The Bishop's Daughter

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  He frowned. “I ain’t no baby, and you shouldn’t be tellin’ me what to do. I’m a grown man, and I can paint this stall without anyone showin’ me how.”

  Leona stepped back as a sense of hope lifted her shoulders. Had her daed’s memory come back? Maybe God had finally answered her prayers. “Do—do you know who I am?”

  He nodded. “Sure. You’re my sister.”

  Leona shook her head. Maybe Papa just needed a little reminder. “I’m your daughter.”

  He blinked a couple of times and stared at her. “You sure about that?”

  “Jah. I’m Leona.”

  Silence draped around them like the shawl covering her trembling shoulders, until Papa finally lifted his eyebrows and said, “Ona?”

  “That’s right. You made up that nickname when I was a little girl.”

  His eyes clouded over, but then he gave a quick nod. “Okay.”

  Leona felt a chill—one that left her feeling colder than the bitter weather outside. Would this nightmare with Papa living in the past one minute, then acting as if he knew something of the present the next minute ever come to an end? Visions of happier times they had spent together in the barn raced through her mind, and her shoulders drooped with a feeling of hopelessness. Those days were gone for good.

  Trying to shake off the nagging thoughts, she turned and grasped the handle of the stall door, squeezing it so tightly that her fingers ached. “You’d better come inside for breakfast now. The pancakes Mom has made will be getting cold.”

  “Okay. Should I make out the lights?”

  “Better let me do that.”

  Jimmy glanced at the cardboard box sitting on the front seat of his truck. “I sure hope she likes her gift. She needs something to get her mind off her troubles.”

  He felt a compelling need to offer Leona support, and he knew the reason for his concern went beyond his sense of Christian duty. What had begun as curiosity had quickly turned to attraction. His desire to spend time with Leona and shield her from pain had taken him down a road he’d least expected. Jimmy wasn’t sure how or when it had happened, but he was well on his way to falling in love with the bishop’s daughter. That thought didn’t scare him nearly as much as his concern over what he was going to do about it. If he stayed in Lancaster County and joined the Amish faith, he would feel it necessary to reveal his past—despite the fact that he knew so little about it and had not found his real family. He still, for Mom’s sake, wanted to keep Jim from going to jail. However, he knew it wouldn’t be right to begin a relationship with secrets, so even if he decided to leave Pennsylvania and asked Leona to go with him, he would need to tell her about the kidnapping.

  Jimmy reflected on the phone conversation he’d had with Allen a few days ago. Allen had asked Jimmy when he was coming home, and Jimmy had been evasive, saying he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He’d said he was needed here—that Arthur had come to rely on his help with the painting business. He’d also mentioned that he enjoyed spending time with Jacob while he taught him how to paint and do some of the chores he’d done before the accident. He had talked about Leona, too, saying he’d been looking for ways to ease some of the burden she and her folks had been faced with since Jacob’s accident. And before he’d hung up the phone, he’d asked Allen to continue praying.

  Jimmy’s truck jerked, then slid to the right, reminding him that the roads were slippery. He pushed his musings aside, determined to concentrate on his driving. In the town of Puyallup, they didn’t get much snow during the winter, but he’d been quick to realize that Lancaster County got more than its share of snow and ice. That meant if he planned to spend the winter here he would need to drive defensively and be prepared to handle his vehicle in all kinds of adverse conditions.

  Soon Jimmy steered his truck up the Weavers’ driveway and parked near the barn, where he discovered a horse and buggy tied to the hitching rail. “I hope Leona or her mother isn’t planning to go anywhere today,” he muttered. The roads were too icy, and even with his studded tires, he had slid in places.

  He stepped out of the truck, hoisted the box into his arms, and headed for the back door, where most of the Weavers’ friends and family entered whenever they came to visit. Shifting the box to one arm, he rapped his knuckles on the edge of the door. A few seconds later, Lydia answered, wearing a dark blue dress covered with a black apron sprinkled with a dusting of flour.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, “but I was wondering if I could speak to Leona.”

  “Jah, sure.” Lydia smiled. “Ever since we finished breakfast, we’ve been baking apple pies, so maybe you’d like to come in and try a piece.” She held the door open, and that was when Jimmy caught sight of Leona standing in the kitchen holding a rolling pin. She, too, had streaks of flour on her dark apron.

  The delicious smell of cinnamon teased Jimmy’s senses and caused his stomach to rumble. “A hunk of pie does sound good,” he said as he stared at Lydia’s daughter. Leona stirred something in him, but he knew that as long as he remained English he could only admire her beauty and strength, never pursue it. I wonder how it would be to come home to her every night. I wonder how it would feel to kiss— Jimmy shook his uninvited thoughts aside and stepped forward. He could appreciate Leona’s lips, which sometimes turned into a cute little smile, but it would be wrong for him to kiss them.

  “I’ve brought you a gift, Leona,” he said, nodding at the box he held. “Consider it an early Christmas present.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, balancing the box on his knees.

  Leona reached for a dish towel and wiped her hands before coming over to the table to join him. Lydia, obviously curious about what was in the box, also headed toward him.

  Jimmy opened the flaps, reached inside, and lifted a very sleepy, very furry red puppy out of the box for Leona’s inspection. “What do you think?”

  “Such a cute dog,” Lydia said excitedly before her daughter could respond. “She looks like Cinnamon when she was a pup. Don’t you think so, Leona?”

  Leona tilted her head and stared at the puppy in such an odd way that it made Jimmy wonder what she was thinking. “Do you like her?” He extended his arms, hoping she would take the animal from him.

  The pup, now fully awake, began to squirm, but Leona sat there unmoving.

  “She’s yours,” Jimmy said. He was beginning to think he’d made a mistake in buying the little Irish setter.

  “She–she’s not Cinnamon, and there isn’t a dog on earth that could take her place.” Leona’s chin quivered, and tears glistened behind her glasses.

  Jimmy was afraid she might run out of the room, so he put the puppy back in the box. “She needs a good home, and I was hoping you would like her,” he mumbled as the little dog whimpered.

  Lydia reached into the box and rubbed the pup’s ears. “Sure is a cute one.” She glanced over at her daughter, but Leona made no comment.

  Lifting the box into his arms, Jimmy stood. “Guess I’d better head back to the pet store and return the puppy.” He nodded at Leona. “I’m sorry for upsetting you. I should have realized it might be too soon.”

  “Jacob’s out in the barn trying to paint one of the stalls, and I’m thinking maybe he would like to have that little critter,” Lydia said. “He’s made friends with nearly every animal on our farm, and I’m sure he’d be glad to have another pet.”

  Leona jumped up, planting both hands on her hips. “No! Papa’s not responsible enough.”

  Lydia clucked her tongue. “Come now, Leona. Your daed’s done real well carin’ for the chickens, horses, and his goat.”

  “If Papa had kept that troublesome goat locked in the pen, he wouldn’t have upset my dog and chased her into the street.” Leona’s voice caught on a sob. “I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again—Cinnamon would still be alive if it weren’t for that goat!”

  Lydia wrapped her arms around her daughter’s trembling shoulders while Jimmy stood there, not knowing what to say
or do. What he’d hoped would be a pleasant surprise for Leona had turned into a messy reminder of the dog she’d lost and her anger toward her dad.

  Guess I’m no one to talk, he thought ruefully. I haven’t forgiven my dad for what he did, either.

  “I’ll put the puppy in my truck and then stop by the barn to see how Jacob’s doing.” Jimmy offered Leona a quick smile and made a hasty exit. He’d only made it halfway across the yard when Leona called out to him.

  “Jimmy, wait!”

  He turned and saw her running through the carpet of frozen leaves on the lawn. “You shouldn’t be out here with no coat,” he admonished. “It’s much too cold for that.”

  “I’ve changed my mind about the pup. It was nice of you to buy it for me, and I’ve decided to keep her, after all.” Leona opened the flap on the cardboard box, and when she lifted the squirming puppy toward her face, it licked the end of her nose.

  Jimmy smiled and took hold of her arm. “Let’s get the two of you inside where it’s warm, and then I think I would like to sample some of your mamm’s apple pie.”

  She looked up at him, and a shadowy dimple quivered in one cheek. “Danki, Jimmy. Danki for being such a good friend.”

  I appreciate your willingness to drive me to town,” Leona said, glancing over at Jimmy. His wrinkled forehead let her know that his concentration was on the slippery road.

  “Glad I could do it. I didn’t think it was safe for you to drive your horse and buggy on these icy roads.”

  She released a tiny laugh. “I’ve handled the buggy in all kinds of weather, but it is much nicer to be taxied into town by such a capable driver.”

  He grunted. “I’m not sure how capable I am. We don’t get much snow or ice during the winter in the town where I grew up. When we do, it usually only lasts a few days.”

  “I appreciate the care with which you’re driving. It makes me nervous to travel too fast, whether it be in a car or a horse-pulled carriage.”

  Jimmy nodded. “You wouldn’t care for my dad’s driving then. He’s one of those ‘I don’t want anyone ahead of me’ kind of drivers.”

  Leona smiled and relaxed against the seat. “I haven’t said much about the time you’ve spent helping my daed relearn to paint, but I want you to know that both Mom and I appreciate it.”

  “I’m hoping if Jacob works around the other painters awhile that it might spark some memories for him.”

  “That would be nice, but I’m not holding my breath.”

  “I’m sure the Lord has a plan for your daed’s life, whether his memory returns or not.”

  “I wish I had your faith—Papa’s, too, for that matter. He’s got all kinds of faith in his ability to paint these days.”

  “Maybe that’s because he thinks like a child. It’s much easier for children to have faith than it is for adults, especially when things aren’t going so well.”

  Leona made no comment, just stared out the window. The barren trees hanging over part of the road looked like bony fingers waiting to snatch away anyone’s joy if they walked underneath. The truth was, it was easier to have faith and believe in miracles when you weren’t the one going through the problem. Jimmy didn’t understand everything she was going through right now. It was bad enough that she’d been trying to come to grips with Ezra’s death, Papa’s childish antics, and her failure as a teacher. Now she had to deal with the swirl of emotions that swept over her whenever she was near Jimmy. Until she’d met him, she’d convinced herself that she would never fall in love again. Now she was afraid she might be falling for the wrong man—an Englisher, no less.

  “So, what are you going to name that new pup?” Jimmy asked, breaking into her disconcerting thoughts.

  She puckered her lips. “Let’s see. . . The puppy’s real soft and fluffy, so I could name her Fluffy.”

  Jimmy wrinkled his nose. “Not masculine enough.”

  “It’s a girl pup,” Leona said with a snicker.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right.”

  “She’s also quite lively and determined.”

  “I’ll say. I couldn’t believe how the little stinker climbed out of that box when we put her in the barn. It was twice as tall as the one I brought her in, but it took a box three times as tall to keep her inside.”

  “That’s how Cinnamon was, too. Always determined to get her own way.”

  Jimmy smacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “Hey, since your last dog was named after a spice, why not call the pup Ginger or Nutmeg?”

  Leona tipped her head as she contemplated his idea. “Ginger. . . I like that. Jah, I’ll call her Ginger.”

  They drove in silence for the next few miles, but as they entered the town of Paradise, Jimmy spoke again. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve been wondering if you think you could be happy if you weren’t Amish?”

  Leona didn’t know what had prompted such a question, but she responded honestly. “I–I’m not sure. I’ve wondered sometimes what it would be like if I were English and could get more education, but it would be hard to leave my folks—especially now, with Papa’s condition to consider. It wouldn’t be right to leave Mom alone to deal with him, either. Besides, if I were to leave, I would be shunned because I’ve already been baptized and joined the church.”

  “I see.”

  She glanced over at him. “What about you? Could you be happy if you weren’t English?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe, but it would take some getting used to.”

  They were nearing the Hoffmeirs’ store now, and Jimmy turned his pickup into the parking lot. “What time would you like me to come back for you?” he asked.

  “I should be done in half an hour or so.”

  “I’ll run a few errands of my own and try to be here by noon. Maybe we can stop somewhere for lunch before we head back to your place.”

  “That’d be nice.” Leona climbed out of the truck, wondering if Jimmy enjoyed being with her as much as she enjoyed being with him. Despite her resolve not to become romantically involved with anyone, she had strong feelings for Jimmy. Is it wrong to have lunch with him? Maybe not. She’d seen many English drivers having lunch with the Amish people they taxied around.

  “You girls can put those books we got in this morning on that empty lower shelf,” Naomi instructed her teenage daughters.

  Sarah reached into the cardboard box to grab a couple of books. “Okay, Mom. We’ll see that it gets done.”

  “What if there isn’t room for all of ’em?” Susan questioned.

  “Then we’ll find space on some other shelf.” Naomi returned to the front counter where a letter she’d received this morning waited to be read. It was from Ginny Nelson, the English friend she’d run away with so many years ago. She hadn’t heard from Ginny in over a year. Tearing the envelope open, Naomi silently read the short note.

  Dear Naomi,

  Sorry for not writing in such a long time, but Chad and I have been busy trying to remodel the fitness center he bought a few years ago—after we moved from Puyallup to Bellevue.

  How are things with you? I don’t suppose you’ve had any word on Zach, or you probably would have written and said so. I still think of your little brother whenever I see a boy with wavy brown hair and eyes the color of dark chocolate. Of course, Zach wouldn’t be a kid anymore, would he? I guess he’d be about twenty-one years old now.

  Naomi set the letter aside and drew in a cleansing breath. Even now, after all these years, the mention of Zach’s name reopened old wounds, making her feel guilty for leaving him on the picnic table. If only we knew where he was. If we just had some assurance that he was alive and doing okay.

  The bell above the front door jingled to announce the arrival of a customer. Leona Weaver entered the store, and Naomi’s husband, Caleb, walked in behind her. Apparently, he’d finished with the errand he had gone out to run awhile ago.

  “Thanks for telling me about
this, Leona,” Caleb said. “It’s important that we keep up on how our kinner are doing in school. If we can do anything to help, please let us know.”

  Naomi was about to ask what Caleb was talking about when Leona turned to her and said, “I came by to speak with you about Millie.”

  Naomi leaned forward, her elbows on the counter. “What about her?”

  “She’s still having trouble in school, and I’ve tried everything I can think of to teach her to read and write, but she doesn’t seem to be getting it.”

  “Maybe we need to work with her more at home,” Caleb suggested.

  Naomi nodded. She’d planned to do that soon after Leona mentioned Millie was having a hard time, but things had been hectic at the store. Since fall had crept in, nearly everyone in her family had taken turns with the flu, which had kept her busier than ever. Then Millie had broken her arm, and Naomi had allowed her to slack off on everything, including homework. “I’ll start reading to her tonight,” she promised.

  Leona shook her head. “Millie doesn’t need to be read to. She needs to learn how to read.”

  Naomi’s defenses rose. She didn’t know why she felt so frustrated whenever Leona mentioned the difficulty Millie was having, but talking about it made her feel as if she had failed her daughter. “I’ll work with her every night until she knows how to read.”

  “I was looking through a magazine while I waited in the dentist’s office the other day, and I came across an article on learning disabilities.” Leona paused and flicked her tongue across her bottom lip. “I think Millie may have dyslexia.”

  Caleb’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s that?”

  “It involves not being able to read or write correctly,” Leona explained. “For some people, the words seem to shake or move. The article said some might even see letters in reverse.”

  “So what can we do about this problem?” he questioned.

  “I’m not sure yet. The article didn’t give much information. I’m planning to discuss the problem at our next teachers’ meeting and see if anyone has had experience in dealing with dyslexia or knows of anything I might try.”