Love Still Stands (39 page)

“Backward,” Mark finished. “I know that’s lame. But they don’t know any better. When
they get to know y’all, they’ll think differently.”

“Kind of like you guys were when Bethel first came to therapy.” Shawn pulled his chair
closer to Bethel. “Kind of ignorant, huh?”

“Hey, I’m not ignorant. I learn.”

“Okay, boys, okay.” Bethel held up her hands. “We all learn. That’s the nice thing
about it. We can all learn and do better.”

“I don’t know.” Elijah’s frown spread into an all-out scowl. “You don’t seem to have
learned anything at all.”

He stalked away, leaving her standing there with Viola, who looked as if she didn’t
know whether to follow him or melt into the scenery.

“He sure has a burr under his saddle,” said Shawn. “Or is he just a sourpuss in general?”

“He wasn’t a sourpuss when he went to get help for you on Thanksgiving,” Bethel pointed
out, not sure why she was defending Elijah. He did have a burr under his saddle. “He
went out of his way to help.”

“I know, I know.” Shawn had the good grace to look abashed. “And I never thanked him.”

“No thanks are needed. He’d do the same for anyone in need.”

“But he is very nice.” Viola’s gaze seemed riveted to the spot where Elijah had stood.
After a second, she swiveled toward Bethel. “It looks to me like he has heartburn.”

“Heartburn?” Whatever made the woman say such a thing? She obviously didn’t know Elijah
that well. He had a cast-iron stomach. “How can you tell?”

“It’s obvious his heart hurts.” The other woman’s face had turned wistful. “I’d rather
think it’s something he ate than someone who hurt him.”

With that extraordinary statement, she strolled away, package tucked under her arm.

“What was that all about?” Doctor Jasmine asked in her therapy voice. It seemed the
sessions went on, even in the great outdoors. “Is she friend or foe?”

“I don’t know.” Resolute, Bethel turned to her little therapy group. “But what I do
know is I’m glad you came. Thank you.”

“Our parents may be old and stuck in their ways, but not us.” Mark sucked on his oxygen.
“We’re way cooler than they are.”

“No kidding. They’re totally clueless,” Crystal added. “My parents still think you
guys are bigamists.”

“And let little girls get married.” Mark sucked in more air. “I tried to tell them.”

“Keep trying.” Shawn had a satisfied look on his face. No doubt he had enjoyed Elijah’s
sudden exit. Bethel hoped not. She hoped he was a better man than that. “Change is
hard.”

“Look who’s talking.” Doctor Jasmine patted his shoulder. “Have you adjusted to the
changes in your life? No more drinking and driving.”

“Nope, I learned my lesson. Cross my heart. Now, I’m gonna bid on a horse.” He jolted
the chair away from them. “How’s that for change?”

They all laughed. Bethel didn’t tell him no horses were for sale at the auction. He’d
figure it out soon enough.

“I’m serious.”

“You have a place to keep a horse?” Sheriff McCormack squeezed between two wheelchairs
and stopped next to Doctor Jasmine, his hands stuck in the pockets of his shiny navy
jacket with its gold insignia. “You have money to pay for feed and hay and a vet?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Shawn’s bravado turned to a mumble.

“That’s what I thought.” The sheriff turned to Bethel. “Who do I talk to about those
outhouses?”

“About the outhouses?” The girls’ and boys’ outhouses on either side of the schoolhouse
were marked and open to whoever needed them. Her face went hot. “They’re right there,
Sheriff.”

“I know. I see them. What I want to know is if they’re constructed with cement tanks
to hold the waste.”

“The waste.” By now her skin burned so hot, she might burst into flames. “I’m sorry?”

“You have to have a permit, and you need to contract with a certified, inspected company
to haul off the waste.”

“I…I’m…I don’t…” She had no idea what he was talking about. “We use the waste as fertilizer.”

The sheriff made a
tsk-tsk
sound. “Like I said, who do I talk to about the outhouses?”

Bethel tried to hide her flinch. Poor Luke. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate.

“Sheriff, it’s good to see you here.” Luke strode toward them, a friendly smile firmly
fixed on his face as if he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see this particular Englischer
at their sale.

“I doubt that.” The sheriff stalked past his son’s wheelchair and into Luke’s path.
“Let’s talk outhouses.”

The sheriff kept talking, but Luke had stopped listening. On top of everything else,
this man wanted him to close the outhouses at the school and buy the services of a
company that would bring out portable bathrooms. He’d never heard of such a thing.

“You understand these are the rules?” The sheriff stared at him with a perplexed look
on his face. “Everyone has to follow the rules. Even folks like you.”

Luke realized the other man was waiting for a response. “I understand.”

He didn’t, but what else could he say? He wouldn’t pick a fight with the town over
outhouses. Rules were rules. They would figure out a way to make it work.

“Mr. Shirack. Mr. Shirack. There you are!”

He turned to see Diana Doolittle trotting in their direction, her plump red face wreathed
by the brightest, pinkest scarf he’d ever seen. She wore a pink down jacket that added
bulk to her already plump body and pink polka-dotted rain boots. Looking uncertain,
Doo, the boy who’d spray painted the barn, dragged his feet behind her. They’d come
to the auction. Luke turned that startling revelation over in his mind. They’d come
to the school fund-raiser.

“Diana.” Not knowing what else to do, he shook the hand she proffered. “You’re here.”

She nodded at the sheriff, but didn’t shake his hand. “I am. Of course. I wouldn’t
miss this auction for anything. I want one of those gorgeous quilts.” She nudged the
bony arm of her son. “This is my boy. John Doolittle. But then I suspect you know
that.”

He nodded. Something about this loud, bright woman made him tongue-tied. He hadn’t
been tongue-tied since he was a teenager taking Leah for a ride in his buggy after
a singing. The memory made his chest clinch and hold, as if frozen mid-beat. He sucked
in cold air and tried to focus.

“Does Bob know you’re here?” Sheriff McCormack had a pinched look on his face liked
he’d smelled a skunk. “Who’s minding the store?”

“Not that it’s any of your beeswax, Virgil, but my sister Julie Ann is working today
and Bob is over in St. Joe looking at a new truck.” She sniffed. “I don’t need his
permission to attend an auction. I’m a grown woman and an entrepreneur. I’m just here
looking for goods I can sell in my store.”

The sheriff looked mighty put out at her response. He opened his mouth but then shut
it as if he’d figured this was an argument he couldn’t win. Luke suspected he was
right.

“Doo’s the one who suggested we come.” Diana put her arm around Doo’s waist and squeezed.
The boy turned beet red and squirmed from her grasp. “He said you all are good folks.
He wouldn’t say how he knows that, but I’m thinking there’s something he’s not telling
me.”

Luke raised his eyebrows and his shoulders, but kept his mouth shut. He nodded at
Doo and the boy nodded back, his long hair flopping in his face.

“That’s what I thought.” Diana shook her head. “Whatever it is, I apologize. I do
that a lot for this boy, but what can I say. He takes after his dad.”

“Ma!”

“Hush. Go buy me a dozen fry pies.” She extracted a wad of bills from her too-tight
jeans, peeled off a twenty, and handed it to her son. “And a cup of hot chocolate.
Now—what are
you
doing here?” She turned her bright gaze on Sheriff McCormack, whose face turned the
same color as her son’s. “I don’t imagine you’re in the market for a new quilt or
an old combine. I’m betting you’re stirring up trouble for these good folks. I bet
old Sam sent you to bug them about some stupid regulation he made up when he was mayor.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Somebody break the law here?” She sniffed with disdain. “Maybe it was my husband
who sent you out here. Him and Sam are thick as thieves and about as smart.”

“Now, Di, don’t
you
be sticking your nose where it don’t belong.”

“Me?” She thumped her chest with the palm of her hand, her eyes wide in exaggerated
surprise. “Like I would ever do a thing like that.”

The sheriff grunted and turned to Luke. “Remember what I said about the outhouses.”

“I will.”

With that Sheriff McCormack took his leave without saying goodbye.

“Good riddance,” Diana said after he was out of earshot. “That man has the social
skills of an orangutan.”

“I reckon he’s just doing what he thinks is best for his town.”

“What’s best for this town is to keep our minds and our hearts open.” To Luke’s utter
amazement, she patted his arm. “We claim to be good Christians. We should act like
it, don’t you think?”

“I do.”

She smiled. “So, the first order of business is to buy myself one of those quilts.
Point me in the right direction.”

Feeling better than he had in weeks, Luke did as he was told.

Chapter 36

H
er breath making little white puffy clouds in front of her, Bethel whipped along the
path to the school. Even with the crutches under her arms she made good time. She
felt good. She felt useful. At her insistence, Ida had dropped her at the beginning
of the path that led from their farm road to the school so she could walk the last
part of the way, just as she always had in the past. A few days of sunshine had melted
most of the latest snowfall, but this morning the air wafted crisp and cold around
her ears. An overnight freeze made the brown stubble of grass crunch under her feet.
She ignored the stench of the blue port-a-potties, one on each side of the outhouses,
with their yellow caution tape drawn across the entrances. Luke had tried to get an
exception for their outhouses, but the health department inspector wouldn’t budge.
Next step was some board of variances. Luke’s expression when he explained this hadn’t
boded well. Nevertheless, nothing would spoil her mood today. Not when she would be
at the front of the classroom for at least part of it. As Deborah’s helper, of course,
but it still gave her a sense of purpose that had been missing from her life.

“Teacher, teacher, you’re back!” Eli Brennaman straightened from the tree where he
leaned, a baseball in one gloved hand. The boy loved his baseball, even in winter.
The other boys who were crowded around him all turned to look at her. “Where’s Deborah?
Isn’t she going to be our teacher anymore?”

The muscles in Bethel’s lower back spasmed. She suppressed a wince and slowed. “Isn’t
she here?”

“She’s usually here when we get here. She starts the fire so the room will be warm,”
Eli’s sister Rebecca chimed in from where she sat on the front step. “She likes to
clean the room too, even though she cleans it before she leaves in the afternoon.
She’s says a clean room helps us learn.”

“I’m sure she’s just running a little behind today.” Bethel breathed a prayer she
was right. She hadn’t prepared lessons, thinking she would be following Deborah’s
lead. “Did you boys bring in wood? It’s chilly this morning. We might get some more
snow before the end of the day.”

“We did,” the boys chorused. “Lots of wood.”

“And we started the fire,” Rebecca added. “And put away the lunches.”

“Very good. Then I’ll go inside and make sure everything is ready.”

And hope Deborah showed up.

“Bethel, Bethel, wait.”

She paused on the small porch and turned. Deborah’s brother Enos Daugherty halted
his horse, reins pulled tight. This didn’t look good. Why was Enos here and not Deborah?
Her empty stomach tightened. Silly as it seemed, she’d been too nervous to eat breakfast.
“Gudemariye.”

“Gudemariye. Mudder sent me to tell you Deborah is sick. She’s running a fever. She
can’t come.”