Papa had momentarily remembered her, his memory had already vanished. “Papa’s gone away,” she said with a moan. “Papa’s gone away and might never come back.”

  Her daed squinted and stared at her. Then unexpectedly, his face broke into a wide smile. “Ah, you’re just kiddin’ with me, ain’t ya, Mary?”

  He thinks I’m his sister again. Leona gulped in a deep breath and released it quickly. “Jah. I’m just kidding.” With her shoulders slumped and a heart full of regrets, she turned toward the house. I’m a schoolteacher, and I should be accustomed to children’s silly ways. But dealing with the mind of a child inside a man’s body is an entirely different matter.

  “Would ya mind stoppin’ by Hoffmeirs’ General Store on our way to the next job site?” Eli asked as he and Jimmy drove into the town of Paradise. “I’m needing a new lunch pail, and Caleb usually keeps a pretty good supply on hand.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “Sure, I guess we have time to stop.” A few minutes later, he pulled his truck into the parking lot next to the store and turned off the engine.

  When the two men entered the store, Eli headed straight for the shelves where the lunch pails were kept. Jimmy glanced around the room and was surprised to see Jacob standing in front of the candy counter with a look of longing on his bearded face.

  “How are you doing today?” Jimmy asked, stepping up beside the bishop.

  “I’d be better if I had some candy.” He looked over at Jimmy and blinked a couple of times. “Licorice is my favorite kind.”

  Jimmy reached into his pocket and withdrew a dollar. “Pick out a few hunks, and I’ll buy them for you.”

  “Really?”

  Jimmy nodded.

  Jacob glanced around, kind of nervouslike. “You think my mamm will care?”

  “Maybe we should ask. Where is she?”

  Jacob pointed toward the adjoining quilt shop. “She and Mary went in there.”

  Jimmy knew the confused man was referring to Leona, since the other day she’d told him that her dad still thought she was his sister.”

  “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll go speak to Lydia about the candy.”

  Jacob’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”

  He patted the bishop’s arm. “I’ll speak to your mamm.”

  “Jah, okay. Hurry back.”

  Jimmy found Leona and her mother talking to Abby Fisher, who sat at a table in the middle of the room working on a quilt. The vivid blue colors and unusual star-shaped pattern reminded him of the quilt that had been on his parents’ bed during his growing-up years. After Mom passed away, Dad had put the quilt in a closet, saying it brought back too many painful memories. At the time, Jimmy thought he meant the covering reminded him of Mom. But since he’d been told about his kidnapping and had now accepted the story as truth, he wondered if the fact that the quilt had been Amish-made was what really had bothered Dad.

  Jimmy thought about last Saturday and how he’d driven all over the area around New Providence looking for a place that sold root beer. It had been a waste of time, just like all the other places he’d already looked. Even though Jimmy felt discouraged and realized that he might never locate his real family, he’d begun to wonder if God might have brought him to Lancaster County to help the Weavers, not to find his Amish roots. In fact, that was all that seemed important to Jimmy right now.

  “Can I help you with something?” Abby asked.

  Jimmy blinked and pushed his musings aside. “I—uh—was wondering if Lydia would mind if I bought Jacob some licorice.”

  Lydia smiled. “I have no problem with it. He is a grown man, after all.”

  Jimmy nodded, then glanced over at Leona, but she seemed preoccupied as she fiddled with the spool of thread she held in her hands. He looked back at Lydia. “How are things going this week? Is Jacob showing any signs of improvement?”

  Lydia shook her head, and even though a look of sadness swept over her face, he sensed her determined spirit to look on the brighter side of things. “I haven’t lost faith,” she murmured. “If it’s God’s will for Jacob’s memory to return, then it surely will.”

  Leona grunted and moved over to stand by the window. Jimmy was tempted to follow and offer some words of encouragement, but he decided against it. The last time he’d stopped by the Weavers’ place and mentioned the idea of putting Jacob to work on some of the schoolhouse repairs, Leona seemed upset. In fact, she’d stared at him in obvious disbelief and said, “You can’t be serious. My daed would never be able to help with repairs. He may look like he’s capable of a man’s work, but he thinks like a child, so he can’t be expected to do anything more than a boy would do.” The decided edge to her voice and the look of defeat he’d seen on her face let Jimmy know Leona still wasn’t dealing well with her father’s accident. His heart went out to her—and to everyone else in Jacob’s family.

  A short time later, as Eli and Jimmy were about to climb into his truck, he overheard Lydia, who stood near her closed-in buggy, ordering Jacob to get in. Leona sat in the driver’s seat, and her deep frown conveyed her frustration. Jimmy knew he couldn’t drive off without offering to help.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, stepping between Lydia and her husband.

  She nodded, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “Jacob refuses to get into the buggy.”

  “Is that true?” Jimmy asked. He looked at the bishop, who stood with his arms folded in an unyielding pose.

  “Mama won’t let me have more candy.”

  “I bought you some licorice. Did you eat it all?”

  “Jah, it’s gone.” Jacob patted his stomach and gave Jimmy a sheepish-looking grin.

  “It will soon be time for lunch,” Jimmy said, taking hold of the man’s arm. “You don’t want to spoil your appetite by eating too much candy, do you?”

  Jacob lowered his bushy eyebrows and stared at the ground. “My eatin’ went away.”

  Jimmy glanced over at Lydia and shrugged. He had no idea what the man was talking about.

  “I think he means that his appetite has left him.”

  “And no wonder, what with him eating candy so close to lunch,” Leona chimed in from her seat in the front of the buggy.

  “Would you like me to stop by your house later tonight? We can play with your goat if you like,” Jimmy said, hoping to get Jacob’s mind on something else.

  “That’d be nice.”

  Jimmy nodded at the buggy. “Then climb inside, and I’ll see you later on.”

  Without a word of argument, Jacob climbed into the back, smiling like a happy child.

  “Thank you, Jimmy.” Lydia took a seat beside her daughter and lifted her hand in a wave.

  “I’ll see you later this evening,” Jimmy called as the buggy pulled out of the parking lot.

  Eli, who had been standing beside Jimmy’s truck during the whole ordeal, shook his head. “That was sure somethin’ the way you handled things with our bishop. You’ve got a way with him that no one else seems to have, that’s for certain sure.”

  Jimmy opened the truck door. “I only wish I could do more.”

  Jimmy had just placed his breakfast dishes
in the sink when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered who would be calling him so early. When he pulled the phone from his belt clip to check the incoming number, he was relieved to see that it wasn’t his dad. “Hey, Allen,” he said. “Why are you calling so early? It’s seven o’clock here, which means it’s only four on the West Coast.”

  “I know it’s early, but I’m going with some of the young people to the Oregon coast today, and we want to get an early start,” Allen explained.

  “Sounds like fun. Wish I were going with you.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” There was a brief pause, then, “Hey, it’s sure good to hear your voice. It’s been awhile.”

  “I know. I’ve been really busy.”

  “Are you still painting for that Amish bishop you told me about?”

  “Yeah, but since Jacob’s memory hasn’t returned, he’s no longer able to run his business. And since he doesn’t remember hiring me, it’s really his son, Arthur, I’m working for now.”

  “It’s too bad about him falling off the ladder. I’ve still got our church’s prayer chain praying for him.”

  “Thanks. Jacob and the rest of his family need all the prayers they can get.”

  “Oh, by the way, I wanted you to know that I did try to get ahold of your dad,” Allen said. “He hasn’t answered the door or his phone whenever I’ve dropped by the house or called. Have you heard anything from him since the last time we talked?”

  “I spoke to him the other day, and as much as I hate to say this, I’ve decided that he’s telling the truth about kidnapping me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “You think he really took you from an Amish farm?”

  “That’s what he says, and he’s scared to death that if I find my real family he’ll end up in jail.”

  “The information I got off the Internet said the Amish don’t sue. So I doubt they would press any kind of criminal charges against your dad,” Allen said.