by Leslie Gould
He threw the sandpaper on the floor. And if he could use an electric sander, he wouldn’t be rubbing off his fingertips.
“Zane?” It was Mom, standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at him, her coat still on and holding a pot with oven mitts.
Mom’s eyes were full of concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“What’s going on?”
“Lots.” Where would he start? He’d tell her about the conversation with the insurance agent later. He jerked his head toward the living room. “What’s with Lila? Is she taking too many pain meds?”
“No,” Mom said. “We’ve been regulating them carefully.”
“She’s all wiped out—like she can’t stay awake.”
“Her pain is still really bad. Plus she needs to sleep to heal.”
“Is there another bottle of pain meds? Because she’s almost out.”
“There’s one in the cupboard in the kitchen. She usually only takes half the prescribed dose—the whole dose is sometimes too much.”
“Okay,” Zane said. At least she wasn’t taking as much as he feared.
Mom said the soup was from one of the Amish ladies and then put the pot on the stove. Zane picked up the sandpaper and started sanding the molding along the door, thinking about what he wouldn’t give for a Shop-Vac to clean everything up.
Lila slept for the rest of the evening and only woke enough to eat some soup. Finally, around eight, Zane headed back over to his parents’ house to eat there, leaving Mom with Lila.
Trevor was still asleep on the sofa when he arrived. Dad was sitting with Adam at the kitchen table, helping him with his homework. Without saying hello, he nodded toward Trevor and then asked his dad what was going on.
“I don’t know,” Dad said. “I’m guessing he’s tired.”
Adam closed his math book.
“Sorry, Bub,” Zane said. “Were you done?”
“Yep. I just have my reading. I’ll do that upstairs.”
Once Adam left the room, Zane sat down and told Dad about the conversation with the insurance agent.
“Is Lila sure she didn’t pull to the left?”
“Yes,” Zane answered. “And I believe her. She’s cautious and methodical when she drives. But she’s doubted herself some, because of what the other driver said.” Zane shook his head. “She’s really not herself.”
“Give her time,” Dad said. “And space. That’s what I needed after my injury. It’s what you needed too.”
Zane exhaled. His dad was right. Lila had encouraged him through that time. He needed to do his best to encourage her now.
Dad grabbed his cane from where it hung on the table edge and stood. “But it sounds as if the insurance company might be trying to take advantage of her, maybe even manipulate her memory.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Zane answered. “I thought maybe I could talk with that lawyer who does pro bono work sometimes.”
“Brad Garrett?”
Zane nodded, remembering when he’d met the man a couple of years ago. He’d been impressed with him then.
Dad smiled a little as he leaned on the cane and pushed himself up out of the chair. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d be happy to give you some advice. Do you think Tim would be all right with that?”
Zane shrugged.
“Don’t go behind Tim’s back,” Dad said.
“I want justice for Lila.”
Dad cocked his head. “That’s not really the Amish way though, is it? They’d probably rather pay her expenses out of the mutual aid fund than get involved in any lawsuit.”
Zane shrugged again. When he’d wrangled with whether he could live as a pacifist or not, he’d thought through the fighting part of it. He hadn’t thought through a case like this, through the legal side of it.
“I know you’ve always held yourself and others to a high standard as far as doing the right thing, but you’re living under different rules now.” Dad took a step toward the kitchen doorway. “You should probably talk with Gideon or someone else in the church before you talk with Brad.”
Zane didn’t respond to his father. Instead he stared at his chapped and scraped hands for a long moment. Construction work was taking its toll. He should wear his gloves more often. Finally he stood and dished up some soup—beef barley—from the pot Mom had left on her stove and sat back down at the table. As he shoveled the food into his mouth, Trevor wandered into the kitchen, bleary eyed.
“What’s for supper?” he asked.
Zane tilted his nearly empty bowl so Trevor could see. “Soup. It’s on the stove.”
Trevor retrieved a bowl from the cupboard, filled it, and sat across from Zane. “Who’s hanging out with Lila tonight?”
“Mom.”
“Is Rose there?”
Zane wrinkled his nose. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered.”
After Lila mentioned her concern about Trevor and Rose on Sunday, Zane had brought up the topic with Trevor on the way to work on Monday. Trevor had assured Zane he had no interest in her.
One of the reasons Mom thought Trevor should stay at Eve and Charlie’s was so he’d be away from Rose, saying Tim wouldn’t feel comfortable having a stranger staying so close. Zane thought she was being paranoid, but he had to admit now she’d probably been wise in her judgment. And maybe he’d been too quick to believe Trevor on Monday morning.
Zane put his spoon in the bowl and pushed back a little from the table. “What’s going on with you?”
Trevor blushed, which he didn’t do very often.
Zane exhaled. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for Rose.” What a nightmare that would be. “You said you wouldn’t.”
Trevor shook his head. “Of course not. She’s beautiful though. And her innocence is appealing.”
Zane crossed his arms, alarmed, and cleared his throat.
“Don’t worry—I didn’t mean it that way. I meant she’s spunky and fun. Not the way I imagined an Amish girl to be—not at all.” He blushed again. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“I always thought you were crazy to fall for an Amish girl, but now I get it.”
Zane shook his head. “No, you don’t get it. Leave Rose alone. She and Reuben are courting.” He wouldn’t mention that they seemed to be stressed. “Hopefully they’ll marry soon. You’d only hurt her.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Trevor took a bite of the soup and then said, “Maybe I’ll head back home sooner than I thought.”
“You said you planned to stay.”
Trevor held his spoon in midair. “I appreciate Charlie and Eve’s hospitality, but it’s awkward staying there. I don’t know them, and their baby cries a lot.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Being here has made me feel more isolated—not less.”
“Isolated?” He was around people all the time.
“Yeah, I’m the outsider. I see what you have with Lila. I see your family. I see you with your dad, something I never really had—I mean, he was there . . . but not really. I see Rose’s family. The other Amish people who have brought meals over.” He shrugged. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“And it makes you feel isolated?”
He nodded. “And it’s not just that I’ll never have anything like this. It’s that you all dress the same. Drive the same buggy. Live in white houses with flowers planted all around. You really know how to make a guy feel like an outsider.” He took another spoonful of soup.
Zane thought about what Trevor said. He wasn’t sure how to explain it but he had to try. “We appear the same for the sake of modesty.”
“Yeah, I get that. The women hide behind those dresses.”
“No, that’s not it,” Zane said. “We all aim to practice modesty. It shows we identify with each other, that we’ve chosen to be part of a Plain community. That’s why our buggies look alike too—no one can flaunt their money by having something much nicer. S
ame with the houses. We don’t want to call attention to ourselves, to insinuate one person is better than another. We all have value in God’s eyes. We’re all equal to him.”
Trevor shook his head a little and then said, “Yeah, whatever. I’ll stick with my car—red and fast.” He smiled.
Zane shrugged. In all of his frustration lately, he was still grateful he’d chosen to identify with the Amish. He appreciated both the outward and inward commitment to God, family, and community, instead of to individualism. Sure, competition was normal between people, but there wasn’t the same sort of everyone-for-himself competition he’d experienced as an Englischer. He appreciated the way they took care of each other through life’s trials.
Trevor swallowed another spoonful of soup and said, “I’ll go back home in a month or so. Maybe I’ll find a job in construction. Sit around and drink on the weekends.”
Zane raised his eyebrows. “I thought you’d stopped drinking.”
“Yeah, well. I have. Mostly.”
“It’s not anything to mess with.”
Trevor shrugged. “What can I say? I’m pathetic.”
“Have you been drinking recently?”
Trevor pushed his chair back. “I was just joking—don’t get all righteous with me.” He leaned back in the chair. “I should probably get over my fear of commitment and try to work things out with Sierra. Maybe we can get back together, get married, start a family. Maybe she’ll back off and stop nagging me all the time. Maybe I can have a little bit of what you have. Except I won’t have everyone in the county helping me like you do. I’ll barely have my dad’s help.”
“What about going back to school? With the G.I. Bill.”
Trevor brought the chair back down. “I’ve never liked school.”
“You could use it for a vocational program. There are all sorts of possibilities. You can talk to one of the counselors at the Veterans Center.”
Trevor shrugged. “I guess I’m in a funk is all.” He held up his spoon. “I’ll finish this and get out of your way.”
“Take your time.” Zane stood and took his empty bowl to the sink. “I’m going to get to bed.” Maybe a good sleep would help him feel better.
Zane started to head up the stairs but realized he hadn’t asked Trevor what time he’d come by to pick him up in the morning. He backtracked, stepping back into the kitchen. Trevor’s back was to him, but he held a flask.
Zane exhaled. “You weren’t joking.”
Trevor turned around, putting the cap back on the flask as he did. “Looks like you caught me.”
“You promised not to drink here.”
He slipped the flask into his pocket. “I didn’t. Not until today.”
“How much have you had?” Zane asked.
“Not much.” He patted his pocket.
Zane wasn’t sure what to do.
“Look,” Trevor said. “I really am sorry. I’ll work for another couple of weeks and then give my notice. I’d leave sooner, but I’m going to need the reference.”
Zane nodded. “We need to talk with Dad about the drinking.”
Trevor frowned. “I’ll talk with Charlie tonight and ask him to hold me accountable. You and your dad have enough to deal with right now.”
Zane hesitated and then said, “Talk with Charlie.” He held out his hand. “But give me the flask.”
“Good idea,” Trevor said, handing it over.
For half a second Zane thought maybe he understood the appeal. He could use some numbing himself at the moment. Instead he poured the alcohol—whiskey—down the sink and dropped the flask into the garbage.
“I’m just going to go over and tell your mom thanks for supper,” Trevor said. “Then I’ll get going. I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”
“Thanks,” Zane said. “I appreciate it. But don’t bother going over to tell Mom thanks. She probably already has Lila down for the night. She might be getting ready for bed. Besides, one of the Amish ladies made it anyway.”
“All right,” Trevor answered. “See you tomorrow. And listen, I’m sorry. Really.”
Zane nodded, walked Trevor to the door, and then waited on the porch as his friend drove away. Trevor would go back to Delaware. Marry Sierra. And maybe he would be a father in a year or so, if he straightened up.
A father. As much as it would hurt Zane not to be a father, he knew not being a mother would hurt Lila even more, but he wasn’t going to give up on them being able to have children.
But maybe Lila had, from that one ambiguous conversation with the doctor. Maybe that was why it seemed she was so distant. That or the pain pills. Or maybe she was trying to numb herself from the uncertainty that the future held. Or perhaps his mom was right, and she needed the meds to get through her pain.
He felt as if he was failing her, day by day. He couldn’t take care of her. He couldn’t take her pain away. He didn’t understand what this new level of being Amish meant for him. This level of not fighting for justice. Of trusting God and the district to provide over a hundred fifty thousand dollars when the insurance company should be responsible for paying.
He’d use the rest of his savings to buy a new buggy. He wasn’t going to dwell on the injustice of that. It didn’t matter.
But he would talk to the lawyer. If the insurance company didn’t pay, he’d accept whatever help the mutual aid fund could offer. And then he’d contribute as much as he could to it every month for the rest of his life.
12
A draft of cold air in the little house awakened Lila. She opened her eyes, expecting Zane. Instead Trevor was closing the front door. She raised the backrest a little. “What are you doing here?”
He spun around. “Good morning,” he said. “I’m looking for Shani.”
“She might be in the kitchen.”
“I’ll check.” He disappeared through the archway to the kitchen and then returned a couple of minutes later. “She must be upstairs,” he said. “Listen, I can’t stick around. I’m picking up Zane for work. Would you tell Shani thanks for the soup last night? It was delicious.”
“Sure.” Lila was beginning to feel annoyed with Trevor, except that his giving Zane rides was a big help. She was grateful for that. “Tell Zane hello.” He usually came over every morning before work, but maybe he was still out of sorts from their conversation with the insurance agent.
Trevor said that he would and then asked, “Is Rose helping today?”
“Jah.” Sometimes it was hard to keep track of everyone’s schedule. Shani was going to work. Joel was already helping with the milking. Rose would be over within the hour, after she cleaned up from breakfast. Dat would take Trudy to school today.
“Tell her hello.” Trevor waved and then hurried out the door.
A few minutes later, the door flew open, allowing another cold draft of air to pierce the cozy house, and Zane hurried toward her.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” Lila said.
“I overslept,” he answered. “Trevor’s waiting with his car running so I only have a minute.” He stopped at the side of the bed and took her hand. His was warm even though it was cold outside. “I want to talk with you sometime soon,” he said.
Her stomach sank. He sounded so serious. “All right,” she answered.
“It’s important.” He had that intense look he used to have a lot, but hadn’t as much in the last year.
She nodded. “I’ll be here.” The joke was getting old.
“I’ll see you then.” He hurried out the door.
After Shani helped Lila dress for the day, she took the pillbox into the kitchen to fill it for the day. A minute later she came back in. “Where’s your other bottle of pain meds?”
“You said they are in the kitchen cupboard.”
“They’re not there,” Shani said. “Did Rose move them?”
“She didn’t say anything,” Lila said.
“We need to find the bottle.” Shani appeared concerned. “I can get another refill at the p
harmacy, since you haven’t been taking the full dose, but this isn’t good.”
“I’m sure they were just misplaced,” Lila answered. “I’ll ask Rose.” She wanted to be done with the pain meds, but she couldn’t sleep without them, and her pain levels were high during the day too. The doctor said she’d heal faster if she wasn’t fighting the pain all day long, but Lila still wanted to stop taking the meds soon.
Soon after Shani left for work, Rose arrived. Lila told her about the missing pain meds.
“I haven’t seen them,” Rose said. “Shani must have misplaced them.”
Lila doubted that. “Could you get me a couple ibuprofen?” Hopefully they would be enough to help her tolerate the pain.
Rose complied. When she returned, after Lila swallowed the two pills, Rose asked, “Have you seen Trevor this morning?”
“Jah, he stopped by. And he was in the kitchen by himself.”
“You’re not insinuating he took the meds, are you?” Rose’s face grew red as she spoke.
“I’m just saying he was in the kitchen.” Lila raised her gaze to meet Rose’s.
Her sister put her hands on her hips. “Maybe the meds are making you paranoid.”
Lila doubted that. She wouldn’t bother to tell Rose that Trevor had said to tell her hello. Lila asked about how Trudy was that morning.
“A little out of sorts,” Rose said. “I told her she could come visit after school.”
“And how is Dat?”
“Missing Beth,” Rose answered. “He’s been really quiet.”
“He hasn’t been over,” Lila said. “Not once. I think he’s avoiding me.”
“No, not on purpose.” Rose sank down into the recliner. “He’s just . . . a little lost.” Rose looked a little lost herself as she spoke, her eyes taking on a faraway look.
Lila couldn’t imagine Dat staying away if Rose or Trudy were injured. He’d provided for her all these years, that was true, and she was very grateful. But there had always been something missing. He had come to see her in the hospital, but now he’d disappeared.
She pulled her mother’s quilt up to her chin as best she could, without tugging on the fixator.