The Bishop's Daughter (14 page)

When she opened the door a few seconds later, she was surprised to see Abner Lapp standing on the front porch. “Is Leona here?” he asked.

“She’s not at home just now.”

His dark eyebrows lifted under his straw hat as he frowned. “She ain’t, huh?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Mind if I ask when she might be home?”

“She’s gone over to the schoolhouse to get some work done, and I doubt she’ll be here much before supper.”

Abner nodded. “Guess I’ll drive on over there, ’cause I need to talk to her about Emanuel.”

Lydia pursed her lips. “Your little bruder isn’t still blamin’ himself for Leona’s accident, is he?”

Abner shrugged. “I’m not sure, but all of a sudden, he’s sayin’ he doesn’t want to go back to school when it starts up again in August, and I’m hopin’ Leona might have some idea what I can do to persuade him. Short of me takin’ a board to the seat of his pants, that is.”

Before Lydia could respond, Jacob joined them at the door. “Maybe I should have a talk with the boy. I was always able to get through to my kinner—even Arthur, my headstrong one—without having to resort to physical punishment.”

Abner smiled. “That’d be much appreciated. Since I’m only Emanuel’s big bruder and not his daed, it’s hard on our relationship when I have to discipline too much.”

“I’ll drive on over to your place sometime this week and have a little heart-to-heart with Emanuel then,” Jacob said with a nod.

“Danki.” Abner turned and started down the porch steps. “Tell Leona I’m sorry I missed her,” he called over his shoulder.

Lydia watched Abner climb into his buggy and drive away, and then she turned to Jacob and said, “
Er is en erschtaunlicher mann
—he’s an astonishing man. He seems a bit shy, but he’s sure devoted to his family, and in my estimation, that says a whole lot.” She sighed. “I know it’s probably too soon for Leona to think about courting, but maybe in the days ahead, she and Abner will get together.”

Jacob grinned and reached for her hand. “That’s what I’ve been thinkin’, too.”

When Leona opened the schoolhouse door, about to empty the bucket
of water she’d used to clean the floor, she was surprised to see Abner Lapp climb down from his buggy. She had been so busy scrubbing that she hadn’t heard him drive up.

“I stopped by your house to see you,” he called, “but your mamm said you were over here.”

She set the bucket on the porch. “Jah, I’m doing a bit of cleaning.”

He stepped onto the porch and removed his straw hat. “I thought a group of parents would be doin’ that.”

She nodded. “Several are planning to come by in the next week or so to help with some other cleaning and repairs, but I thought as long as I was here I’d do a few things on my own.”

“I see.” Abner shuffled his boots a couple of times and stared down at the porch. “Wanted to tell you that Emanuel’s been sayin’ he doesn’t want to attend school next term.” He leaned against the porch railing and folded his arms. “But your daed said he’d have a talk with him, so that might be enough. I sure don’t want to have to force the boy to go, but I will if it becomes necessary.”

If you think Papa speaking to Emanuel will be enough, then what are you doing here?
Leona wondered as a sense of irritation rose in her chest.
Did Papa send Abner out to the schoolhouse in the hopes of getting the two of us together?

Before Leona could comment, Abner spoke again. “I wasn’t going to bother you with this, since your daed gave his offer to help, but I wanted you to know what’s going on, too.”

She pursed her lips. Emanuel had given her a few problems after his daed died, and though she knew the boy didn’t like to study, she’d had no idea he disliked school so much that he didn’t want to come back for the next term. “Maybe it’s me Emanuel doesn’t like.”

“Now why would you be sayin’ that?”

“I was thinking—if he got in trouble with either you or your mamm because of the ball that hit me in the face, maybe he’s blaming me for whatever punishment he received.” Leona’s pupils were all she had now that she was destined to be an old maid, and the thought of any of them not liking her sent shivers up her spine.

Abner shook his head. “I never really punished the boy, except to give him a lecture on being careful where his aim was whenever he acted as pitcher. Besides, he felt really bad about your naas gettin’ broke, and
if he didn’t like you, I doubt he would have kept askin’ me to drive him over to your place so’s he could see you.”

A sense of relief came over Leona as she thought it all through. Emanuel had seemed genuinely sorry for throwing the ball, and other than being a bit unruly during school, he’d never given her any reason to believe he didn’t like her.

“Guess I should be gettin’ on home,” Abner said. “Danki for takin’ the time to talk to me, Leona.”

“I’ll try to think of some ways to convince Emanuel that he needs to come back to school—just in case my daed doesn’t get through to him,” she said.

Abner smiled, and his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Wish I’d had a teacher as nice as you when I attended school.”

Unsure of what to say to that comment, Leona merely nodded and mumbled, “See you at preaching service on Sunday, Abner.”

As Jimmy drove into the town of Bel Air, his stomach tumbled like a cement mixer. He’d gone online and done a search for the lawyer’s address and phone number before he’d left home, and then he had called and made an appointment for four o’clock this afternoon.

What if he refuses to give me any information? What if he doesn’t know where my real mother is?
Jimmy’s head swam with unanswered questions, and as he pulled into the parking lot in front of Carl Stevens’s office, he knew he had to pray.

“Dear Lord, please slow my racing heart. Put the right words on my tongue. Let me leave here with enough information to begin my search for the woman who gave birth to me. Amen.”

Jimmy climbed out of the truck and entered the building feeling a little less anxious than he had before his prayer.

“May I help you?” a middle-aged, redheaded woman asked when Jimmy stepped up to the reception desk.

He nodded and wiped his sweaty palms along the sides of his jeans. “I’m Jimmy Scott, and I have a four o’clock appointment with Mr. Stevens.”

She glanced at her computer screen and said, “Mr. Stevens is
running a little behind this afternoon, but he’ll be with you shortly.” She motioned to a group of chairs sitting against the far wall. “You can wait over there.”

“Okay, thanks.” Jimmy took a seat and picked up a magazine from the nearby table. He thumbed through a couple of pages and glanced at his watch—the one his dad had given him for his birthday.
I hope Dad understands why I haven’t answered any of the messages he’s left on my voice mail. I can’t deal with talking to him right now. He’d only try to convince me to come home
. Jimmy grimaced.
If Dad had called Mr. Stevens like he said he was going to, I might not have felt the need to come here on my own
.

“Mr. Scott?”

Jimmy’s thoughts came to a halt when the receptionist called his name. He stood.

“Mr. Stevens isn’t ready to see you yet, but I was wondering if you would like a cup of coffee or something cold to drink?”

“Uh—yeah, I guess so.”

“Which would you like?”

“Something cold would be great.”

“We have several kinds of soda. Do you have a favorite?”

When Jimmy said any kind of soda would be fine, the receptionist opened a small refrigerator behind her desk and handed him a bottle of grape soda. “Would you like a glass?”

“No, thanks. This is fine.” Jimmy opened the lid and took a big gulp.

He’d just finished the last of the soda when the receptionist said, “Mr. Stevens will see you now.” She opened the door to her left and motioned Jimmy inside.

A young man with dark hair and metal-framed glasses greeted Jimmy when he stepped into the office.

“I—I have an appointment with Carl Stevens,” Jimmy said, glancing around the room. If Dad had met Mr. Stevens twenty years ago, then he knew the man standing before him couldn’t be the same lawyer.

“I’m Carl Stevens.”

“But—but, I was expecting a much older man,” Jimmy stammered. The young man smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled. “Did you think you’d made an appointment with Carl Stevens Sr.?”

“I—I guess so.”

“That would be my father. He’s retired now. I’m Carl Stevens Jr., and I took over Dad’s practice five years ago.”

Jimmy felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. If this wasn’t the lawyer who had initiated his adoption proceedings, then he had probably made the trip for nothing.

Carl nodded to the straight-backed chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, and you can tell me why you’re here.”

Jimmy sank to the chair, and Carl seated himself in the leather chair behind a mammoth oak desk. “I—uh—I’m not sure you can help me, but my dad—my adoptive dad—came here twenty years ago to get me.” He felt moisture on his forehead and reached up to swipe it away. “Your dad—Carl Stevens Sr.—was the lawyer handling the adoption case.”

Carl Jr. nodded. “I see.”

Jimmy squirmed restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position and wishing he knew what to say.

“So what is it you want from me?”

“Actually, it was your dad I wanted information from, but since he’s no longer practicing law, maybe you might—would you still have the adoption records that took place twenty years ago?”

“I’m sure we would, but you should know up front that a lawyer is bound by client confidentiality, so even if I were to find those records, I wouldn’t be able to tell you the name of your birth parents.”

Jimmy’s heart felt as if it had dropped clear to his toes. Had he driven all this way for nothing? “Isn’t there anything you could tell me? Maybe what hospital I was born in, or—”

“I’ll tell you what,” Carl interrupted. “Let me go in the back room and check through some old filing cabinets, and I’ll see if I can come up with anything helpful for you.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

Carl grabbed a pen and a tablet from his desk. “What are your adoptive parents’ names, and when was the date of the adoption?”

“Jim and Linda Scott, and it took place twenty years ago. It was sometime in June, but I’m not sure of the exact date. I was one year old at the time.”

“Okay. Be right back.” Carl stood and exited the room.

While Jimmy waited, he reached into his jeans and pulled out his pocket change; determined to keep his mind busy and his hands from
shaking, he began to count the coins. Once he’d counted the fistful of money, he glanced at his watch, wondering how long it might take Carl to find the information he’d gone looking for.

When he’d confirmed the amount of loose change in his pockets at least ten times and the lawyer still wasn’t back, he stood and began to pace between the window and the watercooler. Traffic was steady on the street out front, and he wondered if it would take him long to find the hotel where he’d made reservations to spend the night.

He stopped in front of the watercooler and was thinking about getting a drink when the door opened. Carl stepped back into the room with a nod. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s okay.” Jimmy took a seat again, and the lawyer did the same.

“I’m afraid I’ve got bad news,” Carl said. “I did find a Jim and Linda Scott in our database, but the adoption my dad had begun on their behalf fell through when the birth mother changed her mind and decided to keep her baby.”

Jimmy’s mouth dropped open, and once more his lungs felt breathless. “But that can’t be. My mom—my adoptive mom—wrote me a letter before she died. She said my dad had come here alone to pick me up because she’d had a headache that day. She told me how excited she’d been when Dad came back to the hotel with me in his arms.” He stared at the lawyer. “How could that have happened if there’d been no adoption?”

Carl shrugged. “I have no idea, but if there was an adoption, it didn’t take place in this office.” He tapped his pen along the edge of the desk. “But even if there were another adoption, then it couldn’t have happened the same day your dad came here. It would have taken some time for him to find another lawyer and begin new adoption proceedings.”