The Crossroad (23 page)

“Me too,” young Ada added.

“My tummy’s gonna cave in,” Mary said, getting poked by her brother.

Lavina figured it shouldn’t be too much longer now. “Let’s count to one hundred in Dutch, and maybe they’ll be back.”

Elijah tried his best, but the four-year-old was havin’ a hard time, mixing up the numbers. It reminded her of how troublesome counting had been for her back when she was a schoolgirl. “You’ll hafta count along with your big brother,” she suggested, knowin’ how awful bad he felt.

He nodded and the other children were eager to help him. But it was Annie who seemed most distracted. She was clearly worried ’bout her mamma.

And now, as she thought on it, Lavina was, too.

Twenty-One

I can’t tell you how glad I am to have that ride over,” Rachel told Esther in the privacy of her bedroom. “It was ever so frightenin’, but I know now that I blocked out the most beautiful memory of all, right along with the horrifying ones.”

“Jacob’s homegoing?” asked Esther.

She nodded. “I just don’t know how I could’ve rejected such an experience.”

“Well, your heart was breakin’, that could be why. Go easy on yourself, dear one.”

“S’pose I oughta.”

“Maybe the Lord saved this special memory for just today … when you most needed to remember,” Esther said softly. “Ain’t it true that God gave you Jacob for a short time, only to take him out of this present life to be with Him? I’ve thought so often since the accident that surely there was a lesson in it … for all of us, maybe.”

“And I think I know now what that lesson might be.”

Esther was silent, and Rachel reached for her cousin’s hand as the women sat on the bed. “The lesson I believe the Lord would have me learn is not to take life’s blessings for granted. The morning we drove to market for the last time, Jacob even said that we always miss what we don’t have. I had to learn the hard way, I guess. Every single day’s a gift from God.”

“The Lord’s grace is abundant … new every morning,” Esther replied.

“And even though my sight hasn’t yet returned, I still have hope that it will … in God’s perfect time.”

Rachel truly wanted to believe it, fightin’ hard against the hopeless feelings inside.

They sat quietly in the stillness of the bedroom, where both Rachel’s large bed and Annie’s little one had been neatly made with homemade quilts and Rachel’s crocheted afghans.

“Wouldja like to talk about Philip?” Esther surprised her by saying. “A special young man, he is. Levi’s very impressed with him … thinks he must surely have a call of God on his life.”

Rachel thought on that. “But why should we talk ’bout him?”

“‘Cause God’s call is on
your
life, too, Rachel.”

“I … I just don’t know what you’re tryin’ to say, bringin’ Philip Bradley up this way.” Honestly, her mouth turned dry as cotton.

“Don’t be shy ’bout prayin’ for Philip, that’s all. Could be that God has a plan for your lives … together.”

She wondered if her feelings for Philip had begun to show. If that was why Esther had brought up the subject. She daresn’t ask. Not even Esther must discover
this
secret.

Philip was enthusiastic to spend time with Levi. The house seemed nearly uninhabited at the present time, even though he knew the Glick children and Annie were off playing in the sunroom. He knew, too, that Rachel and Esther had disappeared upstairs. A good thing, presumably, what with Rachel’s emotional state by trip’s end.

They’d had a sumptuous dinner of baked turkey and ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, along with a number of side vegetable dishes, “wonderful-gut leftovers from Christmas dinner,” Esther had said. It was amazing how she’d single-handedly whipped together such a meal while Rachel was resting.

The fact that Ben and Susanna were away from the house—having a meal with other Old Order church members—meant that Levi and Philip could talk more freely. And with the food cleared away and the kitchen cleaned up, he and Levi had the front room to themselves.

“I’d hoped to help Rachel regain her sight by coming,” he ventured, specifying the information he’d discussed with Rachel. “Clearly, her sight hasn’t returned, and I wonder if she might benefit from a Christian counselor, or even a secular therapist who has experience with such cases.”

“Maybe.” Levi smiled sympathetically.

“Do you know of anyone locally?”

“Well, I know that Rachel has talked with her pastor’s wife on several occasions.”

“Is there a grief group she might join, as well?”

Levi frowned. “I don’t know if she needs a group like that, really. Seems to me she’s moved past her heartache over Jacob and Aaron.”

Philip didn’t press for an explanation but trusted the man’s opinion. It was hard not to. Integrity emanated from Levi. “I hope I didn’t stick my neck out with Rachel, sharing some of the materials I gleaned. I even went so far as to tell her about discussions I had with several New York psychotherapists.”

“Well, how’d she take it?”

“Fine … just fine. But I hope she understands that I came to help … not to cause her confusion.”

Levi eyed him curiously. “
Just
to help, is that it?”

He shrugged, uncertain of what to say.

“I think there may be more to it, Philip.”

How Levi Glick, whom he had met only yesterday, seemed to know and understand Philip’s personal struggle, he did not know.

The Lord’s Day was turnin’ off right nice as Susanna and Benjamin rode home from preachin’ service. Now it was much lighter, what with the sun shinin’ bright and hard against a backdrop of snow and ice, nearly blinding. The road ran downhill past farmland, now dormant for the winter, and gently sloping yards of one Amish neighbor after another.

Susanna wondered how things had gone for Rachel, going in a buggy to the Crossroad, of all things. First time in well over two years. Well, her girl was in right gut company, so to speak. ’Least there were plenty of them, seein’ as how Philip Bradley had gone, too, along with Esther and Levi.

She thought it best not to bring up the matter to Ben just yet. He’d been right quiet the past few days. Still, she’d been itchin’ to talk to him ’bout Rosemary’s account of the “deliverance” that had supposedly occurred at Seth Fisher’s.

Susanna knew she oughta pick her conflicts carefully, this one weighin’ mighty heavy on her mind. So she tilled the soil for discussion, hoping Ben wouldn’t put up too much of a fuss. “Rosemary told me ’bout the bishop’s change of heart before he died,” she said, opening the subject. “Thought maybe you and I oughta be talkin’ ’bout it, too.”

“That’s all well and gut, but I have nothin’ to add.”

“But you saw what she saw, didn’tcha?”

“‘Twasn’t a perty sight, Susie, I’m tellin’ you.”

“Well, the bishop told Rosemary that the Lord had been preparin’ him for Lavina’s visit. Now … what do ya think of that?”

Ben’s eyebrows arched high and long over his eyes. “You don’t mean it.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Well, I’ll be …”

Not permitting a delay in their conversation, she pushed onward. “Rosemary truly believes the bishop got salvation that day—and she did, too, she says … all thanks to Lavina’s prayin’ over them.”

“Could be,” Ben said.

“She’s a true and brave soul, Lavina.”

Ben nodded, his eyes beginning to glisten. “Maybe more than us all.”

Whatever that meant, Susanna didn’t much know. But she had a feelin’ that her husband had made up his mind—had formed an opinion—of what went on at the Fishers’ place. She was almost sure of it.

Benjamin looked weary, so she needed to leave off bein’ overbearing. Quickly, Susanna dropped the matter with nary another word. Later, when her husband was well rested after his nap, she’d fish some more.

Philip was right about his hunch. Rachel
was
discouraged, and it was a wise move to invite her on a short walk to Mill Creek beyond the house. The same location where he had first realized that Rachel could not see. He’d gone that day to soak up some sun. In the midst of flaming autumn colors, he had crouched near the stream that ran across the Zooks’ property, tossing twigs into the water. He hadn’t forgotten how beautiful the young woman was, standing there on the footbridge that spanned the banks, with little Annie guiding her mother’s every step.

Now it was
his
turn to lead the gentle lady whose cheeks were already pink from the cold, even though she was wrapped in a long black shawl and wearing her winter bonnet. “We won’t be gone too long,” he said, his eyes on the snowy path ahead. “I thought a short walk would do us both good.” He didn’t go on to say, “After your ordeal today.” Instead, he added, “Actually, it’s a nice excuse for us to have some time alone.”

Philip noticed that she smiled at his comment, and it gave him the nerve to continue. The weather also served to brighten things a bit, though he knew Rachel could not see the brilliance of the sun as they walked, her arm in his.

“I’ve been thinking … I want to offer to make arrangements for you to see a doctor. There are several I know in New York, and with some help from my brother-in-law, I think we could pull some strings and get you in quickly.”

She didn’t respond or react to his gesture.

“I’m willing to do anything to help you. I could even take you back to New York with me, but you’ll want to think about it, no doubt. And pray.”

“I don’t hafta think
or
pray,” she said softly as they made the turn toward the footbridge. “New York City is your world. I have no desire to leave here.”

He had assumed that she might turn him down, and no wonder. How would an Amishwoman—blind at that—manage in the middle of bustling Manhattan? He could hardly imagine her there.

“It was just a thought” was all he said.

“I appreciate the offer, Philip. It’s awful kind of you.”

Awful kind …

Was he? If he were truly kind, he might tell her how wonderful he thought she was. How very lovely. That her sweet and joyful spirit shone through her every action, word, and deed.

Yet if he said those things, he was unsure as to where they might lead. The truth of the matter was he did not know how to make the leap “back in time,” so to speak, from modern life to the Plain. Even if he knew that he loved Rachel enough to marry her, even then he did not know if her feelings for him were the same.

They came to the highest point of the small bridge, and turning, they leaned on the railing. He peered down at the frozen layers of ice, though he could hear the current continuing its flow far beneath the surface.

“Tell me what you see,” Rachel whispered near him.

“Sunlight and snow. And stark black tree trunks intermingled with tall evergreens.”

“Are there birds?”

“A few crows here and there.”

She sighed. “Come spring, this area is filled with birds, making nests and raisin’ their young… .”

He allowed that thought to linger in the stillness between them, not daring to spoil the moment with a reply.