The Bishop's Daughter (34 page)

“I appreciate the care with which you’re driving. It makes me nervous to travel too fast, whether it be in a car or a horse-pulled carriage.”

Jimmy nodded. “You wouldn’t care for my dad’s driving then. He’s one of those ‘I don’t want anyone ahead of me’ kind of drivers.”

Leona smiled and relaxed against the seat. “I haven’t said much about the time you’ve spent helping my daed relearn to paint, but I want you to know that both Mom and I appreciate it.”

“I’m hoping if Jacob works around the other painters awhile that it might spark some memories for him.”

“That would be nice, but I’m not holding my breath.”

“I’m sure the Lord has a plan for your daed’s life, whether his memory returns or not.”

“I wish I had your faith—Papa’s, too, for that matter. He’s got all kinds of faith in his ability to paint these days.”

“Maybe that’s because he thinks like a child. It’s much easier for children to have faith than it is for adults, especially when things aren’t going so well.”

Leona made no comment, just stared out the window. The barren trees hanging over part of the road looked like bony fingers waiting to snatch away anyone’s joy if they walked underneath. The truth was, it was easier to have faith and believe in miracles when you weren’t the one going through the problem. Jimmy didn’t understand everything she was going through right now. It was bad enough that she’d been trying to come to grips with Ezra’s death, Papa’s childish antics, and her failure as a teacher. Now she had to deal with the swirl of emotions that swept over her whenever she was near Jimmy. Until she’d met him, she’d convinced herself that she would never fall in love again. Now she was afraid she might be falling for the wrong man—an Englisher, no less.

“So, what are you going to name that new pup?” Jimmy asked, breaking into her disconcerting thoughts.

She puckered her lips. “Let’s see. . . The puppy’s real soft and fluffy, so I could name her Fluffy.”

Jimmy wrinkled his nose. “Not masculine enough.”

“It’s a girl pup,” Leona said with a snicker.

“Oh yeah, that’s right.”

“She’s also quite lively and determined.”

“I’ll say. I couldn’t believe how the little stinker climbed out of that box when we put her in the barn. It was twice as tall as the one I brought her in, but it took a box three times as tall to keep her inside.”

“That’s how Cinnamon was, too. Always determined to get her own way.”

Jimmy smacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “Hey, since your last dog was named after a spice, why not call the pup Ginger or Nutmeg?”

Leona tipped her head as she contemplated his idea. “Ginger. . . I like that. Jah, I’ll call her Ginger.”

They drove in silence for the next few miles, but as they entered the town of Paradise, Jimmy spoke again. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve been wondering if you think you could be happy if you weren’t Amish?”

Leona didn’t know what had prompted such a question, but she responded honestly. “I–I’m not sure. I’ve wondered sometimes what
it would be like if I were English and could get more education, but it would be hard to leave my folks—especially now, with Papa’s condition to consider. It wouldn’t be right to leave Mom alone to deal with him, either. Besides, if I were to leave, I would be shunned because I’ve already been baptized and joined the church.”

“I see.”

She glanced over at him. “What about you? Could you be happy if you weren’t English?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, but it would take some getting used to.”

They were nearing the Hoffmeirs’ store now, and Jimmy turned his pickup into the parking lot. “What time would you like me to come back for you?” he asked.

“I should be done in half an hour or so.”

“I’ll run a few errands of my own and try to be here by noon. Maybe we can stop somewhere for lunch before we head back to your place.”

“That’d be nice.” Leona climbed out of the truck, wondering if Jimmy enjoyed being with her as much as she enjoyed being with him. Despite her resolve not to become romantically involved with anyone, she had strong feelings for Jimmy.
Is it wrong to have lunch with him? Maybe not
. She’d seen many English drivers having lunch with the Amish people they taxied around.

“You girls can put those books we got in this morning on that empty lower shelf,” Naomi instructed her teenage daughters.

Sarah reached into the cardboard box to grab a couple of books. “Okay, Mom. We’ll see that it gets done.”

“What if there isn’t room for all of ’em?” Susan questioned.

“Then we’ll find space on some other shelf.” Naomi returned to the front counter where a letter she’d received this morning waited to be read. It was from Ginny Nelson, the English friend she’d run away with so many years ago. She hadn’t heard from Ginny in over a year. Tearing the envelope open, Naomi silently read the short note.

Dear Naomi
,

Sorry for not writing in such a long time, but Chad and I have
been busy trying to remodel the fitness center he bought a few years ago—after we moved from Puyallup to Bellevue
.

How are things with you? I don’t suppose you’ve had any word on Zach, or you probably would have written and said so. I still think of your little brother whenever I see a boy with wavy brown hair and eyes the color of dark chocolate. Of course, Zach wouldn’t be a kid anymore, would he? I guess he’d be about twenty-one years old now
.

Naomi set the letter aside and drew in a cleansing breath. Even now, after all these years, the mention of Zach’s name reopened old wounds, making her feel guilty for leaving him on the picnic table.
If only we knew where he was. If we just had some assurance that he was alive and doing okay
.

The bell above the front door jingled to announce the arrival of a customer. Leona Weaver entered the store, and Naomi’s husband, Caleb, walked in behind her. Apparently, he’d finished with the errand he had gone out to run awhile ago.

“Thanks for telling me about this, Leona,” Caleb said. “It’s important that we keep up on how our kinner are doing in school. If we can do anything to help, please let us know.”

Naomi was about to ask what Caleb was talking about when Leona turned to her and said, “I came by to speak with you about Millie.”

Naomi leaned forward, her elbows on the counter. “What about her?”

“She’s still having trouble in school, and I’ve tried everything I can think of to teach her to read and write, but she doesn’t seem to be getting it.”

“Maybe we need to work with her more at home,” Caleb suggested.

Naomi nodded. She’d planned to do that soon after Leona mentioned Millie was having a hard time, but things had been hectic at the store. Since fall had crept in, nearly everyone in her family had taken turns with the flu, which had kept her busier than ever. Then Millie had broken her arm, and Naomi had allowed her to slack off on everything, including homework. “I’ll start reading to her tonight,” she promised.

Leona shook her head. “Millie doesn’t need to be read to. She needs to learn how to read.”

Naomi’s defenses rose. She didn’t know why she felt so frustrated whenever Leona mentioned the difficulty Millie was having, but talking about it made her feel as if she had failed her daughter. “I’ll work with her every night until she knows how to read.”

“I was looking through a magazine while I waited in the dentist’s office the other day, and I came across an article on learning disabilities.” Leona paused and flicked her tongue across her bottom lip. “I think Millie may have dyslexia.”

Caleb’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s that?”

“It involves not being able to read or write correctly,” Leona explained. “For some people, the words seem to shake or move. The article said some might even see letters in reverse.”

“So what can we do about this problem?” he questioned.

“I’m not sure yet. The article didn’t give much information. I’m planning to discuss the problem at our next teachers’ meeting and see if anyone has had experience in dealing with dyslexia or knows of anything I might try.”

“Let us know what you find out. We’ll do everything we can to help.” Caleb looked over at Naomi and smiled. “Isn’t that right?”

“Uh—of course. Danki for coming by, Leona.” Naomi turned away. “I guess I’ll check on the girls.” As much as Naomi wanted Millie to do well in school, she couldn’t accept the fact that the child might have a serious problem. And she couldn’t help but wonder if she might have caused the problem by not giving Millie enough attention.

Since Leona had finished her business with the Hoffmeirs and knew she had a few minutes before Jimmy would be back, she decided to step into the quilt shop to say hello to Mary Ann. She found her and Abby sitting at the quilting table.

“How’s business?” Leona asked, stepping between the two women.

“We’re very busy, even with the cooler weather and not so many tourists as we had this summer.” Abby smiled, then excused herself to wait on a customer who’d entered the store.

Leona glanced at Mary Ann, noticing how her fingers flew in and out of the quilting material like there was no tomorrow. “Sure wish I could sew like that,” she said. “Even though Mom taught me all the basic skills when I was a girl, I’ve never been able to sew as well as some women my age.”

“I’m not really an expert at sewing, but I do enjoy making quilts. And I think the more I make, the better I get.” Mary Ann grinned up at her. “How are things with you?”

“Not so good.” Leona glanced over her shoulder at the door to the adjoining store. “Millie’s still having a hard time in school, and when I tried to talk to her mamm about it, she seemed kind of defensive.”

“My big sister always has been sensitive about things. When it comes to one of her kinner not doing well in school, I’m guessing she feels as if she’s failed as a mudder somehow.”

Leona shook her head. “If anyone’s failed Millie, it’s me.”

Mary Ann touched Leona’s arm. “How can you say that? You’re a good teacher, and from what I hear, all your scholars think you’re the
bescht
.”

“I don’t feel as if I’m the best of anything these days.”

“Of course you are. You’ll figure out some way to deal with Millie’s problem.”

Leona was about to comment when Jimmy poked his head into the quilt shop and waved. “Oh, my ride’s here, so I guess I’d better go.”

Mary Ann nodded. “I’ll be praying that God gives you the wisdom you need to help Millie.”

“Danki,” Leona said and then hurried from the room.

As Leona took a seat across from Jimmy in a booth at the Bird-in-Hand Family Restaurant, her muscles felt so tight she thought her bones might snap. She kept thinking about the response she’d gotten from Millie’s parents concerning Millie having dyslexia, and she wondered why Naomi had seemed so defensive.

She scrunched her napkin into a tight little ball.
If I just had more knowledge about things like this, it might not be such a problem
.

“Would you like to choose something from the menu, or would you rather have the lunch buffet?” Jimmy asked.

“Uh—it doesn’t really matter. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”