A Simple Hope: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (38 page)

Doddy …

What would he say to this problem?

“What we do in life echoes in eternity.”

The voice was clear as a bell, though James knew it was simply a part of his memory. Elmo Lapp had been a man who chose his actions carefully. Good deeds and kindness had the power to echo through the rolling hills, far and wide. In that moment, James appreciated the irony that his good deed was echoing through Halfway
in the form of gossip. Doddy would get a good chuckle out of that.

James missed him every day, and he imagined that Jimmy was still sore from the loss of his father. And then Uncle Tom, Dat’s brother, killed in a car accident just months ago. Dat must be reeling from the pain.

And then, there was the young Jimmy Lapp—the boy who had seen his young friend knocked off the road by an Englisher bus. It was the pain of that experience that made Jimmy hate Englishers. James understood that now. But hatred was a dangerous thing. Like an infestation of Oriental fruit moths or aphids, hatred could take hold of a tree and, bit by bit, destroy the entire orchard.

His gaze dropped to the desk, where his father had printed pages of photos and text spread out. James caught some of the words:
Our pears are always sweet and delicious!
and
Try our eat-over-the-sink peaches!

It was copy for a website for Lapp orchards, something Dat was putting together with the help of a Mennonite man who had a knack for computers. Jimmy believed that their orchard needed a website to stay competitive, and James suspected he was right.

“Dat … you work with Englishers every day. Clive, who manages the delivery trucks. And you spend a lot of time with Ira Doscher, getting all this together for the website.”

His father frowned. “Ya, so?”

“If one of these men had a problem, you would try to help them, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Because you know them. You don’t lump them in with other Englishers.”

“What are you saying?”

“It would help if you met Shandell, just once. She would like to thank you, and if you see that she’s a real person who needed our
help, I think you would understand. Remember the Golden Rule—”

“You have broken the rules of your parents and your bishop,” Jimmy interrupted. “You have shown disrespect to your father. You have stepped over the line of what’s right and proper. And you’ve taken things from our home for this Englisher to use. That makes you no better than a common thief.”

Borrowing a few cups and forks—James didn’t see it as stealing, but he would not argue the details with his father right now. It would only seem to prove Dat’s point about disrespect.

“I want this trespasser off our land,” Dat said.

“It’s done. She’s staying with Doc Trueherz.”

“And I have half a mind to end your treatment in Paradise until you get it through your thick skull that you are a member of an Amish church and you have promised to live Plain, not all entangled with Englishers. Ya, I think you’ve been spending too much time in town with the Englishers.”

This was exactly what James had feared. This would crush all hope. “Dat, please.” He kept his voice low and contrite. “Please take some time to think before you make that choice.”

“And why is that? Because you think the heat of the moment will cool and I’ll let you do what you like?”

“Not that. It’s because the treatment is helping me, Dat. I don’t fancy spending my days there, with all the exercising and repetition, and you haven’t made it easy for me to get in and out of Paradise. But the treatment is working, slowly but surely. I can stand for more than an hour now, and I’ve taken a few steps with the help of a cane. And I’ve learned how to get myself in and out of a buggy.”

Jimmy sat back in his chair, his head cocked to one side. “And you’ve kept this a secret, too?”

“I held on to it because I was afraid it wasn’t enough, Dat. No
matter what I do, it isn’t enough for you. I get half the orchard fertilized and you are disappointed about the other half. I learn to walk a step, and you want a mile.” James rubbed his brow. This was hard to put into words, and he didn’t want to be tripped by emotion. “I was saving it all up, thinking you might be pleased when I could walk again like a normal man.”

Jimmy’s lips were pursed in a frown. “What are you saying? That I favor the others because you can’t walk anymore?”

James shook his head. “You have always been hardest on me. Maybe because I was firstborn. I’m not complaining, Dat. You’ve pushed me hard, and I’m probably a better man because of it. I’m not asking for you to look the other way. I’m just asking you to give me a chance to continue the treatment. It’s helping. It’s giving me hope. I don’t want to lose that.”

“I’ll think on it.” Dat’s dark eyes squinted shut as he stared off in the distance. “But I don’t see why you should be allowed any favors after all you’ve done. Bringing in an Englisher and lying to hide it all from your family. It was wrong, James, and I can’t abide it. The cornerstone of faith is truth, not tolerance.”

“But Dat, it was you yourself who taught me the Golden Rule: Love your neighbor as yourself.”

“We are finished here.” Jimmy leafed through the papers on his desk as if James were no longer there. “I have nothing else to say.”

Swallowing over the knot in his throat, James stared out the window again. That man in the orchard wasn’t Doddy, but Albee Miller. And James’s father could not control everything. He could tell James what to do, and James would likely go through the motions to appease him. But he could not make James turn away from Shandell. James would not give his father that power. James would not give it to any man. James would follow his Father in heaven, who taught man to love his neighbor.

S
ix weeks later, Rachel leaned against the counter at the Country Store and marveled over the power of Gott to heal. Dear Shandell, who had returned to Halfway after a month in Maryland, now guided her new boss through the shop with confidence and good humor. The hollows in Shandell’s cheeks had filled out, the blue tint was gone from her hair, and her shiny black mane reminded Rachel of a feisty horse. A colt that needed to be trained, but not broken. Nay, you would never want to break such a strong, determined spirit.

Shandell had recovered, and she had returned to Halfway to stay, with a job at the new bed-and-breakfast. Her mother, Chelsea, was also moving to the area to be near her daughter and get a fresh start. Gott was great!

“A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND, INDEED.” Shandell put her hands on her hips as she admired the plaque. “That’s perfect for us, right, Rachel? I would love to have this for my room.”

Rachel smiled as Elsie removed the plaque from the wall and handed it to Shandell. “It was handcrafted by Adam King, Rachel’s cousin,” Elsie said.

Shandell ran her fingers over the grooves in the wood. “It’s beautiful, but it’s the sentiment that really appeals to me. It will help me remember the time when my life hit rock bottom and Rachel and James pulled me up.”

A smile warmed Rachel’s face at the sweet sentiment, and she beamed with pleasure and intrigue as she watched Shandell guide her boss through the shop.

“Add it to our pile,” Zoey said with a wave of her hand.

Shandell was here to help Zoey Jordan choose merchandise to decorate Halfway’s newest inn. Zoey and her husband, Tate, were the owners of the Halfway to Heaven Bed and Breakfast, scheduled to open in a former Amish farm right next door to Elsie’s home. The inn was being advertised as an authentic Amish experience. “Overnight stays in a historic Amish home!” And though Zoey seemed to have very good intentions, she didn’t seem to know much about Plain living.

“How about these plaques with the sayings painted on them?” Zoey asked, holding up a framed piece made by one of the local Amish women and reading it aloud. “KISSING WEARS OUT, COOKING DOESN’T. Oh, that would be great in the kitchen! Would it be authentic?”

“Many Amish homes have one or two hangings like that on the walls. We don’t have a lot of decoration, otherwise.”

“That’s what I told Zoey,” Shandell said. “I know I’m not Amish, but since I came out of hiding I’ve been inside enough houses to know that flowered wallpaper and chandeliers are not the way to go if you’re trying to create an Amish experience.”

“Oh, I know, I’m learning that lesson. That was my attempt at Victorian decorating.” Zoey rolled her eyes. The woman, who was
in her early thirties, had a round face, a bright smile, and a gift for gab. Today she wore a cute little straw hat that framed her fluffy blond hair nicely. “Shandell has a knack for marketing and a love for simplicity—two things that I lack, I’m afraid.” She turned to Shandell, dimples appearing as she smiled. “You vetoed my choices for the names of the rooms.”

“I did, with good reason. Zoey and Tate wanted to give the rooms names instead of numbers, but I had real issues with the Making Whoopie Pies room. And it seemed wrong to call the lobby restroom the Outhouse.”

Everyone chuckled at that. Elsie’s high-pitched laughter blended well with Ruben’s low, hearty laughter. Such a good couple they made!

And the way Shandell’s face shone when she laughed … it brought Rachel such joy. “Oh, and some paintings!” Zoey rubbed her hands together as she came upon the wall displaying Rachel’s artwork. “We have to have some work by Miss Rachel King, one of our local heroes.”

Although Rachel smiled, part of her wanted to run to the back room of the shop and hide. Such praise made her face grow hot with embarrassment. Funny, how the very thing that had been frowned upon by the Amish community was considered an act of heroism by the Englishers. As she watched Shandell and Zoey choose various paintings, Rachel still felt a maternal tug toward the Englisher girl. Helping her had been a joy, a true blessing, not some fantastic feat. Although Shandell didn’t need her loving care anymore, Rachel knew that they would always be friends. She hoped that the experience of taking care of someone in need had been Gott’s way of preparing her to be a mother.

That was part of her new dream—to marry James and raise a houseful of children in a home close to the orchard so that he could work the land he loved. The notion of having a house in town, here
among Englishers, now seemed laughable. Her experience of painting in the art shop had shown her that she was not a city girl, after all. She didn’t know how far he would progress with his new therapy, but that was in Gott’s hands. One thing she did know was that she loved him with all her heart, and a heart full of love was a happy heart, indeed.

Although James’s dat had threatened to forbid further medical treatment, so far he had let James continue going to the clinic six days a week. That was a very good thing, as the treatment was renewing James’s strength and giving him control of his legs, slowly but surely. Still, James worried that his father would change his mind and forbid James from further treatment. James didn’t want to talk about it, so Rachel could only guess at the strain and conflict that had been caused between father and son when James decided to take in the runaway girl.

Rachel was happy to drive him every day. Their special time in the buggy gave them a chance to talk—a very private time that most couples weren’t privy to, except for the weekend courtship nights.

Art at Heart was still the place where she spent most of her days, but after she finished the third painting for Kiki Grant, she began to break up her day with other errands. Being on display, like a tiger in the Philadelphia Zoo, was not something she enjoyed. She now had a hefty sum saved, and she kept the money in a little sachet, tied up with a bow. Their house fund—or so she hoped.

One Saturday night, Rachel was up in the attic room, dabbing paint onto a canvas, creating a crazy quilt of color, when a light appeared at the windows. The beam bounced around the window-panes like a giant firefly.

Stepping into the cool breeze at the open window, she looked down and saw James standing in the yard with a flashlight.

Standing there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world!

“Praise be to Gott!” It was a sight she thought she would never see again.

Rachel hurried downstairs to greet him. “What are you doing here, standing in my front yard?” she teased.