The Bishop's Daughter (22 page)

“No, I’m not lost.”

“Then what do ya need to know?”

“I was wondering if—has anyone here ever lost a baby?”

The boy blinked a couple of times and then gave a quick nod.

Jimmy set the paper cup on the wooden counter and wiped his sweaty palms along the sides of his jeans. “Really? How long ago?”

“ ’Bout a year, I’d say. Lost my baby goat when its mamm wouldn’t feed it. The poor thing up and died.”

At first Jimmy felt irritation. Then he realized the boy must have misunderstood his question. “I wasn’t talking about an animal. I was referring to a baby boy—about a year old.”

The child’s auburn-colored eyebrows lifted so high they nearly disappeared under the brim of his tattered straw hat. “Is somebody missin’ a baby?”

“Not now. It was about twenty years ago. A man supposedly went to a root beer stand and kidnapped an Amish baby.”

The boy looked at Jimmy like he’d taken leave of his senses. “You sure you got the right place? Ain’t no baby been taken from here. If there was, my folks sure woulda said somethin’ about it.”

“I guess I must have the wrong place.” Jimmy turned and started toward his truck as a feeling of frustration threatened to knock him to the ground. Was all this hunting for an Amish farm selling root beer a waste of his time? Was there any point in continuing to look?

“Don’t ya want the rest of your root beer?” the boy called after him.

“No thanks. I’m not thirsty anymore.”
Maybe what I’d better do is call Dad again. If he really did kidnap me, then he’s got to give me some better answers. And if he’s made the whole story up, then he’d better tell me the truth
.

J
immy climbed into his truck and pushed his painter’s hat down on his head as he waited for Eli to come out of the house. A lot had changed for him in the last few weeks. Thanks to Eli’s parents, Jimmy now rented a small trailer at the back of their property. And because of his new friend’s patient teaching, he had learned a few words of Pennsylvania Dutch and was beginning to feel more comfortable with his surroundings here in Amish country. He and Eli had finished up the job on the schoolhouse a few weeks ago, and then, with the other men in Jacob’s crew, they had painted a couple of houses and the outside of a gift store in Lititz. Today they would begin work on Mark Stauffer’s barn.

Jimmy had learned from Eli that Mark was married to Nancy, one of Naomi Hoffmeir’s sisters. He’d been told that the couple had three children and lived next door to Mark’s folks, Elmer and Mandy. It seemed like everyone in this community was related somehow.

“Guder mariye,” Eli said, climbing into Jimmy’s pickup.

“Guder mariye to you, too.” Jimmy grinned. “Did I say ‘good morning’ right?”

Eli nodded. “You’re catchin’ on real good to the Deitsch.”

Feeling rather pleased with himself, Jimmy turned on the engine and steered his vehicle down the driveway. A short time later, they arrived at the Stauffers’ place.

Jimmy noticed right away that the barn had already been scraped and primed. With a crew of five painters working on the building, including the bishop, it should take them only a few days to complete the job.

Jacob gave everyone instructions, telling the men to begin work on the shaded side of the barn. He asked his son, Arthur, to work with
Jimmy on the back side, while Eli and Richard painted the doors and trim around the windows.

“I’ll climb the forty-foot ladder and do the high spots,” Jacob announced. “That way, I can look down and see how things are goin’.”

“Why don’t you let me or one of the younger men do that, Pop?” Arthur suggested. “You’re gettin’ too old to be up on a tall ladder.”

Jacob leveled his son with a most determined look and shook his head. “I ain’t old, and since I’m the boss, I’ll decide who gets to do what.”

Jimmy bit back a chuckle and looked the other way. He got a kick out of the bishop’s spunky attitude.
I’ll bet my dad will be that way when he gets to be Jacob’s age. He has always liked to be the one in control
.

Thinking about Dad caused Jimmy to worry a bit. He’d tried several times in the last few days to reach his dad by phone, and all he ever got was the answering machine at home or voice mail on his cell.
I hope he’s not on another drinking bender. If he is. . . Oh, man, I wish I’d thought to bring Ed’s number with me. Maybe I’ll give Allen a call when I get off work today and ask him to check up on Dad
.

Jim rolled over in bed, grabbed the extra pillow beside his head, and covered his ears. Even so, his alarm clock continued to blare in his ear. He knew it was 6:00 a.m., and he also knew he was supposed to leave for work in one hour. But he didn’t know how he would make it. He’d been drinking steadily for nearly a week—sometimes not even bothering to come home at night. Last night, he’d finally sobered up enough to realize he needed a bath and a good night’s sleep, so he’d left his van parked at The Gold Fish Tavern and called a cab to take him home.

I’ve missed a week’s worth of work, too
, he thought ruefully.
But then I’m sure Ed’s been keeping our jobs going
. He moaned and swung one leg, then the other, over the side of the bed. “Oh, my head’s killing me.”

Jim rubbed his blurry eyes, and as his vision began to focus, his gaze came to rest on the picture sitting on the dresser across the room. It was the last picture of Jim, Linda, and Jimmy together, taken a year before Linda died.

He grimaced, remembering how he’d put up a fuss when Linda told
him about the appointment she’d made with the portrait studio across town. He’d said he was too busy to go but had finally relented when Linda reminded him that she might not have much longer to live. “I was such a lousy husband. Never could do anything right, and I guess I still can’t.”

He thought of all the times Linda had tried to get him to go to church, and how her friends, Beth and Eric Walters, had attempted to be his friend after she’d died. But he’d continued to reject all forms of religion, and he sure didn’t need any Bible-thumping friends of Linda’s to hold his hand.

A feeling of sadness and deep regret swept over him like a heavy fog as he thought about Jimmy and how he had failed him, too.
If I hadn’t kidnapped the boy when he was a baby, he wouldn’t be on a quest to find his rightful heritage now, and I wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of going to jail
.

Jim stood on rubbery legs and ambled across the room toward his closet.
I don’t care whether he believes me about the kidnapping or not. Maybe if he thinks I made up the whole story, he’ll stop searching for his real parents and come home
.

Feeling the need for some kind of comfort, he halted when he reached his dresser and grabbed the half-empty bottle of beer he’d left sitting there the night before. “At least I’ve got one friend I can count on,” he mumbled as he lifted the bottle to his parched lips.

As Leona drove her horse and buggy down Harristown Road toward Nancy and Mark Stauffer’s place, the sounds of summer engulfed her. The buzz of insects, the
click-click-click
of sprinklers, and the continual chirp of birds overhead—all brought a sense of peace she hadn’t experienced in many days.

She thought about the conversation she’d had with Naomi when she stopped by Hoffmeirs’ General Store yesterday afternoon. Naomi had mentioned that things were still strained between her and her daed, and she said she was sure that, even though many years ago Abraham had said he’d forgiven her for leaving Zach alone, he’d never truly let it go.

“So much pain and distress some people must endure.” She inhaled deeply, savoring the pleasant aroma of freshly cut hay. Then she glanced across the road to see where the smell came from. There she spotted the newly mowed field bordering the Stauffers’ place, and in the distance, she could see their stately white house with the faded red barn sitting behind it.

As Leona drew closer, she caught sight of Papa’s crew painting on one side of the barn. She directed the horse onto the graveled driveway and stopped near the house where there would be less chance of getting paint on the buggy.

Jimmy waved to her, and she lifted her hand in response. Then she climbed down from the buggy, secured the horse to a maple tree, and headed for the barn.

“What brings you over here today?” Jimmy asked as she drew near.

“I brought my daed’s lunch. He left it on the kitchen counter when he went to work this morning.”

“Pop must have been in a hurry to get over here and begin working on Mark’s barn,” Arthur interjected as he came around the corner carrying a bucket of paint.

“I think so,” Leona said with a nod. “Where is our daed, anyhow?”

Arthur turned and pointed to a ladder leaning against one side of the barn. “Up there.”

Leona shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun and tipped her head to get a better look. There stood Papa on the third-to-the-last rung of the ladder with his paintbrush zipping back and forth faster than she could blink. She sucked in her breath. “
Ach
, my! He shouldn’t be on that tall ladder.”

“He insisted on doing the high painting,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he reminded me, like always, that he’s the boss.”

Leona knew how stubborn her daed could be when it came to anyone telling him how to run his business—including his only son.

“Jacob’s doing fine so far.” Jimmy’s long legs filled the space between them. “I’m sure he would have let one of the younger men do the high painting if he didn’t think he was capable of doing it himself.”

Leona looked over at Jimmy and was about to comment when
her daed hollered down, “Can someone run up to the house and see if Nancy’s got some
weschp
spray? There’s a wasp’s nest up here, and some of them critters have been buzzin’ me real good.” The ladder wobbled as he lifted his straw hat from his head and waved it in the air. “Get away from me, you crazy weschp!”

“Be careful, Papa, the ladder is—” Leona gasped as the ladder lurched and her daed lost his grip, falling straight to the ground.

Every man dropped his brush and rushed to their boss’s side, but Leona just stood there, too numb to move.

“Pop! Can ya hear me?” Arthur looked at Leona with a pained expression. “He’s out cold, and there’s blood coming out of his ears. Someone with a cell phone had better call 9-1-1!”