A Simple Hope: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (19 page)

It had been quite a day. With the first electric treatment and the buggy incident, James thought he would be exhausted when they reached home. Instead, something had come alive inside him when Mark turned the buggy onto the lane leading through the orchard. As if he could feel the hand of Gott upon his shoulder, James now knew what he had to do.

“Hallo?” he called out, watching for movement as crisp green leaves crackled in the breeze overhead. When he had knocked on the door to the sugar shack, there’d been no answer. Inside, ashes glowed in the woodstove, the wood supply dwindling. He’d been relieved to see her things there, her backpack on the ground. The sleeping bag was neatly spread on the bench.

What would his parents do if one of the girls decided to leave home and travel about like this? Surely Mamm would be riddled with worry over Verena … or Lovina or Hannah when their time for rumspringa came around. It was one thing to let a youth in rumspringa test the boundaries. But if a young person like Shandell asked for help, the Savior himself would not turn her away.

He rolled down the path that ran along the creek, minding to avoid the deepest ruts. Although the rest of the orchard was well-tended, no one groomed the land this far back, which was used just once a year for maple sugaring.

A movement in the scrub to the right caught his eye. He turned to find nothing … and then Shandell’s head popped up from the bushes along the ravine.

“I’m so glad it’s you!” She clasped a hand to her chest dramatically. “I thought I was in big trouble.”

“Because you’re not supposed to be here?”

“Exactly. I was just sitting by the water, trying to think of another place to go.” The sun touched her hair, and it glowed, blue as the pond on a summer day. He hadn’t noticed in the dim light of the sugaring shack last night.

Blue hair? This girl was full of surprises. “That’s something for us to talk about.”

“I know I told you I would leave,” she went on, “but honestly? The last two nights were sort of cozy here, and I’m afraid the next place I try down the road won’t be so kind to me.”

“The sugar shack might serve you well until your mother comes. Let’s talk about this a little bit.” He turned his chair and wheeled around toward the woodpile. Time for her to earn her keep. “I see you’re running low on wood. I’ll show you how to split some more.”

“Really? Okay.” She walked alongside him, then skipped ahead, reminding him of an eager child. “I know where you keep the wood, but I couldn’t find an ax.”

“It’s tucked away, so the blade doesn’t rust.” For the next few minutes, he became the teacher and Shandell was an interested student. From his chair, he was able to sink the ax into the first piece of wood. He showed her how to go for the center, to split along the lines. “Then after you hear it crack, you tap it hard against the stump to separate the remaining chunks and free your ax.”

Resolve shone on her face as she pounded a few times and cracked the fat log into two manageable pieces of wood.

“There you go.”

“Wow.” She grinned, flexing her arms in the air. “I have mad lumberjack skills.”

James couldn’t help but grin. “I reckon.” He showed her how to bundle the wood to make it easier to carry inside. And then Shandell set to splitting another log.

As she worked, she asked him what he did all day.

“Today I went into Paradise to see a doctor.”

“Are you sick?”

Her questions came without embarrassment. She didn’t realize she was crossing a line.

“I’m getting a new treatment. But it was a day full of excitement. On the way home, our horse got spooked and ran off the road.”

“You’re kidding me.” She rested the ax blade on the ground with a thunk. “That must have been scary. Is everyone okay?”

“Lucky for us, Rowdy got slowed down when we tore through a field of spinach. But the field wasn’t so lucky, I reckon.” He took off his hat and rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re going to have to do some more planting in the Yoders’ field.”

When she asked who had been driving, he told her about Mark, who couldn’t be blamed for his inexperience at the age of twelve. “Though he should have listened to Mamm. Rowdy isn’t ready to pull a buggy just yet.”

“Awww. But that’s sweet that your brother is trying to rehabilitate a horse.”

“Ya. Mark is good with horses.”

“Have you been in a buggy accident before?” she asked. “I mean, is that why you’re in a wheelchair?”

He scratched the back of his neck. This girl had nerve, but he was beginning to mind it less and less. Since the accident, too many folks had been tiptoeing around him, as if they thought talking about his injury was going to make it worse. “Not a buggy accident. I was riding in a van, coming home from Philadelphia, and a car hit us on the highway.”

Her eyes grew wide as she set aside an armful of split wood. “That’s terrible. You’d never think of an Amish person being hurt in a car accident. Especially since you’re not supposed to ride in cars, right?”

He explained that his district allowed members to be passengers in automobiles, but they could not own them or drive them.

“When was the accident?” she asked.

“January. I got knocked unconscious, so I don’t remember much.” He explained that the shoulder harness of his seatbelt had malfunctioned, so his spine was jolted when he doubled over. “I hit my head, too. I had a concussion, but that was easy to get over. The paralysis, not so much.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She frowned. “Were your legs broken?”

“My legs are fine; it’s the spine that was damaged. The spinal cord. I’ve been through rehabilitation and some surgeries. It’s a new treatment I started today. The doctors think I might be able to walk again. It’s possible.” He nudged his thighs with his fists. “Isn’t it strange that legs in perfectly good condition can’t work without the message from the brain?”
Like the empty shell of a man without Gott’s light inside
, he thought.

“I never was good at science,” she said. “I just think the whole human body is one of God’s great miracles. Of course, my biology teacher didn’t really want to hear that answer on a test.” She fingered the gems in her ear. “I guess I’ll never be a doctor.”

“Me, neither. Plain folk don’t go to school past eighth grade. We pick up a trade, work the family farm. We work close to home.”

“I wish I had a job close to home,” she said wistfully.

“There’s always the cooking and cleaning.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not a job.”

“But it needs to get done. Amish or English, everyone needs food and a roof over their head to live.”

“That’s true. I’ve learned that the hard way over the past few days.” Bracing herself, she lowered the ax into the center of a fat log. A good strike.

“But you’re also learning a skill,” he teased. “Now you can split wood.”

“Like I said, I have mad lumberjack skills. At least I’m learning something positive out of my bad choices.” She drove the ax deeper into the wood.

“How did you wind up out here, anyway? Why did you come here, to Lancaster County?”

“At the time, the destination wasn’t important. I just wanted to run, fast and far from home. Gary called it a road trip. He said we had a place to stay at his sister’s house. We were going to ride through the countryside with no deadlines or commitments. That sounds like fun, right?”

“Mmm. I’ve never left Lancaster County, but some Amish folk travel once in a while. My mamm went to Florida with her family when she was a girl. She got to swim in the ocean.” James and his siblings had always enjoyed her stories of the miles of blue water that met the sky on the horizon. Holding hands with her sisters and brothers, she had hopped over the incoming waves—like jumping
rope. The salty spray. The way her feet sank into the sand as the tide pulled the floor out from beneath her.

“The ocean is great,” Shandell said, pulling her hair to one shoulder, “but I’ve never been a beach bunny. I’m so pale. An hour in the sun, and I’m burnt to a crisp.”

“You need a hat.” James pinched the brim of his black hat as he turned it in his hands. “A hat and sunscreen.”

“I’m just not a hat girl. Hats always squash my hair.”

James nodded. “And you don’t want to crush your blue hair.”

When Shandell laughed aloud, it was a happy sound, like the breeze jangling the new leaves. “Are you saying you don’t like my blue hair?”

“I didn’t say that.” He grinned. “But I might have thought it.”

With another chuckle, she sat on the splitting stump and raked her hair back with both hands. “I really am a mess, James. I admit that. I guess it was easy to leave because I didn’t have a lot of good things going on. I’m supposed to be graduating from high school, but I got a notice that I was failing algebra.” She shook her head. “I didn’t have much going on. I figured there was no reason to stay.”

“But now … now you want to go home?”

“I do. I miss my mom. I miss the comforts of home. I’m a lousy camper, and I’m not a very good fugitive.” She sighed. “Isn’t this crazy? Me, sitting here telling you my life story like we’re old friends.”

“Ya.” She was right on that. Many boundaries had been crossed between them—maybe too quickly—but there was no going back. “And with all your questions, you’ve gotten more out of me than most.”

“You’re the sanest person I’ve met in a long time.” When he squinted at her, she added, “That’s a good thing.”

James frowned. He knew he should not get involved with this Englisher girl. She was not Plain and he suspected that she had been
in more trouble than she admitted. It was not appropriate for a young Amish man to spend time with a young Englisher girl. And his father had become strict about separating from all Englishers. Every bit of common sense told him no.

But it was too late. He was already getting to know her. He was already involved. And his conscience kept reminding him of the Bible story of the Good Samaritan. He had to help her.

“I’d better get back to the house. I don’t want to stir anything up, me being gone for too long.” James knew his family would worry if he was gone for too long without anyone seeing him around the orchard.

That was how family was—something Shandell didn’t seem to know about.

He put his hands on the rims of the wheels, then remembered the food in his satchel. “I brought you something.” He reached into the side pocket and removed a thermos of milk, some biscuits, and hard-boiled eggs. “I know you brought granola bars, but no one can resist Mamm’s biscuits.”

“They look delish. Thanks.” Her eyes grew wide as she picked out an orange egg. “Easter eggs! Mom and I used to make these.”

“I’ll pick up the thermos tomorrow. Probably in the afternoon.” With the treatments in Paradise scheduled for each morning, James would have to switch his morning trip out to the sugar shack to later in the day.

“I’ll be here. Not like I’ve got anywhere else to go.” She shrugged. “I’m usually a night owl, but when you live in the woods without electricity, there’s no reason to stay up. I figured that part out the past few nights. So, you’re telling me it’s okay to stay until my mom comes?”

What was he to do? James had always followed the rules of his father, but never before had he seen his father’s rules cross the path of Gott. He knew there would be trouble if his dat found out, but
his father never came out this way. No one but James bothered with this wooded end of the orchard.

He nodded. “Stay close to the shack and away from the orchards so no one’s the wiser. There’ll be a stir if my father or brothers see you. Stick close and you’ll be safe here.”

She called a good-bye as he rolled back under the canopy of green leaves, surrounded by birdsong. This was the first time in his life he had faced such a crossroads—one path leading to the approval of his father, the other showing him the way the Savior would have walked.

Maybe he was moving toward trouble, but his heart was light with surprising relief that he had followed the Golden Rule. Heading into the gentle breeze, James knew he would sleep well tonight.

“
R
ain, rain, rain,” Rachel said with a sigh. The highway before them glistened, as fat drops tapped the umbrella she held over Ben and herself on the gray Tuesday morning. Stubborn Ben had insisted on taking his open buggy when he was asked to drop her by the Lapps’ on his way to the feed store, and now the sky was opening up on them.

“I don’t mind it,” Ben said. “It’s part of the growing season.”

“Ya, but you’re already full grown,” she teased. She knew that the crops needed rain, but this morning she could have used a bright, sunny sky to boost her confidence. She wasn’t sure how James would take to her driving him into town.

“There you go.” Ben stopped the buggy at the top of the orchard lane. “Take that umbrella with you. I can’t be bothered with it.”

Holding the umbrella aloft, she climbed out of the buggy. “Don’t get too wet,” she told her brother.

Ben adjusted the brim of his black hat. “I’m like a duck. If I can’t
fly between the raindrops, I’ll swim.” With that, he called to the horse, and the buggy took off at a good pace.

Ben seemed to have two speeds on the road: fast and faster. Sometimes Rachel wondered if he would ever settle down. On the other hand, she could take a lesson from the way he plunged into things headfirst. Sometimes, Rachel let doubt hold her back.