Leah's Choice (21 page)

Leah swallowed, trying to dissolve the thickness in her throat. Daniel had waited so long for this assignment. She’d thought they might be getting a call to go to Spain or even back to Morocco, but the Amazon? Weren’t there jaguars there? Giant snakes and alligators? She’d pictured herself in a city apartment or living in a tiny house on a busy street, but never in a jungle. “Seven years is a long time.” She felt as if she might start weeping. Could she possibly leave her family for seven years?

“There are vacations,” Daniel said. “There will be money for us to fly home, and we can always have visitors. We’ll have our own home.”

Leah’s thoughts scattered in a hundred directions. “Could I have a garden?”

“A garden, a cow, whatever you like.”

“But what would I do? Besides taking care of our house? I’m not a nurse. What help would I be in a jungle mission?” Leah turned her head away from him and stared at the pond. A mallard duck and her yellow and brown babies paddled by on the far side, the ducklings little more than balls of fluff. Home…all she’d ever known. How could Daniel ask her to leave this peaceful world to go to live in Brazil?

“There would be more work than hands to do it,” he said in a burst of excitement. “The native population is sorely lacking medical attention. The infant mortality rate is high, nutrition is poor, the poverty overwhelming. Education is key in a place like this. We won’t just be treating them medically, but we’ll be helping them to help themselves. We can do so much to help them, to offer them a better way…to bring them to an understanding of God’s love.”

She looked at Daniel, still unable to speak.

“If you say you won’t go, I’ll turn them down,” Daniel said.

“You have to let me think.” She covered her face with her hands. “This is such a shock.” So many questions surfaced in her mind and she groped for something sensible to say. “I took high school classes by mail. I got my diploma, and I wanted to teach in one of our Amish schools, but no position ever opened up. The elders won’t allow college, but there was so much more that I wanted to learn. Do you think that would be possible? That I could continue studying by mail?”

“Not only by mail, but by computer. I’ll need to be in contact with the nearest hospital, so we’ll have satellite Internet. And the Internet would allow us to keep up with our families. Your mother and sisters could go to my aunt’s house and use her computer. You could see them and talk to them, and they could see you.”

Leah plucked a cloverleaf from the grass and tossed it on to the surface of the water. The breeze whirled it away. Like me, she thought, never to return. “So far away…” she murmured.

“I could refuse the post. I’m serious. I will if you say so. It won’t be the only one offered.”

Leah raised her head and looked into his eyes. “But how long before you’re asked to be the leader again? These are special circumstances, Daniel.”

“I don’t have to be in charge. All I want to do is help people who are sick or injured. Being the leader of a mission is a heavy responsibility. It takes a rare person.”

“If they chose you, they must think you are the best one for the job,” Leah said.

“Maybe…I don’t know.” He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and then lowered it. “I only know that I don’t want to go if it means losing you. I love you, Leah.”

“And I love you,” she said, gazing earnestly into his face. “But if it weren’t for me, would you take this post?”

“I won’t answer that…it isn’t fair. You come first. You’ll always come first in my life.”

She shook her head. “No, be honest with me, Daniel. We’ve always said that God comes first, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but… Maybe this is something
I
want. Maybe it’s a test, not what God has planned for me, but a test to see—”

“No,” she said firmly. “Either I’ll marry you right away and we’ll go to the Amazon together, or I won’t marry you.” She felt moisture well up in her eyes and spill over. “I have to decide. If I really love you, then where we go and what we do doesn’t matter. I’d go with you with a willing heart.”

“This is too much for me to ask of you. Too much too soon.”

“With God and love on our side, nothing is too much,” she answered. “I don’t doubt
you
. It’s
me
. It’s been me all along. I’m not certain I’m strong enough to be the wife you deserve. I need time to think…to decide.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Go home. When you’re near me, I can’t think of anything but you. Come back tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll give you my answer then.”

“Is it changing your faith to mine?” He rose and offered his hand to help her up. “Is that what troubles you?”

She shook her head, getting to her feet. “No, I think I could do that. It feels right. Maybe I was always meant to return to the church my mother was born in. Maybe that’s my heritage, from all the Mennonites who came before her.”

“If it’s not that, then what—”

“Please, Daniel.” She faced him. “If you really love me, you’ll let me think this through.” She took a deep breath. “Whatever I decide, I’ll stick by. You have my word on that.”

He went home as she asked…reluctantly, but he went.

After he was gone, Leah didn’t return to the house. Instead she wandered through the meadow and into the peach orchard. She remembered the previous night so well… She could still feel the warmth of Daniel’s lips on hers and the way it had made her feel. She hadn’t felt wicked or daring, and she hadn’t been ashamed of letting him kiss her. He was the first boy she’d ever kissed, and it had been worth waiting for. There was something about him so sweet and tender…so strong. How could it be wrong for them to be together as man and wife?

But doubt still tugged at her. She was certain Daniel would be a good husband and father, if the Lord saw fit to bless them with children. But was she worthy of him? Could she remain strong when the weeks, months and years stretched between her and her beloved family…when she’d broken the bond with her Amish faith? Or would she become weak and needy of his time and attention? Would she compromise Daniel’s calling to serve as leader and medical caregiver for people who needed him so much?

She wanted to talk to Johanna…ask her opinion. Johanna knew her as well as Mam or any of her other sisters, and Johanna would be honest. If her sister thought she was too weak or might falter, she wouldn’t hesitate to say so. And if Johanna believed that Leah had the strength, she would see past all the obstacles and urge her sister to follow her heart.

Leah started back for the house, walking fast, taking long strides. She’d find Johanna and pull her aside where she could spill out her heart. Leah knew what she wanted, but she needed to hear Johanna say it. But when she reached the farmyard, she stopped short and stared.

Bishop Atlee’s buggy was there, and so was Samuel’s. A red-faced Irwin stood stock-still by the windmill with a bucket of chicken feed in each hand and tears running down his face. As Leah tried to think what could be wrong, she saw Eli running up the lane.

Something was terribly wrong. Someone was dead.
“Mam!” Leah cried as she broke into a run.

Susanna sat on the back step, her face in her hands, weeping.

“What’s happened?” Leah cried as a terrible feeling of dread washed over her. “Is it Mam?” Not her mother or one of her sisters! Not Johanna’s baby or little Jonah! Not Charley, with his laughing ways and easy manner of taking charge! “Aunt Jezzy?”

Susanna raised her head. She was sobbing so hard that she could barely speak. “Johanna,” she managed. “Johanna’s…” She began gasping and hiccupping.

Leah dashed past her and flung open the kitchen door. “Johanna!”

But there was Johanna sitting stone-faced and dry-eyed at the table with both children in her arms, and there was Mam standing behind her, her complexion pale with shock. Leah searched the room with her gaze, counting off those who were dearest to her: Anna, Ruth, Miriam, Rebecca.
Grossmama
sat in the rocker, face pinched, mouth tight. Charley stood behind Miriam, his hand on her shoulder. Anna wasn’t crying, so it couldn’t be one of Samuel’s children who’d come to misfortune.

“What is it?” Leah asked. Familiar faces turned toward her.

Anna caught her hand and drew her aside. “Wilmer,” she whispered. She shook her head. “God rest his soul.”

Leah didn’t understand. “What did he do? He didn’t try to hurt Johanna or the children, did he?”

Anna’s eyes were kind as she tugged Leah back out onto the porch. “My Samuel found him. Wilmer was staying with the bishop until his brother could come from Ohio to take him back there, but last night, he climbed out a window. They looked for him everywhere at the Atlees’. They thought it better not to say anything until they found him. But Samuel, he had a hunch. He went back to the farm and searched. He found him in the corncrib. He had taken his own life, probably last night.” Anna eyes brimmed with compassion. “So awful for Johanna and the children.”

“Poor Johanna,” Leah choked out. “How is she?”

“You know our Johanna. Strong. She hasn’t cried, not one tear, but I know she weeps here.” Anna touched the spot over her heart.

“I am so sorry.”

“Ya,”
Anna murmured. “We all are. He was very troubled, Wilmer. Maybe so sick that God will not hold him responsible for what he’s done.” She squeezed Leah’s hand. “We will pray for him.”

“And for Johanna and the children.”

“
Ya,
for Bishop Atlee as well. He is such a good man, and now he will feel responsible that he tried to help Wilmer and couldn’t.”

Just what Daniel said,
Leah thought.
We should have listened to Daniel and called the police. If we had, Wilmer might still be alive.

“And your Samuel,” she said to her sister. “Poor Samuel.”

Anna bit her lower lip and nodded. “Better it was him than Johanna or one of the children.” Then she opened her arms, and Leah went into her embrace and they cried tears of regret together.

* * *

Leah walked across the field and crossed the road to the chair shop. A
Closed
sign hung in the window; normally, the business would have been open until six on a weekday, but Roman had closed early. She’d passed him and Fannie on their way to Mam’s, so no one was at home there but the children, and they would be in the house or the barnyard. At the shop, she retrieved the key from a nail under the porch and let herself inside the salesroom.

She had to talk to Daniel; Wilmer’s death changed everything. She couldn’t wait for Daniel to come tomorrow for her answer. She had to see him face-to-face, as soon as possible. She went behind the counter where a black phone hung on the wall. Hands damp with moisture, Leah punched in the number for Daniel’s cell phone, and when he answered, she asked him to come.

“What’s is it, Leah? Have you been crying?” Daniel asked.

“Just come to the chair shop. Come now,” she said before hanging up the phone.

Too agitated to sit, she folded her arms and paced up and down the large room. Daniel would understand what she had to do. It would break both of their hearts, but there was no other way. Leaving her family now, when they needed her most—when Johanna needed her most—was impossible. Daniel would understand. And maybe it would be easier this way. Now, she didn’t have to make a decision. The decision had been made for her.

The church would come together to support Johanna and her children in her time of grief. Neighbors would arrange for any work that had to be done at her farm, there would be food to feed all those who would come to offer condolences, and later attend the funeral. Considering the manner of Wilmer’s passing, there was no way to keep the authorities from getting involved, but when they were finished, and Wilmer’s body had been prepared for burial, he would be laid out in Mam’s parlor.

Johanna would sew white trousers and a shirt for Wilmer to be buried in, and the men would place him in a simple pine coffin. Johanna and the family would sit up all night, keeping vigil and praying. The house would be full of visitors until the third day, when the preachers would offer a final service for the deceased and a procession of buggies would file slowly to the
Graabhof
—the Amish cemetery.

The church and the Amish community would unite to help Johanna, but it would be her family that she would need most. Ruth and Miriam and Anna lived nearby, but they had husbands and responsibilities of their own. Leah was the eldest daughter still at home. Supporting Johanna would fall on her shoulders, and it would be impossible to let down those who counted on her. She could no more go off to the jungles of Brazil with Daniel than she could fly off a roof.

The sound of truck tires on gravel tore Leah from her thoughts, and she went out on the porch and down the steps. Daniel got out of the truck and hurried toward her. Each step she took felt as if her shoes were made of concrete, but she forced herself to be brave. She could not be selfish and think of her own happiness. She had to think of Johanna.

“Daniel…” A lump rose in her throat. She would not cry. If she cried, she might not get through what she had to say.

“Leah, I’m so sorry. I just heard about your sister’s husband. My uncle’s a volunteer on the fire department and he called my aunt as I was going out the door.”

He put out his arms, but she stepped away and shook her head.

“I can’t marry you, Daniel. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“You’re upset,” he argued. “We don’t need to talk about this now.”

“Follow your dream,” she said. “Find someone who will be the wife and helpmate you need. But it can’t be me.”

“I’ll tell them
no.
I’ll stay here, Leah—here in Kent County. Maybe, in time—”

She shook her head again. “I can’t leave my family. Not now, not ever. I was wrong to let you think I could.”

“But, Leah—”

“I need you to go, Daniel.” Dry-eyed but weeping inside, she turned and walked back into the chair shop, locked the door behind her and pulled down the blind.

He followed her to the door and banged and called her name, but she didn’t answer. It would be better this way, she told herself, better for her family and better for Daniel. In time, he’d understand that she was right. And the quicker she freed him to go, the kinder it would be for both of them.