Love Still Stands (16 page)

Ed, an elderly man with a walker, was recovering from a stroke. His wife had died
only a few months earlier, he informed her, his face morose, his voice quivering with
barely contained emotion. A chubby lady named Janice Lytle had crutches at her side
that looked just like Bethel’s. She turned out to be the victim of a hit-and-run driver.
She’d been trying to lose weight by riding her bike on the road near her house. “They
never found the guy who did it. It happened so fast I really couldn’t give them much
to go on.” She plucked at a thread on her snug denim pants. “To be fair, I’m not even
sure what kind of car it was.”

When Shawn’s turn came, he shrugged. “You know about me.”

“Just your name.” She squirmed in her chair, wishing she had let it go. “Not your
story.”

“My story?” His light tone seemed forced this morning. “I graduated from high school
and I decided to serve my country, see the world, and get an education at the same
time. I wanted to get away from this town. Instead, I ended up back here for good.
I thought…”

Bethel waited, wanting to know what he thought, but he didn’t finish. Doctor Jasmine
nodded to the remaining member of their group. A tall, pretty woman in a lacy green
dress with a white collar that was too fancy for the meeting. The color made her hazel
eyes stand out against beautiful white skin. She also sat in a wheelchair, her hands,
with their long, elegant fingers and diamond rings lying limp in her lap. “My name
is Elaine Haag.” She had a low, melodious voice that made everyone lean forward slightly
as if she had something very important to say. “I have MS. I’m a homemaker. I have
three children.”

Bethel scrambled to remember. MS. Multiple sclerosis. She nodded.

“A homemaker,” Crystal snorted. “She used to be a model in New York City. She was
an actress.”

“Crystal, you had your turn. This is Elaine’s turn. Remember the rules.” Doctor Jasmine
held up one finger, its neatly trimmed nail painted a pale pink. “No interrupting
and let others have their turn. Were you done, Elaine?”

Elaine nodded.

“Come on. At least let her know who she’s dealing with. Full disclosure.” Crystal
jerked a thumb at Elaine. Her nails were painted black. “Her husband is on City Council
and he runs the bank. She’s very important people here in little New Hope. A VIP.”

Elaine gave Bethel a small smile. “Don’t mind her, she’s allowed her anger over her
accident to stunt her emotional growth.”

“Hey—”

“Enough. Bethel’s turn.” Doctor Jasmine’s tone brooked no argument. “Go ahead, Bethel.”

Bethel nodded. She wanted to get off on the right foot with these people. All of them
had a story to tell. All of them had challenges similar to hers, each in their own
way.

“I’m Bethel. I used to be a schoolteacher—”

“I can’t hear you.” That from Ed. He cupped a hand to his ear, which sported a tiny
hearing aid. “Speak up.”

She tried again. “I used to be a schoolteacher. Then there was a storm.”

“A tornado?” Crystal interrupted. She apparently didn’t understand the rules or liked
to ignore them. “Like Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz
. Where are your ruby red slippers? Do you know you’re not in Kansas anymore?”

Mark guffawed, but Shawn glared at Crystal. Bethel hadn’t seen the movie, but she
knew the story. She could tell from the girl’s tone that she meant to make fun of
Bethel, but she smiled anyway. “Not a tornado. Just high, straight winds that took
the building apart.” She smoothed her apron, remembering. “Anyway, I hurt my back
and it affected my legs so here I am.”

“Why do you dress like that?” Mark asked. He gasped a little for air whenever he spoke.
A brace held him in his wheelchair and kept his head held back so he had to peek at
her from the corner of his eye. “I mean, you look like a pioneer or something.”

“She’s Amish.” Shawn broke in.

“Like those people in Utah who used to have more than one wife?” Crystal smirked.
“That’s totally gross. People around here won’t put up with that kind of stuff.”

“No, no, we don’t—”

“Or that cult in Texas where the guys marry little girls?” Mark threw in the question.
“We especially don’t put up with that. The men around here will ride your kind out
of town on a rail. They’re real good with their rifles.”

Bethel worked to remain calm. She grasped for words but they skittered away.

“You’re such an idiot. Leave it to the high school principal’s son to be ignorant
and start talking about rifles and running people out of town.” Shawn roared to her
defense before she could manage to do it herself. “You’re as stupid as your jock friends.
The Amish are Christians. They just don’t use electricity or drive cars. They don’t
have phones. They like to keep to themselves so they don’t get all caught up in the
bad things happening in this world. That’s it. They’re farmers, like most people around
here.”

Mark’s face turned a deep purple and he sputtered, but before he could retort, Doctor
Jasmine held up both of her hands in a stop signal.

“We don’t tolerate name-calling, Shawn. You know better. It’s nice that you’ve done
your homework, but there’s no need to attack other members of this group. We support
each other. We don’t tear people down.” Doctor Jasmine’s voice remained soft, but
Shawn hung his head, a mottled red creeping across his cheeks and overtaking the scars.
“You seem a little out of whack this morning. Why don’t you tell us what’s going on
with you?”

He squirmed in his chair, glowering at the floor. Bethel appreciated his explanation
of her community, but she didn’t need his help. She could defend herself. She felt
hot and then cold with the aftermath of the unexpected attack from two people who
looked not much older than her scholars. How did people get these strange ideas? From
television?

“Shawn, what’s going on?” Doctor Jasmine’s gently insistent voice broke through Bethel’s
reverie. “Remember, that’s what we’re here for, to help each other through our daily
challenges.”

“I went in to see my military doc yesterday in Springfield.” Shawn cleared his throat
and looked over Bethel’s shoulder at the windows on the far wall. “Same story. No
improvement. He says this is it. This is as good as it gets.”

His expression bleak, he beat a rhythm on the wheelchair arms with both gnarled hands.

“You knew that. You’ve expected it.” Doctor Jasmine’s voice softened some more. “Something
else is bothering you.”

The rhythmic
slap slap
of his hands stilled. “My parents are getting a divorce.”

“I’m sorry.”

No wonder Sheriff McCormack had been so cantankerous. Like her mudder said, walk a
mile in the other person’s boots. The conviction that she had been uncharitable toward
the man who’d strolled through their new home shamed Bethel. No matter his behavior,
hers should’ve been better. She wanted to say something to Shawn, something comforting
but the thought that she might draw attention to herself made her heart pound.
Go on. Go, say something
. She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

Mark’s oxygen machine slurped. “I’m sorry, dude,” he wheezed. “I know how that is.
Mine only made it six months after my accident.”

So simple. Simple words. Why couldn’t she say them? Bethel’s cheeks warmed. She’d
spoken in front of her scholars hundreds of times, maybe thousands. Yet she couldn’t
offer simple words of support to this one man in front of seven other people.
Gott, forgive me
.

Shawn nodded at Mark, but he didn’t make eye contact with the other group members.
His gaze roved toward the windows again.

“It’s not your fault,” Crystal added, her surly attitude gone. She dropped the lock
of hair she’d been twisting between her thumb and forefinger and dug around in a denim
purse, finally producing a bedraggled tissue which she proceeded to offer to Shawn.
He shook his head and muttered his thanks. She shrugged and used it herself with a
loud honking sound. “We all know that’s what happens. The stress and money stuff—it
gets to them. My dad sleeps on the couch a lot, and he drinks more than he used to
do.”

“Crystal’s right. It’s not your fault,” Doctor Jasmine added. “Do you feel like it’s
your fault?”

Shawn’s jaw worked. A pulse pounded in his temple. “The military pays for my medical
care, but my parents had to make the house accessible, but that’s not what they fight
about. They think I’m never going to have a life now. I have no future. They think
they won’t have grandkids. I’ll live at home forever and be a burden to them in their
old age.” Even as the words picked up steam, his voice broke and then faltered. He
cleared his throat again. “They fight about what to do, how to help me, whose fault
it was that I joined the army. I hear them through the walls when they think I’m asleep.
Finally, he comes in and tells me he’s moving out, that it’s for the best, that all
this fighting isn’t good for me. For me? When I tried to talk to my mom, she said
it was over. She said it had nothing to do with me, but that’s not true. I’d have
to be deaf to think it wasn’t.”

The Shirack and Graber families didn’t fight about money or whose fault Bethel’s injuries
were. She was family. How blessed she was to have her family and her community of
faith. The thought hit her with renewed joy. Her parents, sad though they might be
at her diminished capacity as a woman, would see it as God’s will and welcome her
home at any time. Family meant everything in her community. She couldn’t imagine not
having that.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Emotion caught at her voice. She ignored it. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, darlin’.” His crooked grin took her back to the previous day. It
was all an act, she realized. Shawn didn’t want people to see his pain. The swagger
in his voice and the cocky upward tilt of his chin were simply show. “I know how you
can make me feel better, though.”

“Shawn, stay on point here.” Doctor Jasmine stood and went to his side. She laid a
hand on his shoulder. “Look at me.”

He ducked his head.

“Look at me, please.”

He raised his head. His gaze landed on Bethel first and she saw the hurt there and
the question as if he begged her for something. What, she couldn’t be sure.

“Shawn.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed and he looked up at the doctor.

“You know it’s not your fault, right? You’re not responsible for the actions of the
people around you or their inability to handle what’s happened to you.” The kindness
in her voice made Bethel’s throat tighten. “Do you think they’re right? That you have
no future?”

He sniffed. This time his gaze met Bethel’s head-on. “No. They’re dead wrong. Just
because I’m in a chair doesn’t mean I can’t have a life. Or a family. I’m gonna have
it all.”

“Good. That’s good.” Doctor Jasmine sounded brisk now. She returned to her seat. “Bethel,
you said there was a storm. Tell us what happened.”

Back to her again. Bethel managed to stifle a groan. Her story didn’t compare to war
wounds or diving accidents or a hit-and-run driver. “There’s not much to tell. I was
teaching and a storm came up. That happens a lot in Kansas. I didn’t think much of
it. I kept teaching.” She closed her eyes, seeing the faces of her scholars. They
trusted her. When she told them to keep working on their sums, they kept working.
“I kept teaching until the wind tore the building apart.”

“Were the children hurt too?” Elaine, the one among them who had young children of
her own. She would understand. “How badly?”

“Yes, they were hurt, some of them badly. The wind picked up the desks and dropped
them on us. The windows shattered and tree branches fell on top of us. The roof was
ripped off.”

“Didn’t you have a basement? How come you didn’t go in the basement?” Her face avid
with curiosity, Crystal leaned forward in her chair. “Do you feel guilty?”

Guilty? Yes, she felt guilty every time she thought of Lettie with her broken legs
and Seth with his concussion and Ruth Ann, who was in the hospital almost a month.
“It happened so suddenly. I thought it was just a storm. We have lots of storms. I
thought it would pass.”

“So you think their injuries and your injuries are your fault?” Shawn shook his head.
“I know all about that. If I had done something different in Paktika, maybe the humvee
wouldn’t have blown up when it ran over the IED. Maybe my buddies would still be alive.
That’s the thing about hindsight. It’s twenty-twenty.”

Yes, hindsight. The terrified faces of the children reeled through her head, one after
the other. Their screams swirled around her. She swallowed against the bitter taste
in the back of her throat. “It
was
my fault. As the teacher, I had the responsibility to keep them safe, but they’ve
forgiven me.”

“So you only have to forgive yourself.” Doctor Jasmine smiled. “We’ll work on that.
Mark, how about you? How was your week?”

To Bethel’s immense relief, Jasmine moved on and the conversation flowed around her.
She looked at her hands in her lap. Her fingers were white in the intensity of her
grip. Her fingernails had left red half moon imprints on her skin. She loosened them
and forced herself to take a long breath. The children and their parents had forgiven
her.