Plain Paradise (17 page)

“Hi.” She tried to sound as chipper as she could.

“I brought you and Robert a piece of snitz pie. I made it.” Linda pushed a small basket, almost like a miniature picnic basket, toward Josie, and a smile lit her daughter’s face in a way that made Josie just want to drop to her knees and beg to live.

When the doctor first diagnosed her, Josie went through all the emotions, even had counseling. She thought she’d been handling her fate with a sense of bravery, mostly for Robert’s sake, but as Linda stood there in the doorway, smiling and offering her pie, every valiant bone in Josie’s body crumbled, and her loneliness and hopelessness welded together in an upsurge of fear. Her lip began to quiver. She latched onto the basket.

“Thank you.” Josie bit her bottom lip and tried to calm the rest of her body, although the pounding in her head was causing her to feel faint.

Linda’s eyes narrowed with concern. “Josie? Are you all right?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Josie drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I just have a really bad headache, that’s all.”
I want to invite you in,
but I feel so awful
.

Linda stood there, her bright blue eyes confused as she tilted her head slightly to one side. “Is there anything I can do?”

Josie’s thoughts churned inside a splitting head that couldn’t seem to decipher much of anything, but one worry bounced ahead of all the others.
What if this is it? What if I never see Linda again
? She stepped aside and motioned for Linda to come in. “Visit with me for a while.”

“Sure.” Linda hesitated as she stepped through the door, and Josie caught another glance of herself in the mirror.

“Sorry, I know I look a mess. My head is just really hurting.” She sat down on the couch, and Linda took a seat right beside her, then surprised Josie by reaching for her hand.

“Let’s pray.” Linda squeezed Josie’s hand, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. Josie waited for her to say something, but Linda just kept her chin tucked and her eyes closed tightly. She knew how devout the Amish were in their faith. Maybe Linda had some sort of inside track to God, if He existed.

“Okay,” Josie said, hoping Linda would open her eyes and say a prayer on Josie’s behalf. At this point, she was willing to try anything.

Linda opened her eyes and looked at Josie. “Oh, we usually pray silently. Do you want me to offer a prayer aloud?”

Josie was so touched by her offer, along with the fact that she was even here, she nodded. “Please.”

Linda bowed her head again and closed her eyes as she kept a tight hold on Josie’s hand. “Dear Blessed Father, please cure Josie’s headache if it is Your will. Help her to not feel pain. Be with her on this day, and . . .”

Josie pulled her hand from Linda’s, brought both hands to her face, and began to sob. Even for Linda’s sake, she couldn’t hold it together when something so powerful seemed to be latching on inside of her and threatening to deny her the resolve to be strong, to accept what was happening to her. She didn’t want to be strong.

“I’m so incredibly unworthy.” Josie cried harder, knowing that if a God existed, He’d never help her. She had been gone far too long, and to come to Him in a time of need when she’d never graciously thanked Him for all He’d given her . . . it seemed a futile attempt at the eleventh hour to reach out to someone she wasn’t even sure she believed in.

Josie felt Linda’s hand on her shoulder, a gesture which caused her to cry even harder, only elevating the pain in her head.

“We are all unworthy.” Linda’s voice was calm, nurturing, like a mother. Josie pulled her hands from her face and gazed into her daughter’s eyes. “But God is good. He knows we are all unworthy, and He loves us just the same, and He wants to help us. Please, Josie. Don’t cry.”

Josie swiped at her eyes, sniffed, and smiled at Linda. “Thank you.”
But the prayers won’t do any good; my fate is sealed
. Josie stared at Linda and wondered how she’d given birth to someone who possessed such goodness.

“Would you feel better if you lie down? I’ll go so that you can rest.” Linda stood up, and Josie wanted to hug her more than anything in the world. Josie stood up alongside her.

“I want you to stay, but I’m so sorry that my head hurts so much.” She brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“No worries.” Linda smiled. “We have Tuesday night.”

Josie walked alongside Linda to the door. “Yes, we do. And I’m looking forward to that.” When they got to the door, Linda pulled it open, scooted over the threshold, and turned to face Josie.

“I hope you feel better.” She smiled, and Josie wanted to cry again.

“Thank you so much for stopping by and bringing us the pie. Do you want your basket back?” Josie twisted around, ready to go get the basket.

“I’ll get it Tuesday.” Linda stared at Josie with concern in her expression. “Where is Robert?”

“He is visiting a friend, but he’ll be back soon.”

“All right.” Linda gave a little wave. “See you Tuesday.”

Josie smiled, closed the door, and leaned her head against it. She felt the tears building again, and she fought the urge to cry, to feel sorry for herself. Instead, she raised her head, ran a hand through her tangled hair, and headed back to the couch to lie down. Then the strangest feeling came over her. All her thoughts quieted, and a sense of peace flowed over her. She reached up and touched her forehead.

Then she realized she felt no pain at all. Her headache had vanished. Gone.

Linda gave her horse a flick of the reins and pulled out of Josie’s driveway. She’d never seen anyone in such pain from a headache, and that kind of pain scared her more than anything else. Hopefully, Josie would be feeling better by Tuesday. And maybe she’d offer up that big bathroom. Linda smiled as she pictured herself lathered up in sweet-smelling bubble bath, soaking in the big tub while watching television. Maybe she’d even call her
Englisch
friend, Danielle, while she was bathing. She wondered what such luxury would feel like. Then she recalled Stephen’s warning, to watch out for those unequally yoked. They’d been taught that their entire lives, and she didn’t need him to remind her of it. She knew what she was doing. But she didn’t understand Josie getting so upset during prayer. It must have been the pain that caused her to act in such a way.

She glanced to her left as she came over a hill and passed a buggy coming from the other way, no one she recognized, but she nodded in the woman’s direction. No other buggies or automobiles shared the street with her for as far as she could see beneath a cloudless blue sky, just the open road winding between fields of freshly planted soil that filled her senses with hope for a plentiful harvest. She leaned her head back as the warm breeze blew against her face, and she thanked God for the beautiful land, the cows mooing in the distance, and the sense of calm that she felt at this moment. Then she prayed for Josie again.

As she neared the bridge at Ronks, she recalled her first kiss with Stephen. Late at night, they’d traveled on foot scooters and secretly met underneath the bridge after everyone was sleeping. She could still remember the feel of his lips meeting with hers for the first time. They’d met several more times since then, always late at night after their families were asleep. Linda knew her father would tan her hide if he knew she snuck out that late and scooted all the way to the bridge at Ronks, but it had become their special place.

She guided her buggy underneath the crimson structure with openings at both ends, and smiled when she thought about how much the tourists loved the covered bridges. Sometimes they would gather off the side of the road and take pictures. But not today; all was quiet. She glanced to her left as she made her way under the bridge to the spot where Stephen had first kissed her. A white piece of paper was stuffed between two pieces of wood with a pink ribbon tied around it. She passed by it, but then pulled her horse to a stop and eased him slowly backward. Pink was her favorite color, and even though she wasn’t allowed to dress in it, she’d told Stephen repeatedly it was her favorite. She squinted at the rolled up piece of paper bound by a thin strip of pink.
Surely not
.

Smiling, she stepped down from the buggy and walked toward it. She pulled it from its resting place and unrolled it. Her heart began to flutter as she read:

Sunshine is smiling upon you, like a wave of happiness; Never to diminish or fade, like the love in my heart.

She brought the letter to her chest and closed her eyes.
Stephen
. More than once, he’d said, “The sunshine is smiling on you.” It was just something he said, and it always made her smile. She crawled back into the buggy, checked to make sure no one was coming in either direction, then she reached for a pen in the buggy’s storage compartment.

You are my sunshine, that wave of happiness that I carry with me when we are apart; like the love also in my heart.

They’d never told each other that they loved each other face-to-face. This was the closest Stephen had come to doing so, and she wanted to make sure he knew how she felt as well. She rolled the note back up, tied the pink ribbon around it, and walked over to a slightly different spot from where it was before.

As hooves echoed beneath the tunneled bridge, Linda visualized her marriage to Stephen, the exchanging of vows in front of their family and friends. She’d envisioned the event so many times that she could even see her mother and father smiling to her right, her brothers standing to her left, and her cousin, Rachel, as her maid of honor. Bishop Ebersol always seemed less scary in the daydream, almost smiling as he said, “We are gathered here today to bless the marriage of Linda and Stephen . . .” It would be a perfect day.

Josie
. Her vision clouded. Where would Josie be? She would have to be there. Where would she be sitting or standing? Would
Mamm
still be smiling? Would Josie bring her husband, Robert? The daydream vanished completely as she thought about Josie’s place at her wedding—and in her life.

Mary Ellen handed Abe a piece of rhubarb pie, then joined him at the kitchen table with her own piece.

“Where’s Linda? I haven’t seen her since right after worship service.” Abe glanced at the clock on the wall. “Be time to start supper soon, no?”

“
Ya
. Probably shouldn’t be having this pie; it’s going to spoil our appetites.” Mary Ellen tapped her fork gently on the plate. “She went to go check on Jonas.” She took a deep breath. “And to drop off two pieces of pie for Josephine and her husband.”

“You say that like it irritates you.” Abe took a bite of pie and swallowed. “Now that we know that she’s . . . ill, I hope you won’t prevent Linda from seeing her.”

Mary Ellen plunked her fork down on the plate, louder than she’d intended. “Of course I’m not going to keep Linda from seeing her. I’m not some kind of monster, Abe.”

“I never said you were, Mary Ellen. You’re a
gut
woman. I also know that you feel real threatened by Josephine, but Linda is our daughter. That ain’t gonna change.” He shook his head. “We better just count ourselves blessed that Linda forgave us for not telling her that she was adopted. This whole thing could have gone another way, and we were in the wrong about not telling her a long time ago.”

“I know all that, Abe.”

“Maybe we oughta have Josephine and her husband to supper sometime. Might be
gut
for Linda if we are friendly with them, and—”

“I will not.” Mary Ellen sat taller. “It’s fine for Linda to get to know her birth mother, I suppose, but I just can’t do that.”

“Why?” Abe raised his brows, and she didn’t like his tone.

“Because—because I just don’t think . . .” She picked up her plate and got up from the table. After she placed the uneaten piece of pie on the counter, she spun around to face him. “It would just be too awkward, Abe.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” Abe scooped up the last of his pie and closed his mouth around the fork.

Mary Ellen folded her arms across her chest. “Why are you pushing me on this? Linda can visit Josephine, but I don’t have to entertain her in my home, Abe.” She shook her head. “I just don’t want to do that.”