The Bishop's Daughter (30 page)

Jimmy started after her, but Lydia reached out a hand to stop him. “I think it’s best to let her go. She needs time to be alone and think things through.”

“I can’t believe she would blame Jacob for this. Doesn’t she realize it wasn’t his fault that the animals ran into the road?”

Lydia shrugged as a swirl of emotions spun around in her head. “Leona’s been moody and depressed ever since her boyfriend died, and then, after Jacob’s accident—well, I think she blames God for allowing it all to happen. I’m afraid if her daed’s memory never returns, she might spend the rest of her life angry at God and leery of establishing any close relationships for fear of losing the one she loves.”

Jimmy slowly shook his head, and Lydia wondered what he might be thinking, but before she could ask, the sound of heavy footsteps clomping outside the kitchen turned her attention to the door leading to the hallway. A few seconds later, Jacob entered the room with his arms stretched above his head. When he spotted Jimmy, he rushed over to the table and pulled out a chair. “I didn’t know you was comin’ here today. Did ya want to go fishin’? I’ll bet Mama would fix us a picnic supper to take along.”

“I can’t go fishing this evening, Jacob,” Jimmy said. “I came by to look at the kitchen.”

“Mama’s got a good kitchen. She makes wunderbaar peanut butter cookies in this kitchen.” Jacob tapped Jimmy on the arm. “You hungry? I sure am.” He looked over at Lydia and smiled. “Can me and Jimmy
have some cookies and milk?”

She nodded and headed over to the ceramic cookie jar sitting on the cupboard.
If only Jacob would remember that I’m his wife and not his mother. I can understand why Leona gets so upset with him. Some days it’s all I can do to keep a smile on my face
. She piled several peanut butter cookies onto a plate.
For Jacob’s sake, I’ll keep trying to have a positive attitude, and I can’t give up hope that he will recover someday
.

“I’ve already eaten my share,” Jimmy said when Lydia placed the cookies in front of him. “I need to see if the cupboards in here need to be painted as well as the ceiling and walls. Then I’ll be on my way.”

“You can’t go now,” Jacob mumbled, grabbing a cookie and popping the whole thing into his mouth. “I ain’t seen ya yet today.”

“As you probably know, my husband enjoys your company,” Lydia said to Jimmy. “So if you have a few more minutes, maybe you could sit and visit awhile.” She glanced toward the back door and frowned. “I think my daughter’s had enough time alone, so I’m going to check on her now.”

“I’ll have a couple more cookies; then Jacob can help me look the kitchen over, and we’ll see what all needs to be done,” Jimmy said.

In Jacob’s present condition, Lydia didn’t see how he could be any help in deciding what part of the kitchen needed painting, but if it gave him something to do, then she had no problem with it. “There’s a jug of milk in the refrigerator,” she called on her way out the door.

“I think Mama’s mad at me,” Jacob said, leaning his elbows on the table. “She don’t like my pet goat. I saw her kick at him once when she was hangin’ clothes on the line and he kept trying to steal ’em from the basket.”

“Maybe it would be best if you kept the goat locked in the pen with the other goats.”

Jacob frowned. “That’s what Ona says all the time.”

Jimmy was pleased that Jacob had referred to Leona as Ona and not Mary. He’d either begun to remember that she was his daughter, or he’d simply come to accept the idea because his family had told him it was so. He’d obviously not figured out that Lydia was his wife, though, and that had to be hard on the poor woman.

Jacob scooted his chair back and ambled over to the refrigerator. He removed a gallon of milk and placed it on the table. Then he marched across the room and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “You want some milk, Jimmy? It’s plenty cold.”

“No thanks.” Jimmy pointed to his empty glass. “Leona and I had some iced tea awhile ago.”

“Ona’s gonna be real upset ’cause her dog is dead. Got hit by a car, she did.”

“Yes, I heard about it from Lydia.”

Jacob’s face sobered. “Bad things happen to people, too. Mama keeps tellin’ me that I fell and hit my head, but I don’t remember fallin’.” He gave his beard a couple of pulls. “Last thing I remember is walkin’ home from school with my bruder, Dan. We stopped and picked some cherries that were growin’ in the field along the way.” He wrinkled his nose. “Guess they wasn’t ripe yet ’cause they sure was sour. Dan took one bite and spit it right out. You never seen a person make such an ugly face.”

Jimmy thought back to the time when his mother had made a cherry pie and hadn’t put enough sugar in. She had cried when she realized that she’d ruined the pie.

Thinking about Mom made Jimmy feel sad, and he stared across the room at nothing in particular, fighting a wave of despair that gripped him as suddenly as a summer storm. Not only had the only mother he’d ever known been taken from him, but he’d also never had the opportunity to know his real mother or any of his Amish family. Life could be unfair, and it was hard to understand why God allowed so many tragedies. Then he glanced up at Jacob and reminded himself that the man who sat across from him couldn’t remember anything past the first grade. It made his problems seem small by comparison.

Jacob tapped Jimmy on the arm. “How come you’re lookin’ so down-in-the-mouth? Are you sad about Ona’s dog dyin’, or is there somethin’ funny up?”

Something funny up?
Jimmy smiled.
That must be Jacob’s way of asking if there’s something amiss
. “I do feel bad about Leona’s dog dying,” he said with a nod, “but I was thinking about other things that make me feel sad.”

Jacob leaned closer. “What makes ya sad? Did your dog die, too?”

“No. I never had a dog when I was growing up.”

“How about a cat? Ever have one of them?”

Jimmy shook his head.

“Then why are ya sad?”

“You really want to know?”

“Jah.”

“Well, for one thing, I recently learned that I was stolen when I was a baby.”

“Really?”

Jimmy didn’t know what had made him blurt that out, but now that he had, he felt like sharing more. He was sure the bishop wouldn’t think he was making up the story or question his motives, and it might feel good to finally tell someone the reason he’d come to Pennsylvania.

“My real family is Amish,” Jimmy said. “And I believe they live somewhere in Lancaster County.”

Jacob’s bushy eyebrows drew together, and he stared at Jimmy. “Ya don’t look Amish to me. Your hair’s not cut right, and ya ain’t wearin’ no suspenders.”

“I’m not Amish now. The man who kidnapped me is English.” Jimmy picked up his glass and rolled the remaining chunks of ice around, letting them
clink
against each other. “Until recently, I didn’t know I’d been born Amish. That’s why I’m here in Pennsylvania—to look for the family I lost.”

Jacob brushed some cookie crumbs off the table. “I lost a kitten once. Somebody must have stole it ’cause it never came back.”

Jimmy inwardly groaned.
I shouldn’t have expected him to show much interest in my story
.

“You gonna look for your mamm and daed?” Jacob asked, taking another gulp of milk.

“I think my real mother is dead. At least that’s what my dad—I mean, the man who took me—said.”

“Dead, like Ona’s dog?”

Jimmy nodded and drank the liquid from the melted ice in his glass. “I don’t suppose you might know of anyone in these parts who sells homemade root beer or had a child taken from their yard?”

“Don’t know nothin’ about no baby bein’ snatched away, but Mama bought me a bottle of root beer the other day. It came out of a machine in front of a store in town.”

Jimmy blew out his breath and stood. This conversation was going nowhere, and it was time to do what he’d come here for. “Say, Jacob, how would you like to help me paint this kitchen next week?”

The bishop blinked a couple of times, clapped his hands together, and his deep laughter bounced off the kitchen walls. “I’d like that. Jah, I’d like that a lot!”

T
he next few weeks were difficult as Leona mourned the loss of her dog and tried to stay away from Papa as much as possible. She still blamed him for Cinnamon’s death, and rather than saying things she would regret later on, she’d decided it was best to keep some distance between them. She knew it wasn’t right to hold a grudge, but her daed still did things to embarrass her, which only fueled her frustration.

During the last preaching service, Papa had stood up in the middle of one of the minister’s sermons and quoted a Bible verse. Some said it was a sign that he was improving, but Leona thought it had been a childish thing to do, even if Papa had cited Luke 18:16 by memory. “But Jesus called them unto him, and said, ‘Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.’ ”

Shrugging her thoughts aside, Leona moved to the window so she could watch her pupils playing in the school yard during recess. She’d sent her helper, Betty Zook, to oversee things while she looked over the afternoon reading assignment.
Maybe I should be the one outside with my students. Being in the fresh air and joining the kinner in a few games might do me some good. It would be better than standing here thinking about how mixed up my life has become
. She sighed.
If things could only be the same as they were when I was a girl. Papa and I aren’t close like we once were, and things between Mom and me feel more strained than ever
.

“Papa is some better, though,” she murmured, turning away from the window. Last Saturday, her daed had helped Jimmy work in their kitchen. Of course, Papa had only done some of the easier things like covering the floor with a drop cloth, stirring the can of paint, and sanding some of the cupboards before Jimmy painted them. At least it had kept him occupied, which had given Leona and her mother a chance to get something done without having to check up on him.

When the kitchen was finished, Jimmy had told Leona that he wanted to give her daed the chance to do more meaningful things, and he’d said he was planning to ask Arthur if they could find some chores for Papa to do on some of their paint jobs.

Leona appreciated the time Jimmy spent with her daed, but having the Englisher around so much made her feel rather unsettled. She’d been fighting a growing attraction to Jimmy, and that upset her almost as much as dealing with Papa’s memory loss. It wasn’t right that she should feel drawn to someone outside of her faith. It wasn’t good for her to think so much about the Englisher, even daydreaming about what it would be like if they were married. Was this weakness in her spirit a product of her declining faith?
Maybe I’d better speak with someone about it. Maybe. .
.

A shrill scream halted Leona’s thoughts, and she drew her attention back to the school yard. She noticed a group of children gathered in a circle, and thinking one of them might have been injured, she dashed out the front door.

“What happened?” she asked Emanuel Lapp, who came bounding up the steps as she was descending them.

“Some of the younger ones were playin’, and Millie Hoffmeir fell,” he said breathlessly. “Betty sent me to get you.”

Leona rushed across the school yard and over to the group of children. Millie lay on the ground in the middle of the circle whimpering and holding her right arm. “What happened, Millie?”

The child looked up at Leona with tears in her eyes. “I—I fell off the teeter-totter. My arm hurts, Teacher.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers?”

Millie nodded as she opened and closed them a few times.

“Are you able to move your arm?”

The child winced as she tried to lift her arm. It might only be a bad sprain, but Leona knew X-rays were needed to determine if it was broken. She decided to take the girl to the Hoffmeirs’ store so her folks could get her to the doctor. She put a makeshift sling around the child’s arm. Then, after instructing her helper to take charge of the class, she led Millie over to the buggy and carefully helped her climb in. As soon as Millie’s older brother had the horse hitched up, Leona situated herself in the driver’s seat, gathered up the reins, and headed out of the school yard.