Blessings (21 page)

“A wedding. . .” Trina shook her head, wonder filling her. Soon she’d be Mrs. Graham Ortmann
and
a veterinarian. How could her heart hold so much happiness at once?

T
WENTY-ONE

T
he first Sunday in October, the acting minister published Graham and Trina to the congregation, making known their intention to become husband and wife. Although Trina noted the well-wishing didn’t seem quite as exuberant for her as it had for Michelle only a few weeks earlier, she managed to swallow the prick of disappointment. Changes were hard for many in the fellowship, and she would need to be patient until they accepted this new road on which she was embarking.

Mama, in preparation for the announcement, had invited Graham’s immediate family plus Trina’s grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins to dinner at the café. Dad had grumbled a bit about opening the café on a Sunday, but Mama pointed out there wasn’t enough room at the house. Plus she wasn’t serving paying customers— she was treating the family to a celebration. So Dad nodded and agreed.

Nearly all of the tables and booths were filled, and when Trina tried to help serve, the ladies shooed her from the kitchen. “Go sit,” Aunt Marie said, taking her by the shoulders and giving a gentle shove. “Soon enough you’ll be serving Sunday dinner to your own family. For now, let us spoil you a little bit.”

So Trina joined Graham’s family, Dad, and Tony at the table in the middle of the dining room and allowed the others to wait on her. Mama had prepared all of Trina’s favorites—meat loaf, mashed potatoes with lots of butter and fresh chives, steamed whole green beans flavored with slivered almonds, crusty rolls, and lime Jell-O holding together chopped apples, pecans, and celery. Filling her plate, Trina wondered if she’d have room for the German chocolate cake Mama had baked for dessert.

Conversation around the many tables and booths filled the café with happy noise, and Trina missed Mrs. Ortmann’s comment. Trina leaned closer, raising her eyebrows in a silent query for her to repeat the words.

“Has Dr. Groening agreed to sell you the clinic when he retires?”

Trina stifled a sigh. “No, but he hasn’t come right out and said he won’t, either.” Trina recalled the lengthy discussion concerning the future of the clinic. While she understood the doctor’s reluctance to commit to another five years of work, she still wished for the security of knowing the clinic would be there waiting for her. “He’s sixty-eight years old already, and he isn’t sure he wants to continue for five more years.”

Mrs. Ortmann nodded, sympathy softening her expression. “I don’t suppose a person can blame him. He’s taken care of animals in our community for many, many years. He’s earned a break.”

Trina agreed wholeheartedly. Dr. Groening had been a dedicated servant and was well liked by all of the area residents—Amish, Mennonite, and worldly. She would have some big shoes to fill when she took over the clinic.

Graham’s father inserted, “I can’t imagine there’s anyone else around here who would buy the place. I haven’t heard of any young people in the nearby communities planning to go to veterinary school.”

Trina’s heart tripped hopefully. “I haven’t, either. Even though I’d prefer a commitment from him to let me take over the clinic, I have to trust God will work things out. After all”—she flashed Graham a smile—“He’s worked everything else out.”

Tony reached to the middle of the table for another roll. “And who knows? If Trina makes good, maybe the bishop will say it’s okay for others of us to go to school. I think it might be fun to go to college, too.”

Trina put her hand on Tony’s arm. “I’m not doing this for fun, Tony. If God hadn’t put the desire in my heart, I wouldn’t be pursuing it.” Her brother’s cheeks flushed even though Trina kept her voice gentle. “You need to pray about your future and follow the plan God has for you instead of looking for fun.”

Dad harrumphed under his breath, the sound barely discernible.

Trina hung her head, battling tears. The celebratory mood darkened with her father’s reaction. Why couldn’t he see she hadn’t set out to hurt him by following her heart? Why couldn’t he allow her to follow God’s leading without making her feel guilty?

Graham’s warm hand on her shoulder brought her head up. Graham leaned forward to address her father. “Mr. Muller, I know you still harbor concerns about Trina going to college.”

Dad’s brow furrowed into a scowl. “You’re right.”

“I want you to know I was very concerned, too, but prayer gave my heart peace. I will continue to pray for your peace.”

Silence fell around the table, although talking went on animatedly at the other tables. Everyone looked at Dad, who kept his gaze on his plate. Suddenly he pushed his chair back and dropped his napkin on top of his uneaten food. “If you’ll excuse me.” He strode from the restaurant. Mama jumped up and followed him.

A knot formed in Trina’s throat, and she swallowed hard, willing herself not to cry. Too frequently tears had been her companion of late. She did not want to cry today—not on the day she was published to the man she loved. With effort, she lifted her chin and forced a bright smile. “Tony, pass the green beans, please. Mama outdid herself today—everything is so yummy!”

To her gratitude, the others followed suit by talking again, filling the uncomfortable silence with cheerful chatter. In minutes, Mama returned, sat down, and sent Trina an apologetic look. Trina shrugged, offering a silent reply, and they finished their meal without commenting on her father’s absence.

When everyone had finished, Tony and their cousins Andrew and Jacob and their wives volunteered to wash dishes and put the café back in order. Graham gave Trina a gentle hug good-bye at the door.

“Do you want me to come over to the house with you?”

She knew he was asking if she would need support in facing her father, and her heart swelled with gratefulness for this understanding man. But she shook her head. “No. I’m going to have a talk with Dad—somehow I must make him understand why I have to follow my heart—but it needs to be between the two of us. In fact. . .” She scowled, glancing past Graham to her mother, where she chatted with Uncle Henry and Aunt Marie. “I’m going to see if Mama will leave us alone and let us work this out for ourselves. She means well, but she tends to interfere.”

Graham smiled, releasing a light chuckle. “Your mother interfering? I can’t imagine that.”

Trina laughed, recognizing the teasing. “Yes, we all know her well! But I love her anyway. And since this whole thing started, she’s become such a surprising support. I feel as though I finally have the mother I always wanted. I’ll never complain about her again.”

Graham quirked one brow.

She laughed again. “And someday you’ll probably need to remind me I said that. But for now. . .” With a quick glance around, she rose up on tiptoe and planted a quick kiss on Graham’s smooth cheek. “I’ll go talk to Dad. Pray for me?”

“Of course.” He squeezed her hand.

Mama willingly agreed to give Trina and her father some alone time, and she went to Uncle Henry’s. Trina headed home, praying all the way for a reconciliation of her relationship with her father. When she entered the house, she found Dad in the living room on the sofa. A newspaper lay in his lap, but his eyes were closed, his head back.

Trina cleared her throat, and Dad jumped. He opened his eyes and peered around, focusing on her. Immediately a frown formed on his face.

“Trina.” The single word managed to convey disapproval.

“Dad.” Trina sat down at the other end of the sofa.

He straightened in the seat, lifting the paper. “Is the party over?”

“Yes.”

“Where are your brother and mother?”

“Tony’s cleaning up the café, and Mama went over to Uncle Henry’s.”

Dad’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

“I asked her to.”

His brows came down. “Oh.”

Trina scooted a little closer. “Dad, can we talk?”

Dad shook the paper, turning his frowning gaze to the printed pages. “About what?”

Trina reached out and pushed the newspaper back into his lap. “About me. And college. And you.” Despite her determination not to let emotion get in the way, tears pricked her eyes. “Please, Dad. You’re tearing me in two.”

Dad set his jaw, his eyes straight ahead. “You obviously don’t need my approval, Trina. You’re going on without it, so I don’t see why—”

“Because I love you.” Trina spoke quietly, her gaze never wavering from her father’s face even if he refused to return it. “Because your approval is important to me. You were so supportive when I asked to work for Dr. Groening. I know I should have been completely honest about why I wanted to work for him, but I’ve asked you to forgive me for that. I guess I’m asking again, because until you truly forgive me, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to get past your anger.”

“I’m not angry!”

In spite of herself, Trina smiled. “Your tone says otherwise.”

“Trina. . .” Dad sighed, dropping his head as if he carried a great burden. “It comes out as anger, but I’m not as much angry as worried. Worried for you. Worried for Tony. Worried for the fellowship as a whole.”

Trina tipped her head. “Why?” Finally Dad looked at her. She saw the concern in his eyes, and her heart melted, her frustration with him washing away. “Please tell me why.”

“You’re young, Trina. You haven’t seen what change can do to the community. When I was just a young boy and my father was a deacon, the fellowship split when the deacons agreed to allow members to have electricity in their homes. Those who disagreed with the decision moved to southeast Kansas—among them, some cousins I miss to this day. My life was never the same. Relationships were never the same.”

Dad flipped one hand outward, grimacing. “Oh, over time, the furor settled down, but there was always a hole where those people used to be. And that hole has never been filled.” He snorted. “The benefit of electricity can’t take the place of
people
in a person’s heart.”

Trina nodded. Being able to pursue her dream had created a rift in several relationships. Even though she hadn’t been separated from those people physically, there was an emotional separation that was just as wide. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you do.” Dad leaned his elbows on his knees. He linked his fingers then stared at his joined hands. “What you’re doing—going to college—has the potential to divide the fellowship again. Already I’ve heard rumblings that one of our members plans to leave with his children. Others could follow. Even if it doesn’t divide the entire fellowship, it’s dividing our family. Things haven’t been the same under this roof ever since you woke your mother and me up in the middle of the night.”

Trina could have argued it was her father’s choice to divide the family—with his acceptance, things could return to normal. But she kept her thought to herself, allowing him to fully express his views without interruption.

“Now your brother is talking about college.” He blew out a noisy breath. “What would he do in college? He wants to be a farmer, like me. Like his grandfathers. All college would do for him is to take him away from the fellowship and put him with worldly people who could distort his faith. No good could come of that.”

Dad angled his head to peer at her. His lowered brows turned his eyes into slits of distrust. “By giving you permission to attend college, the deacons have opened the door for all of our young people to leave the community. Some will do it just because they can, not because—as you’ve claimed—God put a desire in their hearts. And some will get caught up in the world and never come back. Leaving holes, Trina.”

Trina swallowed, seeking words to offer reassurance. She wanted to promise that what her father feared wouldn’t come to pass, yet she knew words would be futile. And she couldn’t make promises that might not be able to be kept. How could she predict what might happen in the future?

“I wish I could say you’re wrong, Dad, and that only good will come of my being allowed to become a veterinarian. But I don’t know what others will do. I keep praying things will be okay, that everyone will accept it as God’s will. Some will, eventually, and others may not. All I know for sure is I can’t ignore it. When I wasn’t preparing to walk where God called, I was miserable.”

Dad’s head slowly bobbed in a single nod.

“I sure don’t want to make others feel miserable—especially you, because I love you so much—and a part of me still aches because of the unhappiness I’ve created. But now that I’m studying again, I feel. . .” She sought a word to describe what following her dream meant, and she settled on one: “Whole. I
have
to do what God asks me to do. Can you try to understand that?”

Dad drew in a deep, slow breath and held it for several long seconds. The breath expelled in a rush, and he puckered his lips into a thoughtful scowl, staring straight ahead. Finally he looked at her and shook his head. “No guarantees, Trina, but I’ll try to understand. And I’ll try not to let my worries turn into anger.”

Trina squeezed his knee. “Thank you. I can promise one thing, Dad. I won’t be pulled into the world permanently. When I’m done with college, I’m coming back. I want to be a veterinarian right here in Sommerfeld. My heart is in this community, in this fellowship, in this family. That won’t change.”