Stoney Ridge 03 - The Lesson Read online

  He glanced at her. “Your whole family doesn’t need to go to Ohio.”

  “We were going, anyway.” M.K. put a hand on his arm. “It’s just a few days earlier than planned. Chris, you and Jenny . . . you’re important to us. To all of us.”

  Their eyes met and held. Suddenly, Amos materialized out of nowhere, interrupting the moment. “What’s going on?”

  “AMOS!” Hank shouted from the phone shanty. “You won’t believe the co-ink-a-dinky around here!” He patched together the story of Jenny-gone-missing-and-turning-up-at-Rome-and-Julia’s for Amos, who took in the news with a stunned look. “So Fern’s making plans for all of us to head out to Berlin a little early for Christmas to fetch Jenny.”

  Amos stood beside Chris and M.K., speechless.

  “Amos, you don’t have to go early,” Chris said. “You don’t have to change any plans. I can get there, fetch Jenny, and get back again by myself.”

  Fern stuck her head out of the phone shanty. “Nonsense! We were going anyway. What’s a few days?” Then she popped back to resume her conversation with Rome before Uncle Hank could wrestle the phone from her.

  “Really, Amos,” Chris said. “There’s no need—”

  Amos raised an eyebrow. “You heard Fern.” He looked at Fern in the phone shanty, chattering away with Rome. “Trying to shift my wife’s plans is like trying to persuade a hurricane to change course.”

  Fern popped her head back out of the phone shanty. “M.K., skin on over to Jimmy Fisher’s and tell him we need him to feed the stock for a few days. He needs to mist Chris’s lettuce seedlings three times a day. Three times. Emphasize that for Jimmy. Write it down so he doesn’t forget. He’ll forget if you don’t make it crystal clear. And then go to Sadie’s and see if she wants to come along to Ohio. And then go sweet-talk Alice Smucker into substituting for you tomorrow and Thursday.” She pointed to Chris. “You bring Samson over here by six in the morning. Jimmy can take care of him with the rest of the stock. The van will leave at six in the morning. Don’t be late.” She popped back into the shanty and picked right up with Rome where she left off. Never missed a beat.

  “Well, you heard her.” Amos stared at Chris awkwardly until Chris picked up the cue to leave.

  Chris hopped on Samson’s back. “Tomorrow at six. I’ll be at Windmill Farm.” He reined Samson around and trotted off.

  What had just happened? M.K. was rarely astonished, but she was.

  18

  As Chris nudged Samson forward, a wave of exhaustion rolled over him. He wished he had been able to fend Fern off, to slip off and quietly fetch Jenny from Ohio. But there was both an urgency and a firmness in Fern’s voice as she made plans, and against his better judgment, Chris found himself stepping back and letting her take charge. Worry and fear for Jenny weighed him down like a sack of rocks and it did feel good to share the load.

  He felt grateful to Rome Troyer for being the one to rescue Jenny. But now the entire Lapp family knew about his mother. And how long would it be before the entire town of Stoney Ridge knew? He felt a deep shame—what must Mary Kate think of him?

  The story of his mother was nothing he could ever share with someone as naïve and innocent as Mary Kate Lapp. He could hardly imagine the look on her face if he tried to describe the mean streak his mother had developed after she started to use drugs. She was a different person. He felt tainted—a feeling he had lived with his entire life. Stained by his mother’s choices.

  What kind of a woman would lure her thirteen-year-old daughter hundreds of miles away, only to steal her backpack and leave her stranded? And he couldn’t blame that choice on drugs. His mother was clean, for now. He thought about that postcard—he knew she wanted him to see it. He had no doubt of that. It didn’t surprise him that she had figured out where they were living. She was shrewd like that.

  He was tired of carrying the burden of his unpredictable mother all alone. He was suddenly too sad for tears. His sadness took on a sharp, shining edge.

  As M.K. rounded the bend toward Jimmy Fisher’s house, she saw him heading to the hatchery with a bucket of feed and called to him. ���Dad wants you to take care of the stock for a few days.” She explained the need for the trip to Ohio, only lightly touching on the part about retrieving Jenny. She was still trying to process the news.

  Jimmy howled like a lovesick basset hound. “I knew it. Chris Yoder steals my girl right out from under me.”

  As usual, Jimmy made little sense. “What? What are you talking about?”

  Jimmy looked bothered. “Just what does Chris mean to you?”

  M.K. blinked hard. “Have you been drinking again?”

  “Does Chris Yoder make you laugh?” Jimmy asked.

  “No,” M.K. said honestly. “But you’re not very funny right now, either.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

  “I’m not doing anything to you. I’m going to Ohio with my family for a few days.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “The weasel. He’s trying to snake his way into your family’s hearts. And here I told him my intentions! I thought we were friends!”

  “What intentions are you talking about?” M.K. shivered. She had grabbed her coat when she went out to meet Chris at Windmill Farm, but forgot mittens. “Look, the sun is starting to set and I need to get to Sadie’s before it gets too dark.”

  He flashed her a brilliant smile. “The intention to make you my missus,” he said softly, cupping her face with his hands. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the mouth. “That’s my heartfelt intent. I’ve already spoken to your father.”

  Shocked, M.K. pushed him away. Jimmy Fisher was certifiably crazy. She didn’t want to know any more right now. In a swift and sudden decision, she picked up the scooter and zoomed away.

  “You just remember the thunder and lightning of that kiss while Chris Yoder is trying to woo you in Ohio!” Jimmy called after her.

  M.K. was sure she had felt as astonished as a person could be back at the phone shanty. Now, she felt thoroughly flabbergasted. It was a very strange, new feeling.

  Since Sadie thought they should stay home and keep Alice company for Christmas, Gid offered to fill in as a sub for M.K. Amos was a little disappointed—he had hoped that M.K. would have no option but to stay behind and teach, thus giving distance to Chris. He still hadn’t gotten a handle on how churned up he felt after realizing who Chris’s mother was and what she had done. Today’s story only confirmed to him that this woman had a truly dark spirit.

  Amos knew that he should be able to mentally separate Chris and Jenny from their mother. It wasn’t their fault. He should be praying for God’s mercy on that woman’s soul. Yet all he could think about lately was how much he wanted Grace Mitchell to hurt like he had hurt. It shamed him. He had been taught to love his enemies for his entire life, and here, when it mattered most, he not only didn’t love his enemy, he hated her and everything—everyone—connected with her. He would confess this hatred to God and ask for forgiveness. How could he ever expect God to forgive him for his many sins if he couldn’t forgive someone else? Hadn’t those words of Jesus been etched on his soul from the time of his childhood?

  But there was one thing he wouldn’t bend on. One thing he couldn’t stomach: his darling youngest daughter must not, must not, get involved with that boy and his family.

  Where was Jimmy Fisher and his charm when Amos needed him?

  Jenny helped Julia finish setting the table for dinner and stared out the window, knowing her brother and the Lapps should be arriving any minute. She didn’t know how she would face Chris after what she had done. Julia and Rome were so kind to her. Rome had hired a driver to take him to Marysville to fetch her and get home again—$35.00—and his only remark about it was that seeing her was worth every penny. Julia had drawn a hot bath for her to help her get warm. Jenny’s jacket had been with her backpack too. Her jacket, her money, her book. How could her mother do such a thing? Where had she gone? Was she doi
ng drugs? Probably. Jenny remembered the look in her mother’s eyes when she had seen the cash in Jenny’s wallet. It was a strange look, a hungry look.

  Jenny still couldn’t believe it. After all of those promises.

  It was just like Chris had said: for their mother, drugs came first.

  A sound caught her attention—it was the big van, turning up into the driveway. Julia’s four boys flew outside to meet their grandparents. Rome came out of the barn and joined his sons.

  Jenny looked to Julia. “My brother must be furious with me.”

  Julia put a reassuring hand on Jenny’s shoulder. “We’ll go out together.”

  Chris jumped out of the van before it came to a full stop. He bolted up to the house, taking the porch steps two at a time. The moment she saw him, Jenny was on her feet and running, out the door before Chris reached it. She launched herself into his arms, full body weight, and he caught her close to him, hugging her, and both of them were crying.

  “I’m so sorry!” Jenny said through her tears. “I went to see Mom, and she stole all my stuff and left me at McDonald’s, and I didn’t know where to go or what to do. She stole everything from me. Everything! All of the money I made working for Fern.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Chris said. “All that matters is that you’re safe.”

  Chris spun her around and around until she started to laugh with relief. Everything was going to be okay.

  In the morning, Fern shooed the men out of the house, saying she and the womenfolk were as busy as bird dogs trying to get ready for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Rome wanted to work on a project in the barn, but Hank talked Amos and those four little boys, like stair steps, into going fishing at Black Bottom Pond. Amos tried to insist that Chris come too, but Rome interrupted and said he was counting on his help with building a tree house for the boys for Christmas morning.

  Chris was relieved to get a little space from Amos. He felt as if Amos was practically Velcro-ed to him—he sat next to him in the van, at the fast food restaurants on the road, at supper last night, and again at breakfast this morning. It was as if Amos was doing his best to keep Chris as far from Mary Kate as possible. Chris was pretty sure Amos was savvy to that kiss by the schoolhouse. Why else would he be acting so twitchy? It was as if Amos could read Chris’s thoughts and knew Chris was trying hard not to think about kissing Mary Kate again. There wasn’t much chance of that happening on this trip—he was never alone with her. He was never alone, period. This house was filled with people. Strangely enough, despite everything—the reason they were there—Chris loved every minute of it. He knew it wouldn’t last.

  He set up two sawhorses for Rome to place a two-by-four on top. The two worked side by side, talking now and then, but not about anything important. Until Rome looked up and said, “Chris, what is it you really want in life?”

  Such a deep question startled the truth out of Chris and he blurted out, “I want a home of my own. Something no one can take away from me.”

  Rome sawed the lumber into two pieces, then picked up another two-by-four. “I can understand that. It’s sort of like a homesickness for a place you haven’t come to yet. Being with other families only makes that longing ache deeper.”

  Chris nodded. That was it exactly. As long as he could remember, he was well aware of a hollow place inside of him, like an air bubble caught in a pane of glass. It was always there hanging about, an ache. It wasn’t until he went to live with Old Deborah that he was given a taste of the joys of a normal childhood. It was the main reason he chose to be baptized in the Amish church last summer. He felt as close to that feeling among the Amish as he ever could. But to his dismay—he had since found that the ache was still there, a longing for something that he couldn’t seem to identify. “I don’t think it’s going to happen for me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Let’s face it. I’ve been raised differently. I’m not like all of you. Loving someone, being loved . . . it’s too hard.”

  “You’re wrong about love. Love isn’t hard. Life is hard. But when two people love each other, they create a haven.” Rome sawed the other board in half and set it against the wall. “That feeling of longing isn’t going to go away when you marry and have children.”

  Chris looked at him sharply. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t it?”

  “Because the problem is in here.” He thumped his chest. “Because that feeling—wanting to belong, wanting to be valued—that can only get filled by God. You can’t expect anyone to do that for you. That’s God’s work.”

  Chris was silent.

  “I know you’ve had to face some hard things in your life. Ideally, you’ll be able to bring everything together—and find God’s purpose for your life in the process. He allows hard things like the one that involves your mother in order to shape us into better people. It’s not his will that we suffer, but he can bring good from it if you’ll let him.”

  Chris gave a little laugh that sounded more like a cough. “I can’t see any good in having a mother who is a drug addict. Look at what just happened to Jenny. Hopes rise, our mother disappoints. Over and over again. It never ends. It never will end.”

  Rome picked up another piece of lumber and set it on the sawhorses. “Your mother’s addiction brought you to Old Deborah. She brought you to church. Church brought you to us, and now to the Lapp family.” He handed a saw to Chris to hold. “You’re sweet on Mary Kate, aren’t you?”

  Chris looked away. Was it that obvious? “I didn’t expect this,” he said, finding his voice again. “I wasn’t planning on this. But when I met her, she was the exact person I’d been waiting for. I’d thought I wasn’t looking, but really I’d been just waiting for her without knowing that I was waiting, without knowing that I’d been missing her before we met.”

  Rome grinned and tossed him a pair of leather gloves to use. “Chris, all the loose ends start coming together when you trust God both with your past and your future. That’s what I have found to be true in my life. I pray that you’ll do the same.”

  Chris wished he could borrow some of Rome’s confidence, some of his faith, the way he could borrow the leather gloves to keep his hands safe. If only he could be as sure as Rome. Sometimes, just being around Rome, he did feel more confidence, like Rome rubbed off on him. Made him a stronger man. But faith, Old Deborah had taught him, wasn’t something you could borrow from anyone.

  The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and coffee. Fern scattered a layer of fine white flour across the surface of the counter. She and Jenny worked side by side, elbow to elbow, kneading, turning, punching the dough. In that clairvoyant way she had, Fern sensed Jenny had something to work out. Julia slipped upstairs to lie down for a few moments while the house was quiet.

  Last night, while Jenny and M.K. were getting ready for bed, M.K. had confided that Julia was in the family way and that she was having morning sickness all day long. Julia felt confident that this time she was going to have a girl. “Julia has thought she was having a girl four times now,” M.K. had whispered. “Julia always thinks she knows everything, but Sadie and I don’t put much stock in her sixth sense.”

  It almost made Jenny cry. Tears would actually have spilled if she hadn’t swallowed fast. There was just something so . . . so sisterly about the whispered confidences. Somewhere along the way, despite her best efforts, Jenny had begun to grow fond of Teacher M.K.

  She knew her brother was sweet on her teacher—she had known ever since that first dinner at Windmill Farm when she caught him watching her with that goofy look on his face. She knew there was a selfish part of her that didn’t want to share Chris. For months, Jenny had felt suspicious about Teacher M.K., waiting to see if she started to treat her differently than the other scholars. Trying to gain Chris’s favor through Jenny. It had happened in Ohio with other girls, more than a few times. But Teacher M.K. didn’t seem to be changing in any way. She expected the best out of each scholar, even Eugene Miller. Jenny’s wary caution was starting to ea
se up around Teacher M.K. Just a little.

  Jenny bent over and inhaled the tangy scent of the yeast in the dough. Fern sprinkled another dusting of flour over the ball of dough. Their elbows bumped as they worked. It was like Fern carried a force field of quietness, and when she came close, it wrapped around Jenny. Tears prickled her eyes. Would she ever stop crying over her mother, ever stop feeling so fragile?

  When the dough was finished, Fern put it in an oiled bowl, covered it with a damp dishrag, and set it on the windowsill to catch the winter rays of sun.

  Then Fern took Jenny’s hands in both of hers and gently squeezed. Jenny remembered when she had first noticed Fern’s hands, months ago, and thought they were rough and worn and reddened from too much work. Today they looked beautiful to her.

  “You know, Jenny, you live long enough in this world and you’re going to get rained on. It’s as simple as that.”

  Jenny took a deep heaving breath. “My mother is not ever going to be well, is she? God can’t fix her.”

  “Just because God can heal her and that is what you want, it doesn’t mean it will happen. Faith means we trust God will act in love.”

  “I hate her,” Jenny sobbed. “But I love her.”

  Fern opened her arms and Jenny fell into them. “Remember, though, that sometimes you can love and forgive somebody, but you might still want to keep your distance.”

  There was something wonderful about that moment. She savored it and promised herself never to forget. Whenever she fell into Fern’s arms—twice now—it was just like falling into the arms of a mother. A real mother. This terrible thing had sent her into the arms of something called Family.