Sisters of the Heart - 03 - Forgiven (10 page)

“Oh.”

And Winnie felt bad. After all, she knew exactly what she was doing—shutting out her friend. But it couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t entertain the feelings in her heart.

There wasn’t anything anyone could do.

Winnie had finally fallen hard, and now that she realized that there was nothing she could do in order to make things better, she was going to have to resign herself to a life alone.

Perhaps she would soon find greater value in her work, or in simply being an aunt instead of a mother.

But she didn’t think so.

Everything was going too fast. The rumors and talk were snowballing into a big heap of trouble that couldn’t be escaped.

And David had surely tried.

But there was no avoiding the talk and gossip. Everywhere he looked, people were speculating about the cause of the fire and how the Lundys weren’t about to give up. Jonathan’s struggle to forgive whoever had started the fire was a cause of much discussion.

Men and boys alike were finding it hard not to take sides. Some thought Jonathan was right to have dug in his heels like he had. After all, someone had to take responsibility for the fire, it was the right thing to do. Others thought Jonathan had lost sight of the Bible’s teachings and of the
Ordnung
as well. Compassion and forgiveness were qualities to be proud of, not something to be ignored when the timing wasn’t right.

It had been hard to stay out of all the discussions, but he had done his best.

And still, David’s hands wouldn’t heal. Sores had formed on his burns, stinging and scabbing. They made the most menial tasks an effort and filled with pain. Almost every night, he’d taken to soaking his hands in warm water, hoping and praying for the skin to mend. But it was as if the Lord wasn’t listening to him…or perhaps He was making him pay for his lies and secrets.

“David, you done cleaning the stalls yet?”

No matter how hard he tried otherwise, David always found himself flinching the moment he heard his
daed
’s rough voice. “Yes.”

“Come over, then.”

After putting aside the rake and removing the soiled hay from the premises, he rushed to meet his father, who was looking at him impatiently.

“I don’t know what is taking you so long these days. And let me see those hands of yours.”

Dutifully, David held out his palms, concentrating on keeping his face expressionless as he flattened them out. But oh, how they ached and burned.

To his surprise, his father looked concerned. “They are in a bad way. How come they are so ripped up? What did you do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sure you do. No one hurts hands like that and doesn’t know what happened. What did you do? The truth, now.”

The truth. Oh, how his father loved asking for honesty.

But everyone in the family knew from experience that the only truthfulness Amos wanted to hear were words that didn’t upset him.

But…David also knew the Lord wanted him to speak of the truth, too. Maybe if he finally admitted what happened, his hands would start to heal, and the sleepless nights that plagued him would be a thing of the past.

“David?”

“I…Well, you see…”

“Stop your sputtering. Speak like a man.”

Here was his chance. If he’d been braver or smarter or more confident, David knew he would have seized the moment and told all. But he was afraid of his father. He didn’t trust him. Too many times, he’d met with a sharp comment or quick hand for speaking without thinking.

Now David made sure he never did that. Quickly he made up a story. “I was mending one of the back fences and cut my palms on the barbed wire. It’s nothing.”

Reaching out, his
daed
gripped his hand and looked at it more closely. David’s pulse raced. Was it obvious that the sores were from burns not cuts?

“Did your mother look at them?”

“No. There was no need. I’m fine.”

After eyeing his face another long moment, his father pointed to a basket laden with baked goods. “I want you to take that basket to the Lundys’ for your mother.”

“What?”

The burst of surprise earned him a sharp look. “I said, take that basket to the Lundys’, and be quick about it. Your mother has been in a charitable mind. She’s been baking for Jonathan and his family morning, noon, and night. Go take it over now.”

Slipping on his straw hat, David nodded, then hurried to comply. He’d just picked up the basket and started toward Palmer, their sorrel, when his father’s voice cracked through the quiet. “And David?”

“
Jah?
” He didn’t turn around.

“Don’t be so foolish with the fencing again. I’m to be needin’ every available hand to help with the planting. You should know better.”

“I learned from my mistake,” David murmured. “It won’t happen again.”

David couldn’t believe he was at the Lundys’ again. In the broad daylight, the burnt cinders of the barn made him feel terribly ill and queasy.

“David Hostetler?” little Mary Lundy called out from the front porch. “Is that you?”

“Where’s Katie? I mean, your
mamm
?” David still sometimes had to remind himself that Katie Brenneman was Mrs. Lundy now.

“She’s inside. Go on in.”

David stared at the shut door. To him, that door seemed to symbolize everything that he’d been trying to do—put up as many obstacles as possible so he wouldn’t have to face the consequences.

Mary scampered off her chair and with a swift turn
of the wrist, flew open the door and raced inside. After a second, she peeked out again. “You comin’ ain’tcha?”

“
Jah.
” Once in the kitchen, the heavenly aroma of baked ham and stewed apples floated over him. “Mrs. Lundy, I’ve a basket for you from my
mamm
.”

“She’s such a dear.” Katie slipped the basket on the counter, then linked a hand around his elbow. “I just baked a ham. How about a snack?”

Though the ham did smell enticing, he couldn’t leave fast enough. Pushing his hat back, David shook his head. “No.
Danke
, I’ve gotta get back.”

Her eyes widened at the sight of his hand. “Whatever happened to you?” She reached out and snatched a hand before he could even think. “Oh, my! You have an infection!”

“I’m fine.”

“I think not. Come here by the sink and we’ll try to doctor you up a bit.”

“I don’t want—”

“She likes doing things her way,” Mary chirped up. “You’d best just let her do it.”

“Mary’s right,” Katie said as she pulled out a hand and guided him closer. “Now, come here, and let me see if I can help.”

David thought his heart would stop beating when Katie clasped his right palm, clucked over the swollen areas, opened a jar of ointment, then gently rubbed some over each wound. “How did you get so hurt?”

He claimed the same lie. “Barbed wire.”

“This is
gut
medicine for burns, but I think it will help cuts, too.”

Before he could say another word, she pulled out a clean strip of linen and hastily wrapped his hand. “Keep them wrapped up, David. It will hold off the infection.”

“Yes.”

After doing the same with his other hand, she spooned another bit of ointment into a leftover jelly jar. “Put this on morning and night and your cuts will be better in no time.”

Backing toward the door, he said, “I’ve gotta go.” Turning, he fled the confinement of the Lundys’ kitchen as quick as his feet would take him.

And had the bandages off well before he unsaddled Palmer.

Sam made the drive from Eli’s home to his college campus in under an hour, which felt like a minor miracle. Sometimes the traffic on I–71 got so congested it reminded him of a colony of ants, with everyone simply marching along.

After parking in his assigned spot, he nodded to a few students he recognized around the central fountain, bypassed the library commons area, and hightailed it into the agricultural building.

However, there was nothing otherworldly about the commotion that greeted him once he walked to his department’s offices.

“Hi, Professor Miller!” Zach, one of his students who
worked in the office, called out. “I’m taking a message, but I’ll be off the phone in just one sec.”

“No problem.” Standing in front of Zach’s desk, Sam found that he needed a moment to adjust to the noise and commotion. Phones rang, music blared, and everywhere he looked students were standing in twos and threes and talking as loud as possible.

Once, he used to find the activity and noise energizing. Now, especially after spending the morning with his Amish friends and family, all the noise and lights seemed annoying. Almost unnecessary and distracting from what was really important to him.

With a click, Zach set down the phone. “Sorry”—before Sam could say a word, the student rushed on—“Professor Miller, this place has been going crazy. And you’ve gotten so many messages and papers, there’s hardly an empty inch on your desk.”

“I was only gone a week. I couldn’t have that many messages, surely.”

“You do. Once more, everything’s been slowly falling apart.” Lifting up a stack of slim yellow papers, Zach frowned. “First off, you’ve got about twenty-five messages to return, not to mention all the notes here from students wanting to speak with you.”

“Any reason why?”

“They want to know if you’ve graded their latest quizzes.”

“I haven’t.”

“Don’t tell them that, they’re nervous wrecks,” Zach said, clicking open a screen on his computer.

“I’ll tell the kids they’re going to have to wait a few more days. I’ve had some family commitments.”

That stopped Zach’s fingers. “I’ve never heard you mention your family before.”

“Well, I have one,” he replied wryly.

“I’m sorry how I sounded. It’s just that I’ve never heard you speak of your family. Do they live nearby?”

“About an hour east.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, they um, just needed a hand. A sister of a friend was in the hospital and they needed a translator. And someone to look after her.”

“A translator?”

“Yes. My family is Amish.”

“Amish? Like the old-fashioned people?”

Thinking of how well Eli was juggling spring planting, helping with the Lundy barn, and looking after Caleb by himself, Sam chuckled. “You’d be surprised at how forward thinking they can be.”

“You know what I mean. I mean, don’t they wear hats and white caps and long skirts and ride around in buggies and stuff?”

“Yes.” It made Sam uncomfortable to hear his whole family’s way of life reduced to funny clothes and transportation methods. But, well, that’s part of why he’d always been reluctant to tell people he’d grown up Amish, wasn’t it?

Zach turned completely his way, work forgotten. “So, a translator, huh? What do you guys speak?”

“We speak English.”

He waved a hand. “Come on, Professor. You know what I mean. Don’t they or you speak another language, too? Dutch?”

Well, obviously he was going to have to talk about this, even if he didn’t want to. “The Amish speak Pennsylvania Dutch, but it’s a derivative of German, not Dutch. But everyone learns to speak and write in English as well.” Before Zach could ask any more questions, Sam said, “I’ll go get busy. Sounds like we don’t want to get any further behind.”

“No, we don’t.” Zach looked at him curiously, then shook his head. “So, what do you want me to tell the people who call this afternoon? Are you scheduling visits and taking appointments, or would you rather Kathleen handled the bulk of them?”

“I’ll see students. Kathleen’s bound to be ready for a break.” Approaching the students milling around outside his office door, he said, “Sorry, guys, I don’t have the quizzes graded yet.”

“Can’t you just tell us how we did?” one asked.

“I mean it—I really haven’t had a moment to grade anything. I had some family commitments to take care of.”

The same blank stares met him that Zach had used just a few moments ago. “You all go on, now. I’ll post the grades as soon as I can.”

With a few grumbles, the students turned and walked away. “I didn’t know Professor Miller had a family,” one whispered.

And that was the problem, Sam realized. Over the
last few years, he’d been so intent on his work, he’d done little else. Now he was paying for it.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, he unlocked his office door and turned on the light. “I’ll be in all afternoon and tomorrow,” he turned and said to Zach.

“I’ll pass that on.” Finally looking mollified, Zach added, “Do you need anything, Professor?”

“Sure. Order in a couple of sandwiches and soda when you get time, okay?”

“Italian club?”

“Sure,” he replied as he wandered into the sanctity of his office.

But it didn’t feel homey at all. Instead, it felt like it often did on Fridays, when he was anxious for the weekend to begin. The room felt small and confining. Dark and claustrophobic. Utilitarian and serviceable. Its lack of window made him feel like he was working in a glorified janitor’s closet.

What was even more vexing was the idea that he’d been happy here for quite a while. Correction—he’d been trying to make himself happy here. But perhaps that had been like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

He’d just sat down when the phone rang. Instead of waiting for Zach to screen the call, he picked it up himself. “Miller.”

“Professor, I’m worried about my internship,” Andrew Thrust said in a rush. “No one’s contacted me yet.”

“I’ll look into it. As far as I know, they haven’t made any decisions yet. I’ll call you next week.”

“But what if they don’t accept me? I need this in the worst way.”

“I know. Hang in there, Andrew. What’s meant to be will happen.”

“Oh. Um, well thanks, Professor. You’re the best.”

He’d just hung up when the phone rang again. Now he was feeling a little bit sorry for Zach. No wonder the guy was looking so ragged. “Miller.”

But instead of another question or demand, it was the sweetest voice ever on the other end of the line. “Samuel?”

“Winnie. Hi.” He didn’t even try to hide the concern he was feeling. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh. Yes. I had just heard you left this morning. I um, wondered if you made it back all right. I hope you don’t mind my calling on the telephone.”

“No. I don’t mind at all.” Actually, her concern made him smile for the first time all day. It had been a long time since anyone had worried about him and let him know it so transparently. It had been even longer since he’d felt so pleased that someone cared. “I just walked into my office a few minutes ago. The drive was not a problem at all. Where are you? I know you can’t be calling from home.”