A Little Bit of Charm (33 page)

Maybe it was due to Sarah's tender ministrations, coming on the heels of the bishop's patient counsel, but Rachel burst into tears.

“Goodness, should I send Isaac for the doctor or maybe call nine-one-one?” Sarah wrung her hands in her apron. “Can I help you to your room to lie down?”

“Neither, but I would love a cup of coffee if there's any left from lunch.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “And maybe a slice of pie
might help too, if those aren't already spoken for.” Slumping onto a chair, she caught Sarah's skeptical expression.

“So you're not still sick, but you are crying. I take it things didn't go well at Bishop Mast's?”

Rachel buried her face in her hands. “You could say that.”

Sarah placed two mugs of coffee on the table before sitting down with the pie, two plates, two forks, and a knife. “Did he bawl you out for going to an English church when we have a perfectly fine Mennonite one in Charm?”

“
Nein
. He was very kind and patient with me.” Rachel words sounded muffled from beneath her hands.

“Then I suppose you didn't tell him what you've been doing—dating an
Englischer
. And not just any
Englischer
, but your boss of all things. That's the stuff they make into bad television shows.” Wrinkling her nose, Sarah attacked the pie with her sharp blade.

Rachel peered up, dabbing her face with a paper napkin. “No, I told him the truth. I asked him questions about the Baptist faith and how it differs from the Amish and Mennonite.”

“And what he said made you cry?” She slid large slices onto plates. “I told you not to monkey around tempting the Lord's disfavor.” Sarah handed Rachel one of the mugs.

“Actually, he explained there's not that much difference between the Christian sects in theology.”

Sarah tilted her head to one side. “Then why are you sobbing as though the world were about to end?”

“Because my world is about to. The big difference comes with the Amish lifestyle compared to the English. The bishop made me realize I can't just turn Baptist. I would have to leave behind everything and everyone I know and love.” A floodgate of tears opened anew.

“You don't want to stop being Amish?”

“I don't. That's why I'm miserable. I'm in love with Jake Brady, and I don't want to be.” Rachel cut off a piece of pie with her fork,
but it tasted dry and flavorless on her tongue. She swallowed it down with a gulp of coffee.

Sarah could have said “I told you so,” or “See what happens when you don't take
grossmammi's
advice?” But she didn't. Instead, her eyes grew moist and shiny. “Eat more pie. That usually helps when I'm upset with life.” She sipped her coffee with a face filled with pity.

Rachel tried another bite, noticing this time the crust tasted far less dry. “I didn't want to fall in love with him, Sarah. It just happened.”

“That's why you shouldn't date
Englischers
. Stuff like that happens when a person's young.”

Rachel scraped the remaining apples from the crust. “You talk as though you're fifty years old.”

“I'm old enough to know that broken hearts heal with time. You would be shocked at how fast too.” Sarah pushed the pie pan across the table. “What are you going to do—quit your job? That's what I would recommend.” She began to devour her slice.

“No, I love my job. I don't want to leave Twelve Elms.”

“You can't live in two worlds forever, Rachel. Sooner or later you will have to choose. Why prolong your misery? Look at you—shedding tears all over my fresh-baked apple pie.”

Rachel waited until they had both finished eating before answering. “I'll never have a job like this again. I love working with horses.” Emotion began to clog her throat as her limbs grew weary. “But I will certainly break up with Jake. He's not my boss anymore since I was promoted to exercise girl. With any luck, once I make it clear we can't be friends he and I will rarely cross paths.” She lifted her eyes to meet her cousin's gaze.

Sarah sighed. “It's not luck you need, but the providence of the Lord. He is the only one who can help you heal.”

“Truly, Sarah, I'll be fine at the stable. But if I'm uncomfortable, then I'll quit.” A large tear dripped from her chin.

“I trust your judgment. If you're feeling okay, why not come to church with Isaac and me tomorrow? Maybe we'll go visiting in the afternoon, somewhere where there are young men who are your own kind. Right now, go upstairs and take a nap. You look terrible. I don't need help fixing dinner. I can cook chicken and dumplings in my sleep.” She sprang up, the girl-time drawing to a close.

“You and Isaac are silver-tongued flatterers. He told me I looked like a ghost.” Rachel set her plate and mug in the sink.

“Isaac said that? Used the word ‘ghost'? There's no such thing.” Sarah dug in the cupboard for her big pot.

“There was a plastic one hanging from the ceiling in Kmart. Apparently she and I are dead ringers.” Rachel patted Sarah's shoulder on her way out of the kitchen. “
Danki
for cutting up the pie early.”

“What are cousins for?” Sarah cast her one last solemn look.

Up in her room, Rachel slipped off her apron and shoes and then crawled beneath the quilt with her dress on. She closed her eyes, but despite her fatigue, sleep refused to come. The enormity of what she'd just admitted to Sarah, along with what lay ahead, welled up inside her. She would have to look Jake in the eye and say they had no future together. His being English made all the difference in the world. Christians might all be the same under the skin, but being Plain was a lifetime of choices. Choices that kept them separate from others. How ashamed she felt to have encouraged his attentions…ashamed and selfish.

All the sweet apple pie in the world couldn't take that bitter taste away.

The last person Donna expected to hear from on a rainy Tuesday morning was an Amish tour guide.

“Hello, Donna? This is Rachel King.”

She leaned back from her daunting stack of case files and focused out her steamy window, not seeing anything. “How are you, Rachel?”

“I'm fine now, but I had a bad cold recently. Thank goodness, it wasn't polio,
jah
? While I was sick in bed I thought about you. How is your project coming along to vaccinate folks?”

Donna thought about what to say and opted for complete honesty. “Not that well, I'm afraid. Folks heard that the sick little girl might have caught the virus from a health care worker and they don't wish to cooperate.”

“Is that how she got sick?”

“We don't know. We'll probably never know for sure, but it's possible. I've done more research on the topic and realized that regardless of where the child contracted it, this situation is very serious. Plain folks cannot afford to ignore polio or other communicable diseases any longer.”

“Dear me, I'd hoped for better news. I told my grandmother about meeting you and about the four positive tests for polio here in Charm. She still remembers when state authorities came to Pennsylvania and set up clinics all over town. About a third of the folks got the shots, including my granny.”

“Your grandmother lives in Lancaster?”

“Yes, ma'am. I am visiting a cousin who lives here.”

Donna's head swam with ideas. “I need another audience with the Mennonite bishop. Do you think you or Sarah could arrange this again? He and I need to discuss this, and I'd love to have you there too.”

There was the briefest of hesitations. “Sure. Why don't you come talk to Sarah and me today. I will be going back to work tomorrow.”

Donna consulted her day planner of staff meetings and routine appointments with lab techs and then shut the book. “When would you like me to come?”

“How about now? Sarah and I are cleaning house. Any excuse that takes us away from that would be fine with us.” The young woman giggled.

Checking her watch, Donna scrambled to her feet. “I can be at the Stolls' in thirty minutes or less.”

“We'll be ready with a pot of coffee. If you're lucky, maybe one of the pumpkin pies will be ready to eat.”

“I'm plenty lucky just to have met you, Rachel, with or without pumpkin pie.”

When Donna pulled up at the chicken farm's back door, the two women walked onto the porch, dressed in heavy wool with full bonnets. The offer of refreshments appeared to have been rescinded. “Good afternoon,” she called, opening the car door. But before Donna could step out, they bustled down the steps and climbed inside her sedan—Sarah into the backseat again, with Rachel up front. “Does this mean we're calling on Bishop Mast today?”

“I thought you said you needed to talk to him,” Sarah said, slamming the car door twice as hard as necessary.

“I do, but I assumed it must be arranged in advance—”

“It's Tuesday. Where would a farmer be in December? I called his
fraa
. She said he's home. I said we would come, so let's get going. I don't like leaving my chickens alone for too long.”

Rachel pivoted on the seat just enough to reveal her smile. “Even better than pumpkin pie and coffee,
jah
?”

“Definitely,
jah
. Thank you, Sarah. Off we go.”

When they arrived at the small, modest farm, the bishop's wife met them at the door. “It's too cold for the porch today. Go sit in the living room, although there won't be much of a fire until the evening. I'll holler out to James in the barn.” Mrs. Mast pointed down the hallway with a thin finger. “Don't bother hanging up your coats. You probably won't be staying that long.”

Sarah led the way, while Rachel and Donna exchanged an
amused look. Once they were seated in the austere front room, they had only minutes to wait.

Bishop Mast entered the room with a stiff gait. “Mrs. Cline, Sarah,” he greeted. “Good to see you again so soon, Rachel.” He patted the young woman's shoulder on his way to the rocking chair. He waited to address Donna until he had lowered himself to the cushioned seat. “I suppose you bring me news about the sick little girl. Is she any better?”

Visions of the medical review board swam through Donna's head. She could lose her job for divulging protected medical information to the public, yet the child's mother assured her she wanted no one to contract this virus from her daughter or anyone else. “The child is quarantined in an undisclosed medical facility, where she receives treatment for her immune deficiency disorder. She hasn't yet developed paralytic polio.”

“Thanks be to the Lord,” said the bishop. The three women echoed his sentiments.

“But due to her weakened resistance, her body hasn't been able to shed the virus either, which is usually what happens by now. It's hidden in her bloodstream, but it can be spread to others.”

“For how long?”

“It can hide for years, unless doctors can strengthen her body's immune system to fight off the virus. No one will be allowed in contact with her who hasn't been vaccinated.”

Sarah shifted on her chair. “Did her family get the shots?”

“They have.” Donna glanced at Sarah and then back at the bishop.

“Some people think she caught it in the hospital from a doctor or nurse.” The bishop's tone was as smooth as warm milk. “Unfortunately, many will be even more reluctant to trust English hospitals.”

“She very well could have caught it from a health care worker, or from another child in the hospital, but in the end, it doesn't
matter for those of the Plain faith. You cannot separate yourselves from the world—not in this day and age.”

“How can you say it doesn't matter?” He stopped rocking.

“Because an infected person could have the virus incubating for decades, all the while spreading it to those who are unprotected. If a person's immunity becomes weakened, he or she could develop polio. The Amish and Mennonite travel throughout the US and Canada. They come in contact with other travelers in bus and train stations or in restaurants. It doesn't have to be in a hospital. Because no one stays in one place anymore, the only way to be safe is to get the vaccine.”