Anna's Healing (44 page)

She looked out, scanning the crowd from left to right, and seeing some from her Amish community on the edges.

“I can't tell you that. But I can tell you, with certainty, that your love for each other is stronger than the suffering. And
Gotte
's love?

“The length and width and height and depth of our Father's love is greater than anything we can imagine.”

CHAPTER 67

C
hloe stayed another hour. They all rode back to the house, where Anna insisted that she wanted to spend a little time in her garden. They walked together down the rows, pausing to prune some plants and pull ripened vegetables. The tension from the morning, from the last week, seemed to drain into the soil.

But soon Anna began rubbing her eyes and yawning. Chloe laughed when she dropped onto the wooden bench in the corner of the garden.

“You're exhausted, and yet you fight it.”

“
Ya
, I feel like a child who refuses to take a nap.”

“Well, you were up all night.”

Anna nodded, and then she told Chloe everything that had happened—she described Spencer and her fear and the drive and the motor home. She told her about Peggy and Karen. She tried to put into words how much that family loved one another.

“I suppose all families do.”

“
Ya
, but we don't always show it. Life keeps us busy. In Spencer and Karen's case, life had finally slowed down. The job was over. The house was sold. What was left was the relationship between them.”

Chloe stood, reached for Anna's hands, and pulled her to her feet. It was obvious her friend was exhausted. She finally convinced her to go inside and rest.

Jacob and Erin walked Chloe to the car.

“Thank you for everything,” Erin said, enfolding her in a hug.

“Jacob, call from the phone shack if Anna needs me.” She waited until he nodded before starting the car and driving down the lane.

Already the crowd had dwindled to only a few folks.

Anna had been right. Hiding had made it worse. When she answered their questions, when she allowed them to see her, the need to wait and stare and photograph disappeared.

Chloe pulled out onto the blacktop and waved at the two officers who remained. It had been decided that they would stay until evening. Samuel wanted the farm to return to normal. If people insisted on trespassing… well, the Amish in general didn't mind a visitor or two. Perhaps he could sell them something from the produce stand.

As she pulled down the road, she spied a dog walking along the fence line. She couldn't remember ever having seen a dog at Samuel's place before. Maybe it was a stray. The dog was medium build, a mottled blend of Labrador and blue heeler if she guessed right. As she looked in her rearview mirror, the dog slunk down beside the property fence, ducked under it, and trotted toward the house. The stray moved as if he had a destination in mind.

Tonight she would file another report, perhaps the final report on Anna. What would she say? How could she possibly describe the events of the past week?

Suddenly she realized that people's responses weren't dependent on her or her ability to turn the perfect phrase. There were three types of people who would read her piece. The first would be those who were simply curious. She couldn't blame them. Miracles were rare occurrences. These people weren't personally invested in the story, but they would want a conclusion, as if it were a book they needed to finish and feel good about. They were waiting for the happy ending.

The second type of people was more desperate. They longed for a cure to whatever ailed them. When they realized the cure wouldn't come through Anna's hands, they would quickly turn to the next story or prophet or remedy.

Chloe didn't need to write an article for either of those two groups. She realized now that writing was more than a job, it was a calling. She needed to approach it with prayers for wisdom. She needed to consider
the influence her words had on people—and at the moment she was concerned about the third group. The group that would recognize the truth when they heard it. The people who needed to be nudged back toward home, toward their faith, and toward the future God already had planned for them.

The words formed in her mind as she drove toward her apartment. She could see the article taking shape, and she stopped worrying about whether or not she could do it. Her mind moved past the job, and she realized she hadn't seen her mother since they had spent the night at her house.

Chloe reached the suburb where she lived in a downtown apartment. As usual, vendors had opened up their shops and had moved displays out onto the sidewalk. She nabbed a parking spot in front of her building, grabbed her purse and computer, and locked the car. Turning, she walked back toward the corner store, which carried fresh coffee and hot pastries. She could use one of each. But that wasn't what had caught her eye as she'd driven by.

Near the door was an old washtub filled with water and holding various bouquets of flowers. She chose one with yellow and white daisies—her mother's favorite. She would go upstairs, file her report, and then she would call her mom. Perhaps they could share a meal. It was time that she stop avoiding her childhood home because her father wasn't there. Admitting that she had done so for so long hurt. She'd thrown herself into her job so that she could avoid the hole wrought by her father's death. But she still had family, and she wanted to embrace that.

Her mother was alive and well, and Chloe wanted to spend time with her. She'd slowly come to realize, over the last year, that she missed her mom, something that was completely unnecessary because she lived only a few miles away.

“It's a beautiful morning to buy flowers.” The clerk smiled at her as he rang up her purchases. He was probably Chloe's age, tall, with a crew cut and wearing a green work apron.

“It is,” she agreed. “I don't believe I've seen you here before.”

“I started a few days ago. My brother—Andre—is expanding to
include a deli. He needed some help, so I volunteered.” He shrugged and handed her the change and a drink carrier holding her coffee and a pastry stuffed in the side. “My name's Carlos.”

Normally Chloe would have thanked him and turned away, but today was different. In the back of her mind she was still thinking of Anna and her admonition that they all had a limited amount of time. She was thinking of the length and width and height and depth of God's love. So instead of walking away, she juggled her packages and held out her right hand.

“I'm Chloe. Nice to meet you, Carlos.”

His polite smile turned into a grin. “Nice to meet you.”

She started toward the door. She stopped with her hand on the glass, turned back, and added, “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

CHAPTER 68

A
ugust gave way to September, cooler temperatures, and another approaching harvest. The weeks since Anna had been healed, abducted, and returned had been filled with highs and lows. Some days she was sure what path her life should take. Other days? Not so much.

One surprise was that they had adopted a stray hound dog and named him Jake. He was completely devoted to them, and Anna delighted in sitting on the porch and running her hand through his fur.

Looking out the window over the kitchen sink, Anna realized that winter wasn't far away. She would need to decide soon if she was staying in Oklahoma or returning to Indiana.

They had finished dinner, and Anna was helping with the dishes as Jacob walked to the barn with Samuel.

“Those two, they walk about like father and son.” Erin smiled as she dipped dinner plates into the sudsy water.

Anna noticed that her
aenti
's moments of introspection and gloominess occurred less often of late. It was easy enough to guess the reasons for that, or part of the reason.

It was harder to understand why the last year had occurred as it had.

Why had the storm taken so much from them? Why was she grievously injured? Why was she miraculously healed?

The questions were never far from her mind, but as usual, life often interrupted her thought process about the time she started chasing those questions round and round.

“I've forgotten my glasses again.”
Mammi
had settled in her rocker with the Bible on her lap. When she pushed her hands against the arms of the chair, Anna stopped her.

“I'll get them.”

“
Danki
, Anna. Probably they're in the sitting room next to my sewing.”

Hurrying from the room, she caught the smile exchanged between the two women. Yes, she could walk from one room to another without help now. That had lifted her
aenti
's burden of guilt, she was sure, but there was something else too.

Perhaps it had to do with the dream of the rainbows. Had God given her that vision? Had He used her as a vessel to bless others?

Was that why she had been injured? To provide her
aenti
with assurance that she would see her daughter again once she passed from this life to the next? And if that was the reason, why was she healed? She would have shared the dream with her
aenti
whether she'd walked again or not.

She shook her head and retrieved the glasses.

There was no way to know. All of the talks with Bishop Levi, letters exchanged with her parents, and evenings spent listening to
Mammi
's prayers hadn't answered her questions. Perhaps she would never have those answers. It was enough to know that her
aenti
's heart had been lifted from a pit of misery and despair.

She returned with
Mammi
's glasses. When she handed them to her,
Mammi
reached up, placed a palm against Anna's right cheek, and planted a kiss on the other. Pushing the glasses onto the bridge of her nose, she smiled at her granddaughter and shooed her away.

For some reason
Mammi
's gentleness brought tears to Anna's eyes. She never used to cry. Now it seemed to be a daily occurrence. Her tears weren't from sadness, but more from the fact that her emotions, her heart, felt raw.

She felt as vulnerable and sensitive as a newborn child. Perhaps she had been reborn, in more than one way.

Erin and Anna finished the dishes quickly, with only a few words exchanged. But now the silence that pervaded the kitchen soothed
Anna's soul rather than irritating it the way it had done when she'd first come. More and more she sought such moments of peace.

All three women moved to the sitting room. Anna sat on the couch and picked up the lap quilt she was currently working on. Her mind flashed back to the other dream, the one where she had sewn the quilt pieces together incorrectly not once but many times. The nine patch in her lap showed the improvement in her quilting. Had it taken being confined to a chair for her to learn to appreciate being still, the feel of pushing a needle through fabric, the simple beauty of a pattern put together in a pleasing design?

“Those colors are coming together quite well, Anna.”
Mammi
pushed up her glasses and clucked as she took up her own sewing—a small blue dress for one of her grandchildren in Goshen.

“
Danki
.” The solid squares of brown, blue, and dark green against the specialty print of puppies in rain boots made for an interesting contrast. Anna thought of Chloe's mom and the modern quilts she made. She glanced over at her
aenti
, who was working on a traditional log cabin pattern. Turning her attention back to her own work, she realized it represented a bridge between the two styles—between the traditional Amish and the modern
Englisch
.

She continued to quilt until a knock at the front door interrupted the silence.

“I'll get that.” Erin was out of her chair before Anna could argue. Anna understood that not only was her
aenti
's heart lighter, but she moved and reacted like a younger woman now. Could guilt affect you physically? Could it slow your body as well as your spirit? If so, Erin was proof that the opposite was true as well. Forgiveness spoke to both the earthly body and the eternal spirit.

“Jacob. We thought you were in the barn with Samuel.”

“
Ya
, I was for a moment, but then I went back to the bishop's.”

“Well, come in. There's no need for you to use the front door, you know.”

Jacob stepped into the room. Anna's pulse had quickened at the sound of his voice. When she looked up and saw his clean clothes and still wet hair, her heart plunged. He had gone home to wash up, and
now he'd come to them with news. She knew it by the set of his mouth and the look in his eyes.

Was he going home? Returning finally to New York?

Had he found other work on another farm or in a different district? Her
onkel
paid him as best he could, but Jacob was a good worker. There was little doubt he could do better elsewhere.

They hadn't spoken of that morning on the lane when they had both confessed their love. They hadn't mentioned it even once in the days since.