Blessings (6 page)

At supper, Trina wanted to ask her father how his meeting with Dr. Groening had gone. But Mama, still upset about her spending the entire morning at Beth’s studio, glared across the table, and Trina decided it was better to wait until she could talk to Dad alone.

Not until the dishes were cleared, washed, and put away did she find a minute to join her father in the yard, where he tinkered under the hood of his car. When she spoke his name, he jumped, nearly banging the back of his head on the metal hood. “Trina.” The single word held a hint of exasperation.

She leaned sideways, peeking beneath the hood. “What are you doing?”

“Adjusting the carburetor.”

“Why don’t you let Uncle Henry do it? That’s his job.”

He sent her an impatient look. “Because I’m capable of doing it myself. What do you need? I’m busy.”

Trina clasped her hands at her apron waist. “I wondered. . .what Dr. Groening said. About me taking a job at his clinic. But if you’d rather wait. . .” She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t send her away.

He heaved a mighty sigh and rested his elbows on the car’s fender, angling his head to look at her from beneath the hood. “Well, the job doesn’t sound all that good to me, Trina. You’ll be cleaning up: cleaning up cages and kennels, cleaning up the exam room, cleaning up after surgery. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

Trina met her father’s steady gaze. “Yes, sir. I know I don’t have an education”—her thoughts added the word
yet
—“but I can learn a lot from watching. And maybe I’ll be able to help people around town if their animals get sick or hurt.”

He shook his head. “You are determined to see this through, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

His gaze narrowed, a hint of sympathy showing around the edges of his unsmiling face. “Is it really that bad, working at the café?”

“Oh, Daddy. . .” Trina paused, gathering her thoughts. “It isn’t that I dislike my work at the café. It’s fun to be around the people, and I know it serves a purpose. But it isn’t. . .” She furrowed her brow, seeking an appropriate word. “Fulfilling.”

“And cleaning up after animals would be?”

Her father’s incredulous expression made Trina want to giggle. But she kept a serious face and nodded. “Yes, sir.” Cleaning up after animals was just the start. She’d do more. Someday.

He shook his head, slapped the fender, and leaned back over the engine. “Well, all right, then, daughter. The job will be from nine in the morning until five o’clock each evening. With the distance, you won’t be able to come home for lunch, so you’ll need to pack yourself a sandwich each day.” He glanced at her. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Trina gave him a bright, beaming smile. “I know what I’m doing, Dad. Don’t worry.”

S
IX

T
rina stuck her arm out the open window of Tony’s truck, her hand angled to catch the warm, coursing wind. The pressure against her palm and cupped fingers created a tickling sensation, and she laughed.

From behind the steering wheel, Tony sent her a grin. “You’re really happy to be out of the café, aren’t you?”

The wind threatened to pull her cap loose, so she shifted a little closer to her brother and caught the dancing strings of her cap, holding them together beneath her chin. “I’m happy to be on my way to the vet clinic,” she said. After two weeks of training, Mama had finally deemed Janina Ensz and Kelly Dick capable of handling the tasks of taking orders, serving, and cleaning up at the café. Trina wished Tony would drive faster so she could get to Dr. Groening’s as quickly as possible.

The Groening Animal Clinic, located off Highway 56 between Sommerfeld and Lehigh, was housed in a red brick building that had previously served as a country school. Trina had visited it once before when she rode along with Beth McCauley to get Winky’s vaccinations. She admired the way Dr. Groening had divided the one-room classroom into a small reception area, two examination rooms, and an operating room. Most of his supplies were stored in the storm shelter beneath the clinic. Although small and unpretentious, the clinic met the needs of those who brought their pets to him. And now Trina would be learning to meet those needs, as well, through firsthand experience. Her heart twanged crazily at the thought.

“I hope taking you doesn’t make me late to my job.” A hint of worry underscored her brother’s comment.

Trina shot him a concerned look. “Will Mr. Bruner be terribly upset if you’re a few minutes late?”

Tony hunched his shoulders, his eyes on the road. “He’s pretty particular. Suzanna”—he glanced briefly in Trina’s direction, his cheeks splotching with pink—“that’s his daughter—she warned me to follow his directions carefully if I wanted to keep my job. He’s older and set in his ways, and he expects things to go just so. Suzanna can’t wait until she’s old enough to have her own family so she doesn’t have to live with him anymore.”

“Where’s her mother?”

“Remember? Mrs. Bruner died several years ago.”

Trina nodded. “Oh, now I remember.” She patted his arm. “We left plenty early. You should be okay.” Then she grinned. “Or are you more worried about missing time with Suzanna than you are about being late for your job?”

“Trina!” Tony jerked his arm free of her hand. “She’s Amish.”

Trina shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

Tony gritted his teeth. “Her dad would never allow it.”

Trina considered pursuing the subject a little further, but then she spotted the clinic up ahead. “There it is!” She pointed out the window, leaning forward to grab the dash. “Oh, look! He’s added kennels in the back. Those weren’t there when I came over with Beth. I wonder if he keeps dogs overnight.” Maybe she could help with their care, too.

Tony slowed down to pull into the graveled driveway. “I don’t know. I don’t see any dogs out there now.”

She craned her neck, disappointment striking. “Neither do I.” Then she brightened. “But I’m sure there will be animals inside. Oh! Hurry, Tony!”

He laughed as he brought the truck to a stop in front of the building. “We’re here. Get out so I can go to my job.”

She flashed him a grin, snatched up her lunch bag, and jumped out of the pickup. Giving the door a slam, she called, “See you at five!”

“Or a little after,” he replied. “It’ll take me awhile to get over here from the Bruners’.”

“I’ll wait outside for you. See you later!”

“Have a good day, sis.”

She waved as he pulled away; then she turned and dashed up the three steps leading to the clinic’s door. She stepped into the room, stopped, and drew in a lengthy, lingering breath, processing the smell. Clean, a little bit like a hospital, but with an underlying essence of wet dog. She laughed out loud. At the sound, Dr. Groening stepped from the far examination room.

He grinned, his gray eyebrows high. “You find my clinic amusing?”

Trina tangled her hands in her apron and gasped. “Oh no! Not at all! That was a happy laugh, that’s all.”

His grin grew, twitching his mustache. “Well, we’ll see how happy you are by the end of the day. It gets pretty messy around here.”

Trina swung her lunch bag. “Don’t worry. I’m used to messy.”

She discovered by the end of the day, however, that messy in the café couldn’t compare to messy in the vet clinic. Nervous dogs often emptied their bladders—or worse—on the floor before they made it to an examination table. One poor dog, a golden retriever named Mo, threw up three times in the reception room and twice on the exam table. While Trina’s sympathy was roused, it was the least pleasant scrub job she’d ever encountered. And cats shed terribly, their hair clinging to everything.

By lunchtime, she was ready for a break, but when she lifted her sandwich, she suddenly thought about all the other things her hands had touched during the morning. Even though she’d worn latex gloves for the cleanup tasks and washed her hands with an antiseptic soap afterward, she couldn’t make herself take a bite of the sandwich. Instead, she drank the milk from her little thermos and put the sandwich back in the bag.

Dr. Groening made visits to local farms during the afternoon. Trina would have loved to ride along with him, but he left her behind to hose out the kennels and wash all the dog dishes—even though they weren’t being used at the moment—and dust the shelves in the storm shelter. It was hardly the day of animal treatment she’d been anticipating, and her spirits flagged as the day wore on.

At five o’clock, she wrote her time on a little card Dr. Groening had given her in the morning and went to sit on the front stoop to wait for Tony. Chin in hands, she contemplated the day of cleaning, cleaning, cleaning, and she realized it was exactly what her father had told her to expect. Still, considering her conversation with Dr. Groening, she had hoped for something. . .more.

A vehicle approached, and Trina shielded her eyes from the late-afternoon sun, squinting. When she recognized Graham’s sedan, she trotted to the driver’s window.

“What are you doing here?” She bent forward and peered into the backseat. “You don’t have an animal with you.”

Graham grinned. “I came for you.”

Trina stood upright. “But Tony is supposed to pick me up.”

Graham’s grin turned impish, and he raised one eyebrow higher than the other. “I talked to Tony about an hour ago when he came into the lumberyard to pick up some nails. I told him I’d get you instead.”

“And Mama cleared it?” Despite the disappointing day, Trina didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this opportunity. Getting Mama riled was the best way to lose her new job.

Graham shrugged. “I don’t know why she would protest. I’ve driven you places before.”

“With other people along, too,” Trina pointed out. Boys and girls spending time alone together was discouraged in their fellowship. Others who had disregarded the dictate of group activities had received reprimands from the minister. Trina had no desire to be disciplined— not by the minister or by her parents.

Graham tipped his head to the side and fixed her with a steady look. “Well, Tony isn’t coming, so unless you want to walk, you’d better hop in.”

Trina bit down on her lower lip for a moment, but finally she sighed and slid into the passenger side of the front seat. “All right. But I’ll need to check with Mama and make sure it’s okay for you to do this another time.”

Graham turned the car around and aimed it toward the highway. “How about I come in and ask your parents if I can pick you up each day? And while I’m talking to them, I’ll make another request.”

Trina stared at his honed profile and waited.

“I’d like to ask if they’d allow us to be published, Trina.”

She jerked her gaze to the ribbon of highway. The white dashes zipped by, one after another, as mixed emotions zipped back and forth in her chest.

Graham’s hand started to reach toward her, but then he wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel again. Eyes ahead, he asked, “Is that all right with you?”

A part of Trina wanted to exult, “Yes!” But another part of her wanted to exclaim, “Not yet!” She examined her heart, trying to understand the confusion. She cared a great deal about Graham. Of all the young men in Sommerfeld, he was the only one she could imagine spending her life with. She did hope to marry him. . .someday. But now? Was she ready for it now?

She had to say something. “I—I—”

The car began to slow, and Graham eased it onto the shoulder of the road. Leaving the engine on, he put the vehicle in Park and turned to face her. “Trina, I love you. I’ve loved you for over a year now. I want you to be my wife. But I need to know: Do you love me?”

Trina stared into his dear, stricken face. Something inside of her melted. A feeling of longing rose up, putting a mighty lump in her throat. She swallowed and formed a sincere answer. “I do love you, Graham.”

“Then what’s wrong? Why won’t you let us be published?”

“I want to be published, too! It’s just—” How would Graham feel, knowing she was putting the opportunity to work with animals ahead of him? Yet if he truly loved her, wouldn’t he support her desire to be more than a wife and mother? Wouldn’t he encourage her to fulfill her dreams? Maybe he wouldn’t mind being the first husband in Sommerfeld to have a veterinarian for a wife.

Graham took her hand. He didn’t curl his fingers around it but just placed his palm over her hand on the seat. The simple touch ignited feelings inside of Trina that took her by surprise. She stared at their hands—his much larger one, with blond hairs on the backs of his lumpy knuckles, covering hers. Only the tips of her fingers with their uneven, broken fingernails showed. Suddenly the gesture made her feel smothered, and she jerked her hand away, fearful of where the feelings might lead.

Graham’s forehead creased, and for long moments, he remained with his hand lying in the middle of the seat, the fingers curling into a fist.

Trina said, “We’d better go, or Mama will worry.”

He grabbed the gearshift and gave it a quick jerk, then pulled the car back into traffic. Neither spoke the rest of the way to Sommerfeld. But when he pulled up in front of her house, Trina didn’t get out.

“Graham?”

Several seconds ticked by before he finally looked at her. His stern expression didn’t offer much encouragement, but she knew if they were to have a relationship, she needed to be completely honest with him.

“I want to be your wife.”

His expression softened.

“But just not yet. There are. . .other things. . .I want to accomplish first. Things that”—she pressed both palms to her heart—“that live in here. I have to let them come out before I can be a good wife to you.”

Graham shook his head. “Trina, you are the most confusing girl. What things can a woman need besides being a good wife and mother? That’s your God-ordained purpose.”

“And I’ll want to be a good wife and mother. Someday.” Without conscious thought, she leaned slightly toward him. “But don’t you think God gives us other tasks, too? Why would He plant the interest in animal care in my heart if I wasn’t supposed to use it?”

“You do use it,” Graham argued. “You helped with Livvy’s horse the other night. You’re always taking care of sick animals. I wouldn’t stop you from helping animals. Of course, once our children start arriving, then you wouldn’t be able to run off all night like you did with Regen, but—”

“But I want to do more!” Trina implored him with her eyes, begging him to see how much this dream meant to her. She needed someone to understand, to support her, to encourage her. She wanted desperately for that someone to be Graham.

He ran his hand over his short-cropped hair—the hair that reminded Trina of the sandstone posts surrounding Uncle Al’s cornfields. Even though Graham worked mostly inside at the lumberyard rather than outdoors as a farmer, there was so much about him that reminded her of the outdoors. His sandstone-colored hair, his sky-colored eyes, his lips as full and deeply hued as a pink rosebud ready to burst. But now his eyes bore into hers with a hurt that tore at her heart, and his lips pressed into a firm, stubborn line.

“Exactly what do you want, Trina?”

It was the question she’d wanted him to ask so she could share her deepest desire, but now that the opportunity lay before her, she hesitated. She hated her hesitation. Shouldn’t she feel free to share with the man who would one day be her husband?

Taking a deep breath, she whispered her dream aloud. “I want to be real.”

He stared at her, confusion evident in the rapid blinking of his eyes.

She rushed on. “A real animal doctor. Someone trained in the field.”

“You mean attend college?”

Trina wasn’t sure whether he was astounded or agitated. “It will probably take that. Yes.”

Graham threw himself against the seat, his head back, his hands on the steering wheel, and his arms straight as if bracing himself against a fast downhill ride. “I can’t believe it.”