Leah's Choice (12 page)

“We see patients daily, but over here on the other side of the hallway is where the real work is done.”

He moved quickly, towing her along as he crossed the hallway and opened the door. A completely different atmosphere permeated this side of the entry area. A hallway stretched the depth of the building, with rooms and cubicles off it to the left.

Dr. Brandenmyer gestured as he walked, giving her the impression that he liked to do more than one thing at a time. “Here we have an exam room with an area for drawing blood. Next we have the laboratory to analyze that blood.” He nodded to a young man in a blue lab coat wearing goggles.

“The Amish provide a unique opportunity to study genetic diseases, you know.” He paused. “Genetic diseases are those that are carried in the genes, passed on from parent to child.”

He apparently assumed that she had no understanding of the problems at all.

“Like the Crigler-Najjar syndrome and the maple syrup urine disease,” she suggested.

“Yes, exactly.” He looked at her approvingly, as if she were a brighter pupil than he’d anticipated. “You see, most Pennsylvania Amish are descended from the same small group of ancestors. That means that genetic diseases can be more prevalent. If we’re able to trace the family trees of those who are affected, we can come that much closer to identifying the causes.”

“And finding a cure?” Her heart clenched at the thought of the families who would be touched by such a thing.

“We’re a long way from that right now,” he admitted. “But everything we learn moves us forward. Early testing and intervention can help many of the affected children live a much more normal life.”

He stopped at the entrance to a room that seemed completely filled with computers. Johnny brushed past her and crossed to a woman who swung away from one of the screens as they came in.

“Leah, this is Stacie Corson.” He rested his hand lightly on the back of her chair.

The slight, dark-haired young woman shot Johnny an intense glance before nodding at Leah.

“This is where Stacie and I analyze the data,” he said, gazing around at the computers the way her father might look at a field overflowing with ripe corn. “But we need more information to work on.”

“That’s where you come in,” Dr. Brandenmyer said. “You see, the information you bring us will be keyed into the computer.” He moved to one of the machines, patting it lovingly. “This is the most advanced equipment on the market today.” He bent over to tap something, so that a complex chart appeared on the screen. “You see, this is a sample of the—”

“It’s not necessary to give Leah a crash course in computers.” The woman who spoke had been sitting behind one of the machines in the corner of the room, and Leah hadn’t noticed her until that moment.

But she was relieved at the interruption. Very relieved. Her head had begun to ache with the strain of trying to follow Dr. Brandenmyer’s explanations. She’d been keeping up all right, she thought, until they’d reached the computer room, but here she was totally out of her depth.

“Lydia, I didn’t see you back there. This is Leah Beiler, the young woman John told us about. Leah, this is Lydia Weaver.”

“Leah is the teacher, I know,” Lydia said, coming toward them.

Her smile was piercingly sweet, lighting her plain face with an inward beauty. She wore a simple dark dress with low-heeled shoes, her graying hair short and swept back from a face that was frankly middle-aged and didn’t attempt to hide that fact.

“Goodness, look at the time,” Dr. Brandenmyer exclaimed. “It’s a good thing you stopped me, Lydia. I must go. I have a conference call with those researchers in Luzerne in a few minutes. John, you’d better come with me. Stacie can show Leah the charts and explain about the interviews.”

In an instant they were both gone. Stacie didn’t look especially happy at being left behind. She shoved her chair, and it rolled to the next desk so quickly that Leah had to step out of the way.

“It’s very simple, really,” she said, sounding doubtful that Leah could manage no matter how simple. “We’d expect you to visit families who have an instance of genetically linked illness and persuade them to cooperate. There’s a family-tree form to fill out.” She shoved a paper into Leah’s hands. “And an interview form.” She passed her another one. “We encourage all the members of the family to come in for DNA testing. You know what that is, don’t you?”

Leah’s hands tightened on the forms that had been thrust into her hands. This woman didn’t like her, and she wasn’t sure why. Because she was Amish? Plenty of Englischers were prejudiced against the Amish, but this would be a funny place to work if you felt that way.

Or did this have something to do with Johnny?

“I said do you know about DNA testing?”

“Yes.”

Leah clipped off the word and put the papers down on the desk carefully because she wanted to throw them. If Johnny thought she’d be convinced to help them by making her the object of condescension and rudeness, he was mistaken.

“I’m sure there’s time for all of these explanations once Leah has had a chance to think about this,” Lydia interrupted smoothly. “I always have a cup of tea about this time.” She touched Leah’s arm lightly. “Please, come and join me.”

Leah would rather leave, but she would not return rudeness for rudeness by saying so. “That is very kind of you.”

With the sense that the woman had unexpectedly come to her rescue, Leah went with her.

 

 

 

Lydia
led the way into yet another office, but this one was totally different. There was not a computer in sight. The room was simplicity itself, with off-white walls and matching fabric shades on the windows, drawn up to give a view across green pasture. In the distance, an old orchard spread along the hillside, its apple trees gnarled and bent, but still bearing blossoms.

There were blossoms inside, as well, with pots of African violets filling the windowsills. Though there was a desk in the far corner near crowded bookshelves, the focus of the room seemed to be two comfortable-looking padded rockers on an oval hooked rug.

“I like your office.” At an inviting gesture from Lydia, Leah sank into one of the rockers. Its bentwood back fit her perfectly.

“My aim was to make it look as little like an office as possible.”

Lydia turned on what seemed to be an electric kettle and put two mugs on a tray. Her movements were slow and smooth. Calming.

Leah leaned her head back, feeling the last of her stress drain away. “You succeeded. It’s peaceful here.” She hesitated. “You rescued me. That was kind of you.”

Lydia opened a tin and began arranging cookies on a plate. “You looked as if you needed it. I’m afraid this place can be overwhelming.”

“Ja.” The word was heartfelt.

“I’ve noticed that scientists become so focused on their own subject that they’re totally unaware of other people’s reactions.” The kettle was boiling already, and she poured hot water into the cups. “You can be staring at them with a totally blank expression, and they’ll just keep talking.”

That surprised Leah into a laugh. “I’m afraid blank is a wonderful gut description of how I felt when they started talking about the computers.”

“I’m a little familiar with computers, but I confess, the complex programs John and Stacie work with are beyond me.”

Lydia carried the tray to the small, round table that stood between the rockers and put a steaming mug down next to Leah.

Once Leah had taken the tea and an obviously homemade oatmeal cookie, Lydia served herself and sank back in the other rocker.

“That’s better. I always want a break in the late afternoon.”

“This is pleasant.” Leah looked at the woman, curious. “You talk about the scientists as if they’re different from you, but you work here, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m a psychologist, not a genetics researcher. I help the families and the children cope with the difficulties of their situation.”

“It is very hard,” Leah agreed. “I know of several children who ought to be in my school, but their condition doesn’t permit. I try to do what I can, taking them books and learning activities, but it’s not enough.”

Lydia nodded in understanding. “Whatever we do never seems enough, does it? Still, no matter what their condition, the children are a blessing. And those we lose—well, they’re safe in the hands of Jesus.”

Leah studied the woman, caught by the turn of phrase, the way she dressed, even the way she sat. “Lydia, are you . . .”

She stopped, realizing that the question she wanted to ask might be considered rude.

“Am I Plain?” Lydia finished the question for her, smiling. “I was raised Amish, yes.” She shrugged. “But I wanted more education, more choices about the life I would have. So I chose not to join the church.”

“Are you—” Questions flooded her mind. “Do you have a relationship with your family?”

“Oh, yes. It took some time, but we’re close now. They live in Indiana, so I don’t see them as often as I’d like, but we write often, and my nieces and nephews visit in the summer.”

“That’s gut.”

At least, she supposed it was. So far, Johnny didn’t have that chance, but perhaps it would come, given a little patience. Unfortunately, patience had never been one of his strong points.

“You’re happy?”

Lydia considered the question. “Not entirely, I suppose. Sometimes I long to be an Amish woman again, sitting in my own kitchen with my children around me. But none of us gets everything we want, Amish or English. I am content. And I’m very satisfied to be part of the work we’re doing here.”

“I know that it is important work.” Leah stared down at the dark brew in her cup, a little troubled. “But I’m not sure it is right for me.”

For a long moment Lydia didn’t speak. Then she nodded. “I understand. It would be difficult for you in any event, but having John here makes it worse.”

She wanted to deny it, but Lydia saw too much. Or maybe Johnny had been talking about her. That thought was distasteful.

Lydia’s chair rocked as she patted Leah’s hand. “Think about it. Pray about it. See what God’s answer is. That’s all we can ask of you.”

Leah managed a smile, grateful that Lydia, at least, didn’t intend to pressure her. “All right. That I will do.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

He
shouldn’t be letting his mind stray to Teacher Leah when he was worshipping, Daniel reminded himself. He would not glance toward the other side of the aisle to where the women sat, even though he knew perfectly well that she was on the fifth bench back, sitting on the end of the row next to her mother.

His interest was only drawn in that direction because Elizabeth had asked to sit with Teacher Leah, he reasoned. Instead of staying with her father and the boys, she wanted to be on the women’s side of the barn for the worship service, like a grown-up woman.

The Miller family’s large barn had been cleaned and scrubbed until it shone, so that it would be ready to host the service today. The backless benches, which would have arrived by wagon sometime during the week, were arranged in rows so straight that someone might have measured the distance between each of them. When they’d entered, black copies of the Ausbund, the songbook, lay on each bench, ready for the singing.

With the number of families in the district and the every-other-Sunday schedule for worship, Daniel would estimate each family’s turn probably came around only once a year. Twenty-six families was considered ideal for a district back home for that reason, but often the number went up or down a few. If it went up too many, or the homes were too far apart for everyone to make the drive easily by horse and buggy, the district would have to be split into two congregations.

He’d not be added into the schedule here in Pleasant Valley until next year, but when the time came, he’d have to use the barn, just as the Millers did. Some of the brethren had homes large enough to hold worship in, but that seemed to be more common back in Lancaster County, where houses were built with that in mind.

The three-hour service was drawing to a close, as one of their three ministers concluded his sermon. Jonah sagged against Daniel, and he put his arm around the boy. Little ones couldn’t help but grow sleepy during the long service with its slow hymns. Jonah would liven up plenty when it came time to eat.

He felt his gaze stray toward Leah again, and he pulled it back. He hadn’t seen her to speak to in more than a week. He’d best be honest with himself about it. The reason he felt so compelled to see her now was plain and simple—guilt.

He’d misjudged her when he’d found her with Elizabeth that day of the moving. He’d thought she’d overstepped her boundaries, prying into his grief by talking to his daughter instead of calling him and leaving it to him to deal with.

It had been a few days later when he’d brought up the subject with Elizabeth, hoping she was ready to talk about it, and learned that Elizabeth, upset at hearing folk talk, had asked for Leah. Not him. That bitter pill still choked in his throat when he thought of it.

That couldn’t be the extent of his prayer, and he knew it. He’d wronged Leah in his thoughts and in his attitude, and that must be confessed.

He stared down at his hand, clenched on the black fabric of the broadfall trousers of his best suit. That wasn’t enough. His confession wouldn’t be complete until he’d mended matters with Leah herself.