A Simple Hope: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (5 page)

“That’s different. Englishers can enjoy Gott’s bounty as well as
Plain folk. But here’s the difference: Selling fruit doesn’t bring the outsiders into our homes. Into our lives.” Jimmy’s brow was stern as he rose and moved toward the door. “Samuel’s here.”

Stewing in misery, James watched his father greet the head of their congregation and make small talk about the weather. James didn’t know what his dat had told the bishop, but he sensed that they were coming at him with a shared purpose. This was not going to be a good talk.

Magnified by his glasses, Samuel’s eyes were round as an owl’s. He listened as James answered his questions about the orchard, telling about the spraying and fertilizing that had to be done in April.

When the bishop got down to business, it soon became clear that he was here to convince James to give up all hope.

“It’s been a few months since the accident, and from what Jimmy tells me, you seem to be in a rut.” Samuel’s tone was gentle, but his words cut like a hunting knife. “It’s time to accept the truth. You will probably not walk again.”

James felt his nostrils flare in defiance, but he held his tongue. No one argued with the bishop, and a young baptized member like himself did not dare say that their community leader was wrong … that Englishers had predicted otherwise.

“It’s a tough thing to say.” Dat frowned. “But Gott tells us how it’s going to be, and we must accept His ways. Contentment is not getting what we want, but being satisfied with what we have.”

“Gott’s will is hard to understand and accept, but we must. ‘Thy will be done.’ That’s the Lord’s Prayer, ya?”

James felt his heart harden as the bishop’s words crackled in the room.

“Now, how does that apply to you?” Samuel went on. “For whatever reason—we can never understand why—Gott’s plan for you has put you in that wheelchair. It’s time to stop mooning over what used to be and accept what is. It’s not the end of the world to
be in a wheelchair. Many of Gott’s blessings can still be enjoyed. A sunny spring day. A funny joke. A good meal.”

Dat sat there beside the bishop, nodding in agreement. “And there’s another blessing to be thankful for. The doctors keep saying James is lucky to be alive,” Jimmy added.

Alive, but trapped in a chair
. But James could not give voice to his feelings; he had to remain respectful. The bishop had the final word on all things in their community.

“ ‘Thy will be done,’ ” Samuel repeated, his gray eyes magnified by the lenses of this glasses as he studied James. “This part of the Lord’s Prayer,
this
must have a new meaning for you. You must take it to heart.”

“If I knew that it was Gott’s will for me to be paralyzed, I would accept it,” James said, struggling to keep his voice even. He patted his thighs. “But Gott left me some feeling in these legs, and I’m going to do my best to see if I can make them work again.”

Samuel’s eyes were steely as he stroked his graying beard. “Determination can be a very good thing, but sometimes Gott puts us on a bumpy road to shake our hand loose.”

For a brief moment, James could appreciate what the bishop was saying. He was trying to save James the grief of disappointment. He was trying to help James settle in and accept that his was a lifetime injury.

But James would not, could not settle for that.

“James is determined, all right,” Dat said. “And a hard worker, too. I told him he wasn’t needed in the orchards, but he wouldn’t sit back. He won’t linger in the house when there’s work to be done outside.”

“Maybe some wouldn’t mind the rest, but I’m itching to get back to work, back to climbing trees.” James forced a smile, trying to lighten up the conversation. He didn’t want to be handed any orders from his father or the bishop today. He didn’t want to be
bound by their decisions. “And Doc Trueherz thinks it’s possible—that I might walk again—because I didn’t lose the feeling in my legs. There’s a new therapy. Something that wakes up the spinal cord. I’m supposed to meet with a man named Dr. Finley.”

“And how much will that cost?” Dat asked.

“If I get into the study, I won’t have to pay anything. I just need to get to the clinic in Paradise.”

Jimmy folded his arms across his chest, a gesture that told James he was closing his mind. “And if it’s not free, I reckon there will be more bills.”

Crinkly lines grew deep around the edge of Samuel’s eyes. “Ach! Medical bills can be sky-high.”

“They tell me that Dr. Finley’s program has no charge.” James did not expect his father to bring up the money issue in front of the bishop. “But even if it costs money, I want to do the treatment. You just said that we’re caught up on the hospital bills.”

“We’ve paid for a lot more than the hospital and doctors,” Dat went on. “Don’t forget the money for the two wheelchairs. The one with the fat wheels cost nearly a thousand dollars. And the ramp we built for you. And so many car rides to the hospital and rehab center. Even if this Doc Finley is free, there’s the matter of getting there. It’s a busy time in the orchard and no one can be spared to drive you.”

“Gott has given you a heavy burden. Sometimes, all we can do is accept the load, and accept the familiar road.” The bishop faced James. “Listen to your father. He is wise when it comes to falling in with the Englishers. And you know your parents can’t keep pouring out money. Who could? And the Englishers, I’ve seen them advise medical tests and exams that amount to nothing but a lot of debt.”

“But they have therapies that can help me walk again,” James
said, keeping his voice respectful. “By the grace of Gott, they might have a cure for me.”

Disappointment burned in Bishop Samuel’s eyes. “Did you not hear anything we’ve said? Doctors might help, but it’s Gott who heals. It’s time to accept His will.”

“But there’s still hope …” James insisted.

“Hope is a good thing, ya?” Samuel said coolly. “The Bible says ‘Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is.’ But the main thing is to trust in the Lord. You do that, and the other things will fall into place. For now, you’d best listen to your dat. Find ways to pitch in with other things while your brothers work the orchard.”

“There’s a lot for you to learn in the office,” Dat said. “Get to know the business end of the orchard. I’ll be happy to have you working side by side with me.”

And I’ll shrivel up and rot, like a fire-blighted apple
.

As the bishop put on his hat and headed out to his buggy, James felt sick inside. He reminded himself to stay strong, keep pushing himself toward recovery, but when the bishop’s words replayed in his mind, he felt frozen in place.

Dat and Samuel wanted him to give up, and they wouldn’t be satisfied until the last flame of hope inside him was snuffed out to a charred, sizzling wick.

“
I
sn’t today Friday?” Shandell Darby asked as the car whipped past green fields of corn.

“I guess. Where’d I put my sunglasses?” Gary pulled the visor down against the sun as he steered with one hand. There was a harsh quality in his normally handsome face when he squinted that way. “What’s it matter? When you’re on a road trip, you don’t have to worry about what day it is. We got the wind in our hair and the open road in front of us.”

“Yeah, but I thought you said we’d be home by the weekend.”

“What’s your rush?” Agitation prickled in his voice.

Shandell squirmed in the passenger seat, not sure how to answer. It seemed the more she pushed Gary toward going back to Baltimore, the more obstinate he became. It was a side of him she’d never seen back home, but when their road trip had begun to unravel, so had their friendship. She opened the console, fished out his sunglasses, and handed them over.

He took them without a thank-you. “I wish you could talk about something besides going home,” he said as the car swung on a curve. She wished he didn’t drive so fast. “It’s getting a little played out.”

“But you’re the one who said—”

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to find when you get back to Baltimore,” he said pointedly. “It’s not like a fairy’s going to wave a magic wand and get old Phil off the couch.”

That hurt, maybe because she knew it was true. Since her stepfather had lost his job as a plumber, he seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into the couch, a can or two of beer always on the end table beside him.

She scraped back her blue-tinted black hair as she stared out the window at her own reflection in the side mirror. The round-eyed, button-nosed face in the reflection was pathetically childish for an eighteen-year-old. It didn’t help that she was petite, with the small body of a pixie. When would she begin to look her age?

When will you begin to act your age?

Maybe that was a better question. She had made a lot of mistakes in the past few days, and now she was beginning to see the consequences.

Shandell stared at the cornfield beyond the window. She had never seen corn so young—short green stalks reaching up to the sun. So hopeful. Shandell wished she had that kind of hope in her heart. She wished someone would hire her stepfather and give him a reason to stop drinking. She wished that she was anywhere else but driving in Gary’s big boat of a car.

Three days ago, when her mother had freaked out over a notice from the school that Shandell was failing math, Shandell had taken Gary up on his offer of a road trip. Maybe it wasn’t the best decision Shandell had ever made, but the prospect of escaping her sorry life for a visit to Gary’s sister had seemed like a great idea at the time.

“Road trip!” Gary had shouted, pumping a fist in the air. In need of relief, Shandell had found his enthusiasm contagious.

In the past six months, life at the Darby house had become unbearable for Shandell, who was expected to keep house and cook for Phil while Mom worked two jobs to make enough to keep up with the rent.

Chelsea Darby’s plan for a stable, happy life had not worked out the way anyone had envisioned it. No one had anticipated that Phil would lose his job, and as if the loss of income weren’t enough, Phil had dwindled into a bitter, critical man when he turned to drinking to ease the pain. The shriveled core of a person who now sat on the couch in their living room barely resembled the kind, athletic man who had once told Shandell that he considered it an honor and a privilege to be her stepfather. Lately, Shandell had focused most of her energy on coming up with ways to stay away from home. That had led her to hang out in Ryan’s garage with her more low-key friends, like Lucia, Kylie, Ryan, and Gary. She’d passed many a lazy hour there talking and listening to music. “It’s your therapy,” her friends always told her when she felt nips of guilt over missing school to hang out. Ryan had some great music on his iPod, and his mother understood that the teens had nowhere else to go. With music and a Ping-Pong table, a deck of cards, and snacks that everyone picked up from the convenience store on the corner, hours passed easily in Ryan’s garage.

School … that was another sore spot she didn’t want to think about. She was supposed to be graduating in June, but now there was probably no chance of that.
And it’s not my fault
, Shandell thought, frowning. Although Shandell loved history and writing, she was terrible at math and science, and with Mom working the evening shift at the hospital laundry, Shandell lost her tutor. From the first day that she failed a quiz in Algebra 2, Shandell felt herself sinking fast without Mom to teach her the lessons. By the time
midterm grades came out, she was drowning with no lifeboat in sight. They couldn’t afford a tutor, and her teacher could not spare the time to work with individual students. At this point, her high school diploma was in jeopardy.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, there was her stepdad. She raked her silky black hair away from her forehead and tried to let the neat rows of corn beyond the window chase the dark thoughts of her stepfather from her mind. Thinking about Phil made her want to cry, despite the Amish farmland, bursting with the colors of springtime. She had enjoyed her time out in the bright countryside, a nice break from the shadowed living room where Phil carped at her from the blue light of the television screen.

What’s wrong with you? You can’t even pass dummy math
.

With grades like that, you’ll never amount to anything
.

“Aw, come on.” Gary slung his arm around her in a conciliatory gesture. “Don’t forget why you wanted to leave home in the first place.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” The images of her stepfather passed out on the couch and her mother raging through tears were branded in her memory. After the terrible fight with Mom, she’d wanted nothing more than to be far away from home. But now they were out of money and running out of gas. Twice she had washed her hair in public restroom sinks, and sponge baths left her feeling grungy. She just wanted to go home. “It was fun in the beginning, Gar, but you said it yourself. Our plan didn’t work out. Your sister couldn’t put us up, and you can’t really live in a car. We need to go home.”

“You can’t go back there.” His voice was soft, but there was an insidious edge that was beginning to wear on her. “Your mother told you to go, didn’t she?”