The Bishop's Daughter (42 page)

A
s Jim stepped onto the front porch of Holly’s small, brick home, his heart began to pound and his hands grew sweaty. Today was Saturday, and she’d taken the day off, leaving her two employees in charge of the health food store. Jim wasn’t working today, either, so he’d made plans for the two of them to tour the Museum of Glass as well as the Historical Museum in Tacoma. Holly had volunteered to fix Jim breakfast before they went, and even though he normally didn’t eat much in the morning, he had accepted her invitation, wanting to have some time alone with her before their date. He’d gotten to know her fairly well during the last few months as they had talked frequently on the phone, attended AA meetings, and had gone on several informal dates. She’d invited him to church a couple of times, but after his continued refusals, she had finally quit asking.

Jim knew that if he was going to move beyond friendship with Holly, he would need to open up and tell her the truth about Jimmy, which was what he planned to do this morning during breakfast. He had already lost two important people in his life, and he hoped his confession wouldn’t end his and Holly’s relationship, because he didn’t think he could endure another loss.

With a trembling hand, Jim drew in a deep breath and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, Holly greeted him with a cheery smile.

“Good morning, Jim. I hope you like blueberry pancakes and sausage links, because that’s what I’ve fixed for breakfast.”

The sight of her standing there in a pair of blue jeans and a pink T-shirt put a lump in his throat. He thought Holly was beautiful, no matter what she wore. Physically, she reminded him of Linda in that she had blond hair and blue eyes, but Holly’s personality was a lot different from that of his late wife’s. Holly was self-assured and outgoing; Linda
had been introverted and afraid of many things. At least she had been in the earlier part of their marriage. After she started hanging around Beth Walters and attending church, she’d changed in many ways, although she’d never become as emotionally secure as Holly seemed to be.

Pulling his thoughts aside, Jim returned Holly’s smile and stepped into the house, hoping she couldn’t tell how nervous he was.

“Come out to the kitchen, and you can keep me company while I put breakfast on the table,” she said, motioning him to follow.

When they entered the cozy room a few minutes later, Jim took a seat at the table, and she poured him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks. My nerves are on edge this morning, and this might help.”

Holly chuckled. “I always thought coffee was supposed to make a person more jittery, not calm you down.”

“Guess you’re right about that.”

Holly brought a platter of sausage over to the table and placed it near Jim. “There’s no reason for you to be nervous. I’m not such a bad cook, and I promise you won’t die from food poisoning.”

“It’s not your cooking that has me worried.” He took a sip of coffee but set the cup down when he realized the drink was too hot.

Holly went back to the stove, and this time she returned with a stack of pancakes. When she set it on the table, she took a seat next to Jim. “Let’s get started eating, and then you can tell me what’s got you worried.”

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled.

“It won’t embarrass you if I offer a prayer of thanks for our food, will it?”

He shook his head. He was used to Jimmy praying at the table, and Linda had done it, too, after she’d gotten religious.

Holly reached for Jim’s hand and bowed her head.

Jim did the same; only he kept his eyes open, staring at the floral design on the plate before him.

“Father in heaven,” Holly prayed, “thank You for this food and bless it to the nourishment of our bodies. Thank You for good friends and good company. Amen.”

When she let go of Jim’s hand, he reached for his coffee cup again, this time blowing on it to make sure it was cool enough to drink. As he lifted it to his lips, his hand began to shake, and some of the coffee
spilled out. He set the cup down quickly and grabbed a napkin.

“Are you okay?” Holly asked with obvious concern. “Did you burn your hand?”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Just spilled some on the tablecloth.”

She leaned closer and took his hand. “You’re shaking, Jim. What’s wrong?”

He squeezed her fingers, hoping the strength he found there would give him the courage to say what was on his mind. “I—I need to tell you something. Something that’s been eating at me for twenty years.”

“What is it, Jim?”

He started by explaining how he and Linda couldn’t have children, and how several attempts to adopt had failed. Then he told her about the excitement they had felt when they’d made contact with a lawyer from Maryland and how they’d gone there to adopt a one-year-old boy.

“But the adoption never happened,” he said, shaking his head. “The birth mother changed her mind, and I left the lawyer’s office that day empty-handed and wondering how I was going to face Linda when I returned to our hotel and told her we had no baby to take home.”

“That must have been awful. How soon afterward did you get Jimmy?” The compassion in Holly’s eyes let Jim know he had her sympathy, and it gave him the courage to go on.

“A few hours,” he replied.

“Huh?” Her eyebrows lifted. “How could your lawyer set up another adoption in such a short time?”

“He didn’t.”

“Then how—”

Jim quickly related the story of how he’d gone to an Amish farm for some root beer and ended up leaving with a child.

Holly’s mouth dropped open. “You—you kidnapped a baby?”

He nodded slowly.

“Does—does Jimmy know about this?”

“Yeah. He found out when he went to Bel Air, Maryland, thinking he could get some information about his birth mother. After talking to the lawyer, it came out that there had been no adoption.” Jim paused and swiped the napkin he’d used for the spilled coffee across his sweaty forehead. “When Jimmy confronted me about the failed adoption, I felt I had no choice but to tell him about the kidnapping.” He groaned. “At
first he didn’t believe me, but he did go to Pennsylvania in search of his real family. Now he’s not speaking to me.”

Holly made no comment, just sat there, staring at her hands now clasped in front of her.

“The last time we talked, he hadn’t gotten any leads, and I’m not much help because I can’t remember where that Amish farm even was.”

Holly lifted her gaze to meet his. “You’re not the man I thought you were, Jim. You’re not to be trusted, and I want you to leave—now.” She pushed her chair back and dashed from the room.

Leona’s hand shook as she sank into the wicker chair on the front porch and read the letter Eli Raber had given her when he’d stopped by the house on his way to town a few minutes ago.

Dear Leona:

After my conversation with Abraham yesterday, I realized that I would be hurting you if I stayed here any longer. And it wouldn’t be right for me to ask you to leave your Amish faith in order for us to be together. So I’ve decided to return to Washington and make peace with my dad and try to sort things out
.

I came to Lancaster County in search of something from my past, but since I didn’t find what I was looking for, I guess the Lord said no to my request. As much as I’ve come to love you, I don’t see any way for us to be together
.

I’m praying that God will heal your hurts and give you the desires of your heart. I’ll never forget you or your family, and I’ll continue to pray that your dad’s memory will return. Even if that never happens, please remember these words from Romans 8:28: “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”

You must learn to forgive and trust God again, Leona. It’s the only way you’ll ever have any real joy or peace
.

Fondly
,
Jimmy

Tears welled in Leona’s eyes and blurred the words on the page. Jimmy was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. He loved her, yet she knew that because he was English and she was Amish they could never have a life together.

Despite the fact that, for so many months, Leona had been afraid to fall in love again, it had happened, anyway. She’d fallen in love with Jimmy, and now he was gone.

She gripped the edge of the chair and squeezed her eyes shut.
There’s something in Lancaster County that is linked to Jimmy’s past, but I have no idea what it is. If Jimmy really loved me, why didn’t he feel free to share it?

Suddenly, a thought popped into Leona’s head, and her eyes opened. “I need to speak with Abraham Fisher. I need to find out exactly what he said to Jimmy that made him decide to leave.”

Abraham was on his way to the barn when he spotted a horse and buggy pulling into the yard. He waited to see who it was, and when the horse stopped in front of the hitching rail, Leona Weaver stepped down from her buggy.

He lifted his hand and waved. “It’s a nice, warm Saturday morning, wouldn’t ya say? A real pleasant change in the weather, which means spring is just over the hill.”

“I need to speak with you,” Leona said, making no reference to his comment about the weather.

Leona’s furrowed brows and puckered lips let Abraham know something was amiss. “What is it? Are you here about your daed? Is Jacob okay?”

“Papa’s the same. I came to speak with you about Jimmy Scott. I’d like to know what you said that made him decide to go back to Washington.”

“He went home, huh?”
Now that’s a relief
.

She nodded.

Abraham kicked a small stone with the toe of his boot. “There ain’t much to say. I told him how things were, and that’s all.”

“What exactly did you say to him?” she persisted.

“Said I’d talked to your mamm and that she was worried you might
do something foolish and get yourself shunned.”

Leona shook her head. “Mom ought to know me better than that.”

“Jah, well, I thought I knew my oldest daughter, too, yet she ran off with Virginia Meyers all those years ago because she couldn’t face what she’d done. That hurt our whole family.”

“I’m sure it did, but Naomi did come back home.”

He gave another stone a swift kick. “I also told that young fellow that I couldn’t stand by and watch my good friend’s daughter throw her life away on some Englisher who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“Jimmy’s a decent man. I was only helping him get a splinter out of his hand, and I—I don’t feel you had the right to chase him off.”

“The Englisher does not belong here, plain and simple.” Abraham headed for the barn, and a sense of irritation welled up in his soul when he realized Leona had followed. He stopped inside the barn door and whirled around. “Your daed’s been my best friend for a good many years, and there’s no way I could watch some fancy, young know-it-all wreck the lives of everyone in your family.”

Leona’s chin trembled as she stared at the ground. “Our lives were wrecked the day Papa fell from that ladder and lost his memory.”

“That’s not true. Jacob’s learned to do many things since his accident. Arthur told me that your daed’s painting skills are almost as good as they were before he fell.”

“Who do you think taught Papa how to paint again?” Leona lifted her gaze, and Abraham saw tears shimmering in her eyes. “It was Jimmy, that’s who.”

He moved toward one of the mules’ stalls, hoping she might take the hint and head for home. He felt sorry she was upset, but he couldn’t deal with that right now.

Once more, she followed him. “I understand your concern for my daed, but Papa needs Jimmy’s help. Can’t you see that?”

“My concern isn’t just for Jacob. I’m worried about you getting hurt or maybe shunned.”

Leona sniffed and blotted the tears that had splattered onto her cheeks. “I would never do anything to bring shame to my family. There’s no reason for you to be worried.”

“Sorry I’m late, Papa,” Jake said as he entered the barn. “I know you wanted to start plowin’ the south field before noon, but Elsie’s got the
morning sickness real bad, and I didn’t want to leave the house ’til her mamm showed up to help with the kinner.”