The Telling
Page 18
Roan smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He glanced at Josiah. “I try to stay out of the master carpenter’s way. From what I’ve heard, the man was born with a hammer in his hand.”
Martin laughed, having heard the same. “He’s the one to turn to if you want an Amish builder in these parts.”
“I’m lucky to have caught him at the right time,” Roan admitted.
“Anymore the Amish around here are having to find work other than farming – farming’s just too costly.”
Roan nodded. “And some have found pretty creative niches for themselves, like making baseball bats.”
Martin was pleased at how well-informed Roan already seemed to be about the area. He wondered how the man had come to take an interest in the Amish.
But Roan obviously had other things on his mind, and he waved at Martin to follow him around the house in progress. “Would you like to hear about the floor plan?” Roan asked. “You have time?”
“Sure do.” As Martin fell into step with him, they also talked of the ingenious ways the Amish workmen were able to get by without electricity, powering their building tools with compressed air pumped by diesel engines. “There’s an Amishman not far from here who builds modular homes in his warehouse – makes ten or eleven a year. It takes only about five weeks to put each one together,” Roan said, walking the area where he said the foundation was to be poured today. “I understand it’s a lucrative family-run business.”
Martin hadn’t heard of that operation. “How big are the houses?”
“Average size is fifteen hundred square feet. The cabinet maker I’m working with told me about the operation.”
Martin pushed his hands into his pants pockets, imitating Roan’s relaxed manner. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you choose to build here, in a mostly Plain neighborhood?”
“Well, my wife and I liked to come here on family trips quite often for years before she passed away.” Roan glanced over his shoulder, then back at Martin. “We’d planned to retire here... always enjoyed this area.”
“It’s about as nice a place as I can imagine living in,” Martin said. “My wife and I grew up in Lancaster County, so we’ve always been near Amish.”
Roan smiled amicably. “A unique people.”
Martin nodded wholeheartedly. “They certainly are. I, for one, admire their work ethic – their honesty, generosity, cordiality... the whole nine yards.”
Roan showed him the location of the well, already dug and installed. “We found it by water witching,” he said, “with the help of a guy named Potato John. Sounds fictitious, doesn’t it?”
Martin grinned. “You’ll hear all kinds of nicknames round here.”
They walked in silence for a while. Then Roan mentioned that his daughter was presently at the nearby natural treatment center for cancer. He pointed in the direction of the Wellness Lodge, which Martin had heard good things about.
“Certainly hope all goes well for her... and for you.”
“Thanks.” Roan offered a warm handshake. “Very nice talking with you.”
“Same here.” No matter how many people he ran into in his line of work, Martin was always amazed whenever he hit it off so well with someone he’d just met. “Feel free to look me up anytime.” He dug into his wallet and pulled out his business card. “I’ll be glad to show you around Lancaster County – have you and your daughter over for dinner sometime.”
Roan’s smile was wide and sincere. He glanced in the direction of the lodge. “We might take you up on that.”
Martin headed back to his van, wondering if Roan had put any money down on the project or even signed a contract with Josiah Smucker. From what he’d heard about such dealings with Amish, the only thing required was a firm handshake.
The old-fashioned way.
While Heather waited for the peppermint oil to take effect, she tried to remain calm. Arielle had retrieved the iPhone from the floor and placed it on the bedside table with a smile when she’d returned with the warm drink. She sat near the bed for a time, not saying much – just offering her presence as comfort. Then, after a while, she got up. “If you feel worse, just call me at the number downstairs, Heather,” she said.
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Heather reached for the phone and cradled it in her hands. Dare she contact Jim? Typically, he was the first to text her each day. But, hey, this is the new millennium, she told herself and sent him a greeting.
Within seconds he replied. Hope your day’s off to a great start. Let me know how it’s going.
Got slammed by my first cleansing crisis, she wrote. Thought I might not make it.
He wrote back: How well I remember. Hang in there – I promise it gets better.
Still feeling too ill to even get out of bed, Heather told Jim she’d actually contemplated trying to find her biological mother. A completely radical thing for me. She sent the text before realizing he didn’t even know she was adopted. Yikes, she thought. But it was too late now.
Soon he wrote again. I’m composing a prayer for you. OK if I send it by email?
Now, this was some way to get a girl’s attention!
I need all the help I can get, she typed quickly and sent it before she could change her mind. The truth was, Heather felt desperate. Staring at her phone, she waited to read Jim’s prayer, written on her behalf... to God.
After ten minutes passed and no email appeared, she filled the time by looking up the Ohio Adoption Registry online, hoping to get information on how to locate her birth parents. From perusing the site, it appeared to be rather easy, although the court records were sealed for adoptions that had occurred between January 1, 1964, and September 18, 1996. She bookmarked the adoption registry site and decided she’d go to a twenty-four-hour copy shop to print the form, then submit it once she was released from the lodge.
If I survive this...
twenty-seven
With the last of the lambs birthed and thriving, Judah could finally turn his energies to fattening them up for market. And tomorrow, what with the sunniest weather in days, he hoped to begin raking hay. Most every neighbor in the community was already doing so, including Andy Riehl and his boys up the way. Only the Spanglers were not, because they didn’t work the soil or raise animals for a living. It crossed his mind that Lettie should go over and visit Carole Spangler. The woman had been so upset on the road, in the pitch-darkness. He made a mental note to ask his wife to look in on her. But no, Lettie might not be the best choice just now. Grace was the one he would ask.
He had seen Lettie and Mandy at work in the vegetable garden earlier, and he’d stopped what he was doing to admire his wife, mighty glad she was home. Despite his initial negative response to her shocking secret, his mind had cleared swiftly – a real change of heart. The Good Lord’s doing.
Judah had been praying about the types of questions the bishop might ask Lettie during her confession. That day was coming too soon for his liking. Yet his wife was unwavering in her decision to do so in public, despite grave concern from her mother. Nevertheless, Judah would not stand in Lettie’s way, not when she felt so certain of the Lord’s leading. She had never been one to put too much stock in the opinions of others. No, his wife was unlike any Amishwoman he’d ever known.
Even so, she’s mine, Judah thought with a chuckle before he turned back to mucking out the barn.
Heather was relieved when LaVyrle came into her room that afternoon to reassure her that what she was experiencing was not uncommon.
“Before bed tonight, help yourself to an extra serving of the veggie broth,” LaVyrle suggested kindly.“It will keep your electrolytes up.” She explained that Heather was losing more bodily fluids than usual, and the broth provided an important sodium-potassium balance.
Heather recalled the powdered broth she had earlier mixed with hot water.It had a pleasant, satisfying taste, but she now wondered aloud if she had the energy to even navigate her way to the kitchen area where it was stored.
Heather was surprised this had already been discussed. “What did Dad say?”
LaVyrle smiled readily. “He agreed rather quickly.”
Interesting...
“Given his initial hesitation, it’s very nice your dad’s become so supportive,” said the naturopath. “Quite remarkable, really.”
Heather agreed, noticing how LaVyrle’s eyes sparkled when she mentioned her dad. What’s going on here – a budding romance? The thought was a bit awkward, but if Dad was bouncing back from his deep grief, she was happy for him.
“Thanks for discussing Sally’s idea with Dad,” she said. “Maybe I’ll find some time to return to working on my thesis while I’m there. I feel like I’ve been derailed.”
“I won’t be surprised if you’re feeling well enough to start working on it again soon.” LaVyrle squeezed her hand. “I can see the fight in your eyes... you want to live.”
“I’m trying hard; I really am.”
“I know you are, Heather. And that goes a long way toward getting your health back.”
“Thanks.” As she watched LaVyrle leave, it was all she could do not to call after the woman and thank her again for this amazing opportunity.
Heather was just awakening from a surprisingly restful sleep when she heard the pronounced chime signaling a new email. Hoping it was from Jim, she opened it quickly, still groggy from her nap.
Hey, Heather:
Here’s the prayer I wrote and am praying for you. Rest assured God is there with you.
Concerned, yet trusting Him,
– Jim
She began to read his poetic prayer....
A Prayer for Heather
Lord, You know well my friend.
You see her tears,
You hear her cries,
You alone understand her fears...
because You made her,
crafted her in Your very image.
Grant her persistence for this difficult journey,
help for the long night
and stamina for the fight.
Thanks for being with her... always.
Surround her with divine guidance and light.
Be her healing presence
and her constant friend.
Bless her abundantly with You,
the best of gifts.
Amen.
Heather’s tears flowed freely. The prayer was the kindest, dearest thing a guy had ever done for her. This Jim... he’s really something, she thought.
She wanted to read it again but first wiped her eyes dry. The kind of trust apparent in his words was mindboggling to her. Jim patently believed this stuff.
How can I thank him? She scrolled down to reread the final lines. The fact he’d written the prayer in free verse had also caught her attention. Since coming to the lodge, she’d occasionally taken a similar approach to her daily journal. To think he took the time to do this...
She caught herself. Am I falling for this guy?
Her feelings were a mix of emotions as she let his prayer saturate her heart, bringing a momentary peace. After a time, she emailed Jim a thank-you, hoping he might know how sincerely appreciative she was.
The lights were on at the Spanglers’ house after supper as Grace walked down the road with a loaf of homemade bread and apple butter. Dat had asked this afternoon if she might look in on their neighbors, a solemn expression on his sunburnt face. He’s concerned for them.
At the time, she’d wondered why he hadn’t asked Mamma, but then, considering that Dat might not want her mother exposed to the neighbors’ questions, Grace understood.
The sky was a slate gray and growing darker by the minute. Hopefully this evening would find Carole and her girls – Grace’s friend Jessica, especially – at home. She asked God to help her encourage Jessica and her family. You know just what they need, dear Lord.
As it turned out, Carole was away from the house. “At a Bible study,” Jessica said, then thanked her for the “treats,” as she called the bread and apple butter. She placed both on the kitchen counter.
“Oh, it’s nothin’,” Grace said.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Grace. You should see Brittany and me devour your fresh-baked bread.”
“That’s nice to hear. Denki.”
They headed upstairs to Jessica’s room, and when her friend closed the door, she leaned against it. “I’m really glad you came, Gracie.”
“I’ve been thinking ’bout you.”
“Well, you might be surprised – and happy to know – that my fiancé and I have started taking premarital classes since the last time we talked. We’re receiving a lot of practical counsel.”
“Oh?” Grace had never heard of such classes. Their Amish church district gave no counseling either before or after marriage that she knew of.
“I wanted to take the classes because of my fears over my parents’ problems,” Jessica added quickly.
Grace was reticent to ask about that.
“Actually, it’s become a blessing – what Quentin and I are doing for our upcoming marriage. We’re addressing potential problems ahead of time... so we’ll know how to tackle things that could threaten our love.” Jessica’s eyes grew more serious. “Quentin and I are becoming best friends because of it.”
Jessica led her to the computer desk across the room and got online to show her several places she and her fiancé were considering for their honeymoon – several featured ocean settings Grace found most appealing.
“Oh, I should have asked... but did you get to visit your mom while she was in Ohio?” Jessica said after she’d closed down the travel pictures.
Grace told her about the quick trip with another English friend, then shared with her the big surprise of Mamma’s recent return.
“Oh, Gracie... what a relief!” Jessica frowned suddenly. “I felt badly that I couldn’t take you... and Mom was so worried about... well, Dad.”
Ach, we all had our worries.
They headed back down to the kitchen, where Jessica toasted two pieces of the homemade bread and spread the rich apple butter, giving a slice to Grace. “Amish-made bread is the best,” Jessica said. “Brittany and I will make quick work of this.”
After she’d enjoyed the toast along with Jessica, Grace said she had to return home for family worship. “I’d better be goin’.”
“Come anytime,” Jessica called after her.
On the walk home, Grace was relieved Jessica hadn’t asked her about her own romantic prospects – not that Jessica was so nosy as to inquire. But Grace wouldn’t have known what to say, since Yonnie had so quickly exited her life and was working for his father now.
She breathed in the minty scent of the lavender-blue catmint from a nearby garden. The night was filled with the familiar sound of crickets. Yet, staring into the darkness, Grace realized she no longer enjoyed walking alone. And she missed seeing Yonnie around the house and barn... especially during the noon meal.
Just then it dawned on her that Mamma didn’t even know of her breakup with Henry Stahl! After the reservations she expressed to me ’bout him, no doubt she’d be glad about it. Then Grace laughed into the night. “But she’d like Yonnie, that’s for sure!”
Too bad Mamma hadn’t been around to see Yonnie help fill the bird feeders or to hear him talk a blue streak with Dawdi Jakob at dinner. Or to observe him carrying a stack of dishes to the sink. Truly, Yonnie was unlike any other fellow she’d known.
Right then, Grace wished she might see him again, especially before the Preaching service. When Mamma confesses...
twenty-eight
The sky was past its twilight the next evening when Heather’s father came to visit. “I’m
sure you’re tired, kiddo, so I’ll only stay a short while.” He kissed her forehead and they settled into a private corner of the comfortable commons area, green with a wealth of indoor plants to keep the air rich with oxygen.
“The peppermint oil is helping,” she told him. “Magical stuff.”
“I’m glad.” He looked tired, but she could tell he was making an effort for her.
They talked about the perfect weather for pouring the foundation. Like everything else thus far, this aspect of the project had gone very smoothly.
“How soon before the framing will begin?” she asked.
“A week.” He crossed his legs, and she noticed his hands were trembling slightly on his knee. “Heather, how are you doing... really?”
“Dad, please don’t worry.”
“Well, fathers tend to do that.”
She forced a smile. “What I’ve experienced is fairly normal. Some patients just have worse reactions than others.”
He frowned and still appeared to be worried.
“I’ve started to wonder if Mom’s death sapped my health somehow.” She didn’t mention the shock and subsequent heartache over her breakup with Devon Powers.
“Lots of folk have unresolved issues, but those don’t necessarily affect their physical health,” said Dad.
“I think that’s debatable. I’ve been learning a lot here about stress and how it affects the body.” She explained some of what she’d gleaned in LaVyrle’s daily classes – how she’d read that stress was the number-one killer in the country. “We have quite a lively daily question-and-answer time.”
Dad chuckled. “I’ll bet you do.” He slipped his arm around her. “And I can see your point about stress. I’ve definitely been one to internalize it.”
“Don’t we all?”
“You’re getting excellent care here.”
She nodded and decided to test the waters. “Yes... and it’s hard to believe the good doctor is single.”
“Actually, she was married once... years ago. Her husband died of a rare form of leukemia, which is the main reason for her work here at the lodge. She wants to help as many people as possible.”