She nodded. “I’m just thinking, is all.”
“Well, don’t think too long. Just pack up your things and let’s go. You’ll be glad to say goodbye to this place.”
“I told you last night that I’m thinking about leaving town—at least for a while. I may go back to Columbus to see my foster parents.”
Jerry’s brown eyes darkened as his nostrils flared. “And I said I don’t want you to go anywhere but with me.” His features softened a bit. “I’d miss you, baby. And you’d miss me too. Ya know you would.”
Michelle twisted a strand of her long auburn hair around one finger. If she stayed in Philly and moved in with Jerry, he’d want more than she was ready to give him. They’d known each other less than a month, and even though Michelle was attracted to Jerry’s good looks, his possessive nature worried her. Almost from the first night they’d met in a pool hall across town, he’d acted as if he owned Michelle. What worried her the most about Jerry, however, was his temper. In her early childhood years, she been the brunt of her parents’ anger, until child services intervened and put Michelle and her brothers, Ernie and Jack, in foster care. Unfortunately, they had not all gone to the same home.
If a person could choose their parents, Michelle would certainly not have picked Herb and Ginny Taylor. Dad abused Mom physically and emotionally, and they both abused their kids. Michelle could still see her father standing over her with his belt raised, an angry scowl on his face over something he’d accused her of doing. He hadn’t aimed for any particular spot. The belt connected wherever it landed, on her legs, arms, and back. He’d treated the boys just as harshly, often smacking them around until bruises or angry welts appeared.
Their mother was no better. She often pulled Michelle’s hair and lashed out in anger. It was usually not because of anything Michelle had done wrong, but rather because Mom was mad at her husband.
One time, when Michelle had defended Ernie for something he’d been unjustly accused of, Mom screamed at Michelle, “Shut your big mouth!” Then she’d grabbed Michelle around the neck and tried to choke her. Fortunately, little Jack started bawling really loud, and Mom came to her senses. She’d never apologized though—just made a few threats and sent Michelle to her room.
Michelle blinked when Jerry waved his hand in front of her face. “Hey, snap out of it. You’re spacing out on me, babe. Now go pack up your things and let’s get outa here before that money-hungry landlord of yours comes to pay you a visit.”
Looking him steadily in the eyes, Michelle thrust out her chin, then vigorously shook her head. “I am not moving in with you, Jerry. So please stop asking.”
He drew closer so that they were nose to nose. “You’re my girl, and you’d better do as I say.”
Michelle couldn’t mistake his tone of agitation, and a familiar fear bubbled in her soul. She took a step back, biting the inside of her cheek. “I—I appreciate the offer, Jerry, but as I said before, I’m not ready to move in with you.” She spoke slowly and kept her voice low, hoping it would calm him.
“Well, ya wanna know what I think, sugar? I think you don’t know what ya want.”
“Yes I do, Jerry, and it … it’s not you.” Michelle didn’t know where her courage came from, but she felt a little braver.
“What do you mean, it’s not me? We’ve been together almost every night since we first met.” His words slurred as he grabbed Michelle’s shoulders and gave her a cruel shake.
“Stop it! You’re hurting me.” She pushed him back.
He sneered at her. “Ya think this hurts? If you leave me, Michelle, you’ll hurt even more. You know you love me, babe.”
Michelle swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. She wanted Jerry to leave but feared his reaction if she ordered him to go.
“Come here and give me some love.” Jerry grabbed her again, and before she could react, he kissed her neck roughly, while holding her arms tightly behind her back. His lips moved from Michelle’s neck to her mouth, and then he pushed her down on the couch. “You’re mine. And don’t you ever forget it.”
Michelle fought against Jerry’s brute strength, and when he wouldn’t let her up, she bit his arm.
“Why, you little—” He cursed and slapped Michelle’s face so hard her head jerked back.
She cried out and somehow managed to wiggle out from under him and off the couch. “If you don’t leave right now, I’ll scream at the top of my lungs for someone to call the cops. And they will too. You can count on it.”
Jerry leapt off the couch and, panting heavily, gave her another hard slap, right where he’d hit her before. Whirling around, he stomped across the room and out the door, slamming it behind him.
Gasping for breath, Michelle ran to the door and bolted it shut. She had to get out of here—not just because she had no money to pay the rent, but to escape the man she’d foolishly gotten involved with.
She dashed to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Her hand immediately went to the red mark quite visible on her face. “Ouch. I do not deserve this kind of treatment—not from Jerry or anyone.”
Wincing, Michelle ran some cool water on a washcloth and dabbed it on the red, stinging skin.
Today was not the first time Jerry had physically abused her, and if she stayed in Philadelphia and kept seeing him, Michelle knew it wouldn’t be the last.
Michelle awoke with a pounding headache. After Jerry left last night she’d had a hard time getting to sleep. Was he right? Should she stay and move in with him? Would that be the sensible thing to do? It would certainly take care of her financial problems.
Michelle shook her head. What am I thinking? He’s a jerk. I need to get away from him now. If I don’t, I could end up in an abusive relationship for the rest of my life.
She pulled herself out of bed and plodded across the room. Staring out the window at the depressing scene, Michelle weighed her options. She was tired of the unexciting view that greeted her every day. Seeing all the buildings surrounding her apartment made her feel closed in. And what little bit of sky she could actually see was dismal, just like her mood. She could either stay here in Philly and keep searching for another job, or get out of town and start over someplace else. One thing was sure: she had to break things off with Jerry. He was a loser and, short of a miracle, he would never treat her with love and respect.
While brushing her teeth, Michelle glanced in the cracked mirror. At least there weren’t any marks left where she’d been slapped, and Jerry hadn’t loosened any of her teeth. Dad had done that once to Mom, and they’d been too poor to go to the dentist.
Shaking her negative thoughts aside, Michelle got dressed and went to the kitchen to fix breakfast. She’d no more than taken out a bowl for cold cereal when a knock sounded on the door.
“Hey babe, let me in. I have somethin’ for you.”
Michelle groaned inwardly. Jerry was back. She figured if she didn’t open the door, he’d keep knocking and wake the whole apartment complex, including her landlord.
She opened the door a crack, but kept the chain bolted. “What do you want, Jerry?”
“Came to say I’m sorry for last night.” He held a pink carnation in his hand. “I wanna start over, darlin’. I promise never to hit you again.”
Yeah, right. Michelle did not have to think about his offer very long. She didn’t trust him not to hit her again. She’d had enough abuse when she was growing up. After hearing the same old assurances from her parents that they were sorry and it wouldn’t happen again, Michelle knew good and well that Jerry would never keep the promise he’d just made.
“Sorry, Jerry, I’m not interested in starting over.” Michelle shut the door in his face.
“You’ll change your mind when you’ve had a chance to think things over,” he called through the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can talk about this again.”
“You can come back if you want, but I won’t be here,” Michelle mumbled under her breath, as she heard his footsteps
fading away. She lifted a hand to her still-tender cheek. “You’ll never do this to me again. Don’t know where I’m headed, but I’m gettin’ out of here tomorrow, one way or the other.”
Chapter 2
Strasburg, Pennsylvania
Mary Ruth Lapp ambled down the driveway to get the mail. She’d meant to go to the mailbox earlier, but it had rained hard most of the day, and she hadn’t felt like going outside. As some of the clouds parted, a glorious sunset appeared with pink, gold, and orange hues. Mary Ruth took in its beauty, while breathing in the fresh after-rain scent.
Some days it was hard to feel positive, with all the terrible things going on in the world, but today wasn’t one of them. Mary Ruth’s spirits soared as she looked toward the trees and listened to the birds singing overhead as they found places to roost for the night. Of course she had always liked the month of June with the fragrance of flowers bursting open all around and mild temperatures that went well with tilling the garden.
Sighing contentedly, Mary Ruth reached the end of the driveway and pulled the mail out of their mailbox. She sorted through several advertising flyers, along with a few bills. There was also a letter addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Willis Lapp, but the return address was missing. In the place where it should have been was a sticky, rough spot, as though the address label had been pulled off.
She bit her lower lip. “Now I wonder who this came from.” Not only was the postmark smudged, so she couldn’t tell where the letter had originated, but parts of their address were unreadable. She was impressed that the post office had managed to deliver it.
Mary Ruth decided to open it right there on the spot, but as she struggled to open the envelope flap, it slipped from her hands, landing on the soggy, wet ground.
“Ach! Now look what I’ve done.” She bent down and scooped up the letter. Unfortunately, the envelope acted like a sponge, turning it somewhat soggy. Wiping it quickly on her dress, Mary Ruth fussed, “Hopefully I saved the inside, and nothing got smudged.”
Despite her curiosity, she decided to wait until she got back to the house to open the envelope. Besides, she was losing daylight, and it would soon be too dark to read.
Back at the house, Mary Ruth placed the bills and junk mail on the kitchen table. Then she sat in a chair and tore the envelope open. Squinting as she read the somewhat blurred words on the page, her heart began to pound. Oh my! This cannot be. After all these years of hoping we would see or hear from our daughter, and now we find out she has died?
Unable to read further, Mary Ruth covered her mouth with the palm of her hand, in an attempt to stifle the sobs. But her shoulders shook, and tears rose to the surface anyway.
Once she’d gained some semblance of composure, Mary Ruth rushed into the living room, where she found her husband asleep in his recliner. “Wake up, Willis! We’ve received some unsettling news.”
He sputtered and snorted with eyes half-closed and reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Please don’t bother me right now, fraa; I’m restin’ my eyes.”
She shook his arm, and when he became fully awake, Mary Ruth waved the letter in his face. “Rhoda’s daughter wrote this letter. She wanted us to know that her mudder—our dochder—passed away two weeks ago from colon cancer.”
Willis snapped to attention, his bushy gray brows lifting high as his eyes opened wide. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s right here in this letter from Sara Murray. If I’m reading it right, she found a letter from Rhoda in an old Bible. The note said Rhoda left home when she was eighteen, and she told Sara about us. Rhoda asked her daughter to tell us how sorry she was for the things she said and did before she ran away from home. She’d been too ashamed to tell us she was expecting a baby.” Mary Ruth paused and dabbed her eyes with a tissue, before taking a seat on the couch. “Oh Willis, how could we not know or even suspect that Rhoda was expecting a boppli? I wonder who the baby’s father was. Do you have any idea, Willis?”
He shook his head. “You know how Rhoda could be. She was very private and kept things to herself. Most young women her age would have brought their boyfriends home to meet her parents. But there was no hint of our daughter being courted by anyone. I’m guessing it may not have been any of the young fellows from our church district. Could have been an English man for all I know. They could have run off together and got married.”
Willis rose from his chair and sat beside Mary Ruth. “It’s hard to accept the fact that we will never see our daughter again in this world, but maybe there’s a chance we can meet our granddaughter.” He reached over and clasped her hand. “Did she include an address or phone number so we can make contact with her?”
Mary Ruth shook her head, then pointed to the soiled letter. “Not that I could see, but she did say she’s coming to meet us and should arrive in the afternoon at the bus station in Philadelphia on the fifth of June. At least, I think that’s the date it says. With all the smudges, plus the missing address label, I have no idea how we can contact Sara.” She leaned closer to Willis, clutching his arm. “Despite the sadness of learning Rhoda has passed away, the letter from Sara does give my spirits a tiny lift. Doesn’t it do that for you, Willis?”
He nodded. “It pains me to realize that our dochder will never walk through our front door again, but it’s good to know the granddaughter we never knew existed wants to meet us. Maybe she can shed some light on who her father is. If Rhoda did marry her baby’s father and he’s still living, then Sara will be able to tell us what we want to know. We might even get the opportunity to meet him sometime.”
Mary Ruth dabbed at some fresh-fallen tears. “I can barely take it all in.” Her chin trembled as she squinted at the blurry words toward the bottom of the damp paper. The ink had run in several places, making the rest of the letter difficult to read. “Do you think Sara is aware that we are Amish?”
“I don’t know, though I would think Rhoda would have told her. May I see the letter?” Willis held out his hand.
She handed it to him. “Some of the words are blurred because I dropped the letter on the wet grass, but June 5th is tomorrow. We need to be at the bus station in Philadelphia to pick Sara up when she arrives.” Tears stung Mary Ruth’s eyes as she squeezed the folds in her dress. “Oh Willis, how could Rhoda have stayed away all those years without telling us she had a child?”
Before he could respond, she hurried on. “My heart aches to realize we will never see our daughter again, but at least we’re being given the chance to meet our granddaughter. It’s like a miracle, don’t you agree?”
“Jah.” Willis’s eyes also glistened with tears. “I’ll need to call one of our drivers right away and see if he can take us to Philadelphia tomorrow.” He looked at the envelope he still held in his hand. “Sure wish she had included a picture so we’ll know who to look for.”
Mary Ruth shook her head. “I don’t need a picture. If she is our Rhoda’s daughter, I’m sure I will know it the minute I see her.”
Philadelphia
As the Lapps’ driver, Stan Eaton, parked his van in the bus station parking lot, Mary Ruth’s stomach tightened. She turned to Willis and gripped his arm. “What if Sara doesn’t know we are Amish? She made no reference to it in her letter—at least the part I was able read clearly. It may come as a shock to her.”
“Now, Mary Ruth, we spoke of this yesterday, and you’re fretting too much. If Sara doesn’t know about her mother’s heritage, she will soon enough.” Willis reached into his pants’ pocket and pulled out the pocket watch he’d had since they got married forty-eight years ago. “According to the afternoon schedule Stan pulled up on his computer for us, the bus should be here soon, if it hasn’t already arrived.”
“That’s right,” Stan called over his shoulder. “But schedules are always subject to change. Your granddaughter’s bus could get here early or it might pull in late.”
Mary Ruth smoothed some imaginary wrinkles from her plain blue dress and made sure there were n
o stray hairs sneaking out from under her head covering. “Do you think Sara will like us, Willis? Will she be comfortable staying in our plain, simple home? Oh, I hope she can be with us for several weeks. It will take at least that long for us to get acquainted, and we’ll want to find out more about Rhoda.”
He patted her hand gently. “Try not to worry, Mary Ruth. I’m sure everything will work out. She probably has as many questions to ask us as we do her.” Willis pushed the button to open the van door. “Now let’s get out and go wait for the bus. I don’t see any sign of one at the moment, so I’m sure it hasn’t gotten here yet. Either that, or it came in early and has already headed out on its next route.”
Mary Ruth opened her door and stepped down. She paused long enough to say a quick prayer, then followed her husband toward the station. When they entered the building, where several people with suitcases milled around, Mary Ruth saw a young woman with long auburn hair standing near the ticket booth.
With excitement coursing through her veins, she caught hold of her husband’s arm. “Oh look! That’s Sara over there.” She pointed. “See, that pretty young woman? Why, she has the same color hair as our Rhoda.” She reached up and patted the sides of her head. “And before gray hairs started creeping in, my hair was a golden red too.”
Willis squinted as he stared at the young woman. “You’re right, Mary Ruth. It’s almost like we’re seeing our dochder back before she ran away from our home.”
Mary Ruth could hardly contain herself. Tears of joy filled her eyes as she and Willis headed in their granddaughter’s direction.
As Michelle approached the booth to purchase her bus ticket to anywhere but Philly, she noticed an Amish couple staring at her. They seemed to be sizing her up.
Michelle’s scalp prickled, and she rolled her eyes. What’s wrong with those two? Surely this isn’t the first time they’ve seen an English woman. Maybe it is the first time they’d been in a bus station though. Could be they aren’t sure what to do.
The Hope Jar Page 2