Love Still Stands (22 page)

Elijah had been one of those boys. His skin tanned, hair bleached from the sun, laughing
as the girls tore past them and ran barefooted on their dirt road, leaving wet tracks
behind them.

The memories made her throat ache and tears well up behind her closed eyelids.
Stay at the creek
. Now the ride wasn’t as pleasant. She gritted her teeth and imagined the wind rustling
the trees. Frogs croaked, sounding like bullhorns. Cicadas chirped.

Music broke the silence. Tinny notes with lots of drums. Reluctantly, Bethel opened
her eyes. She was still in the PT room with its odor of stale sweat and cleanser.
Doctor Karen grabbed her phone from a nearby chair and put it to her ear. Immediately
her expression turned grim. “Just a minute, Mom.” She held her hand over the little
rectangle. “I need to take this call. It’s very important or I wouldn’t. If I step
into the hallway for one minute, will you be all right? I’ll be right there so holler
if you need me.”

Bethel nodded. She could sit and push pedals round and round without supervision.

Her expression a cross between fearful and hopeful, the woman stepped out, already
talking into the miniature phone. Bethel wondered what that must be like. Doctor Karen
not only talked into it all the time, but she typed on it and slid her fingers across
it, staring at it like it was the most interesting, mesmerizing thing she’d ever seen.
How much of the world around her did she miss while she fixed her gaze on that phone?

“Hey, there you are.”

Bethel froze at the sound of the low, sandpaper rough voice. She forgot to push on
the pedals and the bike ground to a halt.

“Don’t stop working out on my account. Dragon lady will get after you.” Shawn rolled
his chair across the floor from the far entrance on the other side of the hand weights.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“You can’t be in here right now.” White heat crackled around Bethel like lightning
rippling across the sky on a July night. She had no towel. Nothing with which to cover
herself in her English clothes. “I have this room to myself until eight o’clock.”

“What’s the matter? Are you afraid of me?” Mock horror drenched the words. He waved
his arm in a flourish that showed off a bulging bicep. He wore a black T-shirt with
the sleeves cut off, gray shorts, and black sneakers shiny in their newness. Never
walked on. Ready to work out. “Seriously? I’m paralyzed from the waist down, darlin’.
I’m no threat.”

“It’s not that. No, of course not.” She stuttered. She wanted to wipe sweat from her
face, but she was afraid to let go of the bike handles. If she fell off the bike in
front of him she’d never forgive herself. He wouldn’t be able to help her up. And
he would feel bad about it. The little she knew of him told her that. Another helper.
“I…it’s just that I’m…it’s these clothes. I don’t want you to see me in these clothes.”

“Well, they ain’t a prom dress, but you don’t look any worse than the next girl in
sweats. Fact is you’re too pretty to look bad in anything.”

Prom dress? “No, no. I don’t want you looking at all.” The more she talked, the worse
it got. She wasn’t trying to get compliments. “I mean, it’s…I come at this time because
we don’t wear these kinds of clothes, and we don’t do things like exercise with men.”

“I noticed the clothes thing. Dress and apron. Must make getting dressed in the morning
easy. You look nice in them.” He backed the chair up a few paces. “I didn’t mean to
embarrass you. I’m just trying to figure out what’s okay and what’s not. I knew you’d
be here, and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“I like you.”

Three simple words. Why did Plain men find them so hard to say to her? Her legs began
to move, her feet pushed the pedals. She was here to get better. Nothing more. “I’m
sorry, but you need to leave.”

“Come on, don’t be that way.”

“I mean it. I asked for this time so I could do this alone.” Luke’s stern face appeared
in her mind’s eye. Elijah’s irritated features followed. Not that Elijah’s opinion
counted. Not at all. “If I don’t do it alone, my family won’t let me come anymore.”

Concern washed over his face. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Then leave. Please.”

His hands went to the wheels and he shoved hard. The chair zoomed toward the door.
He looked like a little boy sent to bed without his supper. Bethel ducked her head.
How could a few words of conversation hurt? She understood him. He understood her.
This was about their shared experiences of not being able to make their legs do what
they needed them to do. Nothing else. It was mean to send him away. She could consider
it an extension of the therapy group. Luke had approved that. They were out in the
open. Doctor Karen was nearby. The workout clothes covered her from her neck to her
toes. What more could he ask?

“Wait.”

His head came up and the chair whirled around and zipped back. “I knew you couldn’t
resist me.” His broad grin made the scars on his cheek crinkle in a mass of angry
red welts. “You like me.”

“If you talk like that you can’t stay.” Better to establish ground rules now. “And
you can’t look at me.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m very serious.”

“Yeah, you are.” He tilted his head and examined her like a doctor examining a patient.
“How about I go over there and straighten up the hand weights? Put them in order by
weight? They’re always getting messed up because people are too lazy to put them back
right.” He pointed—or tried to point—at the other side of the room. His fingers didn’t
cooperate. “We can still talk, but you won’t be uncomfortable. I won’t look at you
and technically, I won’t be working out with you.”

The spirit of the law and the letter of the law. Bishop Kelp had talked about that
more than once. They shouldn’t be tempted to circumvent the Ordnung in little ways
any more than in big ways. What did the Ordnung say about two disabled people giving
each other support? She didn’t know, but she could guess when it came to one of them
being a man—an Englisch man at that. Why was she finding it so hard to do the right
thing?

She stared at his face with its light dusting of little boy freckles that contradicted
the angry scars. It wasn’t his looks or the fact that he was a man. She saw herself
in his face. His held the same wistfulness she saw in the mirror. The same longing.
Shawn didn’t want to be alone anymore. Neither did she. He didn’t want to be different.
Neither did she. He wanted to run. So did she. She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

She nodded, still pedaling, and waited until he positioned himself with his back to
her before she spoke again. “Why are you trying to figure out what’s okay and what’s
not?”

With a grunt, he picked up a huge weight that probably weighed as much as the twins
combined. “I told you that first day. Love at first sight.”

“Don’t. I’m being serious. If you can’t be serious, we can’t talk.”

“You never kid around?”

“You mean like tease?”

“Yeah, tease.”

She thought of Elijah and his assertion that she talked to herself and had imaginary
friends. “Yes, we tease.” She hid the memory under a pile of bittersweet memories
of conversations and singings and buggy rides that had led to nothing but the realization
that she might never marry. Back in the days when she’d been happy for the opportunity
to teach. She pumped harder. Now she didn’t have that either.

“Why do you look so sad, darlin’?”

She looked up to see that he had swiveled in his chair, the weight still lifted chest
high.

“You’re cheating.”

“Sorry.” He settled into the chair, his back to her. “Doesn’t mean you can’t answer
the question.”

“You didn’t answer mine. Not seriously.”

“You’re different from any woman I’ve ever known. You don’t try to get the attention
of men. You don’t wear makeup or jewelry or clothes that show off your figure. You
don’t care what people think of you.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but she knew what Shawn meant. “We don’t draw attention
to ourselves. Men or women.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s vanity. We want to remain humble, without pride. We can’t take credit
for anything we have or do. It’s all because of God.”

“I get that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I try to remember when I’m feeling sorry for myself that God got me home from
that war. A lot of guys didn’t come home. I should be thankful.”

“But you’re not.”

“Some days.”

“And other days?”

“I wish I were dead. I wish I died over there in battle with my buddies. It would
be better than sitting in this chair for the rest of my life.”

His matter-of-fact tone chilled her despite the sweaty heat of her exertion on the
bike.

“Don’t worry.”

She looked up to see him swiveled in the chair again. “Don’t look at me, Shawn.”

“I can’t help it. You’re so pretty, especially with your cheeks all red like that.”

“Stop.”

“I just meant to say don’t worry—I won’t kill myself. I would never do that to my
mother. She’s been through enough.”

“What about your father?” She contemplated the back of his head. “I met him—twice.”

“Lucky you.”

“That’s disrespectful.”

He dumped the weight back on the rack and selected the next larger sizer. “He doesn’t
respect me.”

“He asked me how you were doing.” She pictured the sheriff’s face. She did see some
of Shawn there, the part trying to find his way through the pain. “He seemed sad.”

“He’s pathetic. He knows where I live. He doesn’t want to run into Mom.” Shawn shoved
the weights over his head and then out, up and out, repeat. He wasn’t even breathing
hard. “He could call me. Did he lose my number or something?”

“No. No. I don’t know. But he seemed very sad.”

“He’s a pathetic, sad excuse for a dad.”

“Shawn!”

“Tell me about what it’s like to be Amish. Plain you call it, right?”

So he wanted to change the subject. She understood that. She didn’t want to talk about
living with her sister and brother-in-law when she should be married and taking care
of her own children. “We believe we have to keep ourselves apart from the world so
we don’t end up worldly. We believe in putting Jesus first, others second, and ourselves
last. We believe God has a plan for us.”

“So no cars, no electricity, no telephones, no computers, no TVs, no movies.”

“No.”

“How’s it working out for you?”

She tested the words, trying to decide if he were making fun of her. She heard only
a sincere desire to know. “If I could learn to walk again, it would work out fine.”

“Why aren’t you married then?”

“I don’t know. Why aren’t you married?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked that question.
It must be the sweatpants. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that.”

“I don’t know either.” His smirk didn’t cover the sadness than ran through his tone.
“Couldn’t be the chair, could it?”

“The chair? The chair is nothing. It doesn’t change who you are.”

“Any more than your crutches do, right?”

“Jah, I mean right.”

“Which is why you’re in here, busting your behind to fix your legs so you can throw
away the crutches.”

“You don’t understand. In our community, women, like men, work hard. There’s laundry
and canning and cooking and growing gardens and mowing the yard. It’s hard physical
labor because—”

“Because you don’t believe in making it any easier on yourselves with electricity
and rubber tires. I got all that when I searched you online.”

“Searched me? Online?”

“Not you. Amish folks.” His voice held a note of laughter. “Online. You know, Google
search.”

“No. I don’t know.”

“So you think Englisch folks don’t work hard just because they have electricity and
microwaves and tractors and cars and such?”

“I’m sure they—you—work very had.”

“Well, I don’t. I sit around on my kiester playing video games and watching soap operas
with my mom.”

“Get a job.”

“Doing what?”

“What did you want to do before you went…over there?”

“I was gonna be a cop like my pop.”

The sheer desolation in his voice combined with the great effort he made in order
to hide it broke Bethel’s heart. She gritted her teeth, knowing no man wanted a woman
to cry for him. “What was second on the list?”

“Huh?”

“Aren’t there other things you like to do?”

He wheeled his chair around. “I like talking to you.”

Bethel ducked his gaze. “You’re not supposed to look at me. That was the rule.”

“Get a pop with me after the group session. There’s a coffee shop next to the clinic.
It’s close enough for you to walk.”