A Simple Faith: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (17 page)

A little bell jingled as he opened the door and stepped in, his hat in his hand.

“We’re about to close, but if I can help you—” Elsie peeked out from one of the aisles, blinking up at Ruben. “It’s you. I was just closing. Got to get to the hospital. But you can come in.”

He went around a small village of birdhouses and paused at a
display of baby items. The store had changed a lot since the last time he’d been in here as a boy, buying a soda pop on a hot day. “I noticed the store’s been closed until today.”

“Caleb and I have been at the hospital, almost day and night, so we’ve had no one to cover the store. Emma comes, too, as soon as school is over.” She finished restocking the display of candles. “I have half a mind to keep the store closed, but it’s this shop that pays our bills.” She shrugged. “What can you do?”

“And how is your dat?” Although he knew the answer, he sensed that she wanted to talk about Thomas.

“Still sleeping. Unconscious.” She took the cash box out of the old register and began to count bills, busying herself. “The doctors say they’re not seeing any brain activity. You know those special machines and X-rays they got to see what’s going on inside a person’s body? Those machines are telling them that Dat isn’t going to wake up. But they said we can give it time. Anything is possible.” She stopped counting and looked up. Her sweet face reflected a wide pond of worries. “Do you believe in miracles, Ruben?”

“I do. I think it’s a miracle we’re both alive.” He’d seen his share of miracles. Tragedies, too.

“Then can you help me pray for a miracle? Because everyone else is walking around with a sad face. No one’s talking about it, but I think they’ve given up. But I won’t. I’m not giving up on Dat. Will you pray for him?”

“I already am.”

“Denki.” She continued counting out the register drawer.

He looked around the shop, which was much improved from the last time he’d been in here, but that was years ago. So, this was where Elsie spent her days.

“Are you going to the funeral tomorrow?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m getting a ride with the Kings.”

Ruben planned to go with Zed, though he dreaded it. Funerals were difficult to get through, and a funeral for a teenage girl was a terrible thing to endure. “It’s so hard to understand Gott’s plan,” he said. “When I found her car, I thought Gott intended to spare her life.” He shook his head. “I was wrong.”

“I don’t think our brains are able to understand what Gott intends.”

He picked up a delicate puff of a pincushion with a heart pattern in the center. Many of the items here—the quilts and honey, jams and lavender—were items that vendors sold in his father’s marketplace, but not these pincushions.

“I’ve never seen the likes of these before,” he said, holding it out in the palm of his bandaged hand.

“That was made by Hannah Ebersol. Very nice stitching.”

He placed it on the counter. “I’ll take it, if it’s not too late.”

“Sure. But what would a fella like you want with a pincushion?”

“My mamm sews. She needs a place for her pins.”

“Then this will brighten her day.”

“I reckon it will.” In truth, his mother didn’t favor sewing, but he wanted to make a purchase that might help bring along the Lapps’ profits after two days of being closed. He understood how a household could rely on a retail business. His family lived on the money made at Zook’s barn.

She wrapped his purchase in a small piece of cloth—a remnant from the fabrics they sold—and tied it off with a ribbon to make a dainty package that would melt his mother’s heart.

“That looks so nice; now I’ll have to save it for her birthday,” he said.

There was no hint of a smile on Elsie’s face. She seemed tired and worn down, and he wished that there was something to do to relieve the heavy burden on her shoulders.

“I guess you’ll be getting back to the hospital?” he asked.

“As soon as I close up here. There’s a driver coming to pick up me and Emma. Don Goldbright. Do you know him?”

“We’ve used him before.” But mostly, his family hired George Dornbecker when they needed a driver. George was reliable and always good for a few laughs. “Did you hear that George got burns on his arms from the air bags?” Somehow, talking about the people in the van reminded Ruben of the bond they shared.

Elsie nodded. “He’s been to visit with Dat at the hospital. I wish he didn’t blame himself. I saw that car coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it.”

“He came to check on me, too. I hear he’s been to see everyone who was in the van. George is a good driver and a good man. I hope he gets another van.”

“Ya.” She closed the register and took a pouch of money to the back room. “I’ve just got to get my coat. I want to be ready when Don gets here.”

He knew he had to let her go, but the prospect of not seeing her for another few days made him hungry for conversation. “I’ll let you go. I just wanted to let you know, if there’s anything you need, just get word to me,” he called toward the back room. “Anything your family needs, too. I want to help.”

“Denki. You’ve already helped a lot, Ruben.”

He moved toward the door, catching sight of the back of a sign in the window that said: NO SUNDAY SALES. That was a rule among the Amish, since Sunday was a day of rest, meant for church every other Sunday, and for family time.

“You’re closed tomorrow,” he said, thinking aloud. “But Monday …” He turned to Elsie, who now stood in her coat. “How about if I run the shop for you on Monday? That way you can spend the day with your dat.”

The veil of worry lifted as she looked up at him. “That would be ever so kind, but you’ve never run the shop before.”

“Ya, but I’ve managed the marketplace at the barn. Two dozen vendors, and hundreds of folks coming and going. I may not have your eye for detail, but I can handle some customers.”

“I’m sure you can.” She looked at the key in her hand and held it out to him. “I hope you mean it, because I’m going to take you up on it. Ya, I will, and I’d be ever so grateful. It would ease my load to be able to be with Dat and know that the shop is being tended to.”

He took the key from her. “I’ll be here Monday morning.” He looked at the sign, checking the hours. “The store will be open by nine.”

“We’re open nine until sunset,” she said. “I’ll come check on you, just in case you have any questions.”

“That would be good.”

“Thank you, Ruben.” She wrapped a wool scarf around her neck—a small one that a child would wear—and let out a deep sigh. “You’ve eased my heavy heart.”

That was exactly what he’d been hoping to do. He pressed the key into his palm, looking forward to Monday.

19

A
bitterly cold wind stirred the air, bringing tears to Haley’s eyes as she made her way up around the block to the front of the church.
Good thing for sunglasses
, she thought. Otherwise, people would know she’d been crying.

Which she had been, at the most unexpected times.

Every morning in the shower and every night in bed, her eyes filled with tears. She let the warm spray wash down the sorrow and pressed her face to her pillow to drown out the sobs, but even if someone heard, what could they do?

No one could stop the rush of panic that overwhelmed her … the racing heartbeat and tightness in her chest. No one could remove the jagged knife of fear that lodged in her ribs, reminding her that life could end in a nanosecond, and that the ending might be unexpected and fraught with pain.

At the hospital, she was treated like an Olympic gold medalist. People regarded her with awe and respect, when the truth was that
she had only acted as any decent human being would have, with a few semesters of nursing classes under her belt. Her parents had softened toward her, too, and suddenly Haley seemed to have the life she had craved, minus the happiness.

Yesterday she had completed her clinical shift at the hospital with barely a blink, but then when she went to the hospital cafeteria for a cup of coffee, the realization that she had forgotten to bring money caused her to burst into tears and gasp for air.

That had frightened her—losing control in public. She was afraid it would happen again, and honestly, she had no idea how to prevent a public breakdown.

And if her panic jags weren’t bad enough, there was also the fact that she was too frightened to drive now. Dylan had told her that it was a normal reaction, and at least her father understood. He had rearranged his schedule so that he could drive her to the hospital and school. And he’d left his easy chair in front of a televised football game so that he could drive her here, to Clara Estevez’s funeral.

The bell of the old church was ringing.
Calling Clara to heaven
, Haley thought. She still clung to Graciana’s words about her daughter being taken by the angels. It was such a beautiful image, even if Haley had trouble believing it. Of course, she believed in God, but sometimes she wondered if the rules and stories set forth in the Bible had any place in the real world these days. Somehow it was easier to believe that angels existed back in the old days, before filmmakers could make transparent angels seem real, before people could actually fly through the skies on commercial jets.

As she reached the church steps, the soft patter of horses’ hooves sounded from a distance. Lifting her gaze, she saw the procession of horses pulling carriages in the street. Haley didn’t know much about horses, but these creatures were large—taller than any man—and each pulled a boxy gray buggy. Although she’d grown up seeing
Amish people traveling this way, she was now struck by the charm of their lifestyle, a world nearly free of cars and cell phones, of televisions and mesmerizing computer screens.

She waited for the carriages to unload and greeted her friends quietly outside the church. Inside, seated between Rachel and Elsie, she felt a certain peace wash over her as the service began. Dressed in black, her face hidden behind a dark veil, Graciana seemed distant. She was supported by a man and a woman on either side of her, and they entered the church together, followed by other mourners. The organ music, the white coffin moving up the aisle, the grieving family, many of whom had flown in from the Dominican Republic—all of it stirred a certain sadness deep inside Haley.

But there was also a barb of anger for the girl who had been killed.

Clara, I did not know you, but I’m suffering from your bad choice. And all around me I see good people suffering because of you
.

Harsh words for a dead girl, Haley knew that, and she was ashamed of herself. Especially when she saw the forgiveness of her Amish friends, whose calm faces radiated peace in the hollow chamber of the church.

I’m just an unforgiving person
, she thought as the congregation bowed their heads to receive God’s blessing.
Cold and unforgiving, that’s me
.

When the service had ended, Elsie told her that they were driving to Graciana’s house to deliver some food and baked goods.

“But you’ve been at the hospital every day … all day,” Haley said. “How did you find time to bake?”

Elsie shrugged. “It didn’t take much time. And to tell the truth, I’ve been having trouble falling asleep.”

Haley put a hand on Elsie’s shoulder. “It’s the accident.”

Elsie nodded. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Talk to Dylan. He’s right over there.” Haley had noticed Dr. Monroe in the back of the church when the service ended. “He wants to help. That’s why he’s here.”

“Some other time,” Elsie said. “We have to get going.” She patted Haley’s wrist. “You talk to him today. Let him help you.”

Haley squinted. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know the expression about the pot calling the kettle black?”

“Can I get a translation?”

Elsie tilted her head in that way that made her seem wise for her years. “You wore your sunglasses through the whole funeral. I don’t know why you’re hiding in there. I just know that sometimes we hold the hurt inside and hope that no one else will see it.”

Reflexively, Haley touched the corner of her sunglasses. “I forgot that I had them on. That must have seemed rude.”