The Bishop's Daughter (33 page)

“Oh? How come?”

“She’s still not doing well in school, and I feel frustrated because nothing I’ve tried has made much difference.”

“Have you brought the problem up at one of your teachers’ meetings?” Mom asked. “I’m sure some of the other Amish teachers have dealt with learning problems similar to Millie’s. Maybe one of ’em will suggest something you haven’t tried yet.”

“I’ll mention it at the meeting that’s scheduled for next week.”

Mom glanced over at Leona and smiled. “It’s good that you’re so concerned about your students—just proves what a dedicated teacher you’ve become.”

Leona made no reply but moved over to the cupboard to get a bottle of maple syrup. She was tempted to mention that if she were able to further her education, she might have more knowledge in dealing with children who had special needs, as Millie obviously had. But she decided to keep her thoughts to herself, knowing that the leaders of their church would never accept the idea of her furthering her education.

There were times, such as when Leona encountered a teaching problem she had no answers for, when she wished she hadn’t been so hasty to join the Amish church as soon as she’d turned eighteen. If she had more education, she could probably do a better job of teaching, and she might not be having such a difficult time getting through to Millie.

“The pancakes are almost done. Would you mind callin’ your daed in from the barn?” Mom’s request forced Leona’s thoughts to the back of her mind.

With a reluctant sigh, Leona grabbed her heavy shawl off the wall peg and hurried out the back door. She wasn’t anxious to spend even a few minutes alone with Papa. Seeing him struggle with his loss of memory was always a reminder of all that she’d lost. She and Papa had been so close in days gone by. Now it was like there was a cavern between them.

When Leona entered the barn, she found her daed bent over a bucket of paint inside one of the horse’s stalls, stirring it with a flat wooden stick. “That way and so. That way and so,” he mumbled over and over.

“What are you doing, Papa?” She stepped into the stall and closed the door behind her.

He looked up and smiled. “Jimmy says I’m gettin’ pretty good at paintin’. He thinks I need more practice. So I’m gonna paint all the horses’ stalls today.”

“I don’t think this is the kind of practice Jimmy had in mind. It’s probably not a good idea for you to do any painting when Arthur, Jimmy, or one of the other painters isn’t around.” Leona touched Papa’s shoulder. “Mom sent me out to let you know that breakfast is ready.”

He frowned. “I ain’t no baby, and you shouldn’t be tellin’ me what to do. I’m a grown man, and I can paint this stall without anyone showin’ me how.”

Leona stepped back as a sense of hope lifted her shoulders. Had her daed’s memory come back? Maybe God had finally answered her prayers. “Do—do you know who I am?”

He nodded. “Sure. You’re my sister.”

Leona shook her head. Maybe Papa just needed a little reminder. “I’m your daughter.”

He blinked a couple of times and stared at her. “You sure about that?”

“Jah. I’m Leona.”

Silence draped around them like the shawl covering her trembling shoulders, until Papa finally lifted his eyebrows and said, “Ona?”

“That’s right. You made up that nickname when I was a little girl.”

His eyes clouded over, but then he gave a quick nod. “Okay.”

Leona felt a chill—one that left her feeling colder than the bitter weather outside. Would this nightmare with Papa living in the past one minute, then acting as if he knew something of the present the next minute ever come to an end? Visions of happier times they had spent together in the barn raced through her mind, and her shoulders drooped with a feeling of hopelessness. Those days were gone for good.

Trying to shake off the nagging thoughts, she turned and grasped the handle of the stall door, squeezing it so tightly that her fingers ached. “You’d better come inside for breakfast now. The pancakes Mom has made will be getting cold.”

“Okay. Should I make out the lights?”

“Better let me do that.”

Jimmy glanced at the cardboard box sitting on the front seat of his truck. “I sure hope she likes her gift. She needs something to get her mind off her troubles.”

He felt a compelling need to offer Leona support, and he knew the reason for his concern went beyond his sense of Christian duty. What had begun as curiosity had quickly turned to attraction. His desire to spend time with Leona and shield her from pain had taken him down a road he’d least expected. Jimmy wasn’t sure how or when it had happened, but he was well on his way to falling in love with the bishop’s daughter. That thought didn’t scare him nearly as much as his concern over what he was going to do about it. If he stayed in Lancaster County and joined the Amish faith, he would feel it necessary to reveal his past—despite the fact that he knew so little about it and had not found his real family. He still, for Mom’s sake, wanted to keep Jim from going to jail. However, he knew it wouldn’t be right to begin a relationship with secrets, so even if he decided to leave Pennsylvania and asked Leona to go with him, he would need to tell her about the kidnapping.

Jimmy reflected on the phone conversation he’d had with Allen a few days ago. Allen had asked Jimmy when he was coming home, and Jimmy had been evasive, saying he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He’d said he was needed here—that Arthur had come to rely on his help with the painting business. He’d also mentioned that he enjoyed spending time with Jacob while he taught him how to paint and do some of the chores he’d done before the accident. He had talked about Leona, too, saying he’d been looking for ways to ease some of the burden she and her folks had been faced with since Jacob’s accident. And before he’d hung up the phone, he’d asked Allen to continue praying.

Jimmy’s truck jerked, then slid to the right, reminding him that the roads were slippery. He pushed his musings aside, determined to concentrate on his driving. In the town of Puyallup, they didn’t get much snow during the winter, but he’d been quick to realize that Lancaster County got more than its share of snow and ice. That meant if he planned to spend the winter here he would need to drive defensively and be prepared to handle his vehicle in all kinds of adverse conditions.

Soon Jimmy steered his truck up the Weavers’ driveway and parked near the barn, where he discovered a horse and buggy tied to the hitching rail. “I hope Leona or her mother isn’t planning to go anywhere today,” he muttered. The roads were too icy, and even with his studded tires, he had slid in places.

He stepped out of the truck, hoisted the box into his arms, and headed for the back door, where most of the Weavers’ friends and family entered whenever they came to visit. Shifting the box to one arm, he rapped his knuckles on the edge of the door. A few seconds later, Lydia answered, wearing a dark blue dress covered with a black apron sprinkled with a dusting of flour.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, “but I was wondering if I could speak to Leona.”

“Jah, sure.” Lydia smiled. “Ever since we finished breakfast, we’ve been baking apple pies, so maybe you’d like to come in and try a piece.” She held the door open, and that was when Jimmy caught sight of Leona standing in the kitchen holding a rolling pin. She, too, had streaks of flour on her dark apron.

The delicious smell of cinnamon teased Jimmy’s senses and caused his stomach to rumble. “A hunk of pie does sound good,” he said as he
stared at Lydia’s daughter. Leona stirred something in him, but he knew that as long as he remained English he could only admire her beauty and strength, never pursue it.
I wonder how it would be to come home to her every night. I wonder how it would feel to kiss—
Jimmy shook his uninvited thoughts aside and stepped forward. He could appreciate Leona’s lips, which sometimes turned into a cute little smile, but it would be wrong for him to kiss them.

“I’ve brought you a gift, Leona,” he said, nodding at the box he held. “Consider it an early Christmas present.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, balancing the box on his knees.

Leona reached for a dish towel and wiped her hands before coming over to the table to join him. Lydia, obviously curious about what was in the box, also headed toward him.

Jimmy opened the flaps, reached inside, and lifted a very sleepy, very furry red puppy out of the box for Leona’s inspection. “What do you think?”

“Such a cute dog,” Lydia said excitedly before her daughter could respond. “She looks like Cinnamon when she was a pup. Don’t you think so, Leona?”

Leona tilted her head and stared at the puppy in such an odd way that it made Jimmy wonder what she was thinking. “Do you like her?” He extended his arms, hoping she would take the animal from him.

The pup, now fully awake, began to squirm, but Leona sat there unmoving.

“She’s yours,” Jimmy said. He was beginning to think he’d made a mistake in buying the little Irish setter.

“She–she’s not Cinnamon, and there isn’t a dog on earth that could take her place.” Leona’s chin quivered, and tears glistened behind her glasses.

Jimmy was afraid she might run out of the room, so he put the puppy back in the box. “She needs a good home, and I was hoping you would like her,” he mumbled as the little dog whimpered.

Lydia reached into the box and rubbed the pup’s ears. “Sure is a cute one.” She glanced over at her daughter, but Leona made no comment.

Lifting the box into his arms, Jimmy stood. “Guess I’d better head back to the pet store and return the puppy.” He nodded at Leona. “I’m sorry for upsetting you. I should have realized it might be too soon.”

“Jacob’s out in the barn trying to paint one of the stalls, and I’m thinking maybe he would like to have that little critter,” Lydia said. “He’s made friends with nearly every animal on our farm, and I’m sure he’d be glad to have another pet.”

Leona jumped up, planting both hands on her hips. “No! Papa’s not responsible enough.”

Lydia clucked her tongue. “Come now, Leona. Your daed’s done real well carin’ for the chickens, horses, and his goat.”

“If Papa had kept that troublesome goat locked in the pen, he wouldn’t have upset my dog and chased her into the street.” Leona’s voice caught on a sob. “I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again—Cinnamon would still be alive if it weren’t for that goat!”

Lydia wrapped her arms around her daughter’s trembling shoulders while Jimmy stood there, not knowing what to say or do. What he’d hoped would be a pleasant surprise for Leona had turned into a messy reminder of the dog she’d lost and her anger toward her dad.

Guess I’m no one to talk
, he thought ruefully.
I haven’t forgiven my dad for what he did, either
.

“I’ll put the puppy in my truck and then stop by the barn to see how Jacob’s doing.” Jimmy offered Leona a quick smile and made a hasty exit. He’d only made it halfway across the yard when Leona called out to him.

“Jimmy, wait!”

He turned and saw her running through the carpet of frozen leaves on the lawn. “You shouldn’t be out here with no coat,” he admonished. “It’s much too cold for that.”

“I’ve changed my mind about the pup. It was nice of you to buy it for me, and I’ve decided to keep her, after all.” Leona opened the flap on the cardboard box, and when she lifted the squirming puppy toward her face, it licked the end of her nose.

Jimmy smiled and took hold of her arm. “Let’s get the two of you inside where it’s warm, and then I think I would like to sample some of your mamm’s apple pie.”

She looked up at him, and a shadowy dimple quivered in one cheek. “Danki, Jimmy. Danki for being such a good friend.”

I
appreciate your willingness to drive me to town,” Leona said, glancing over at Jimmy. His wrinkled forehead let her know that his concentration was on the slippery road.

“Glad I could do it. I didn’t think it was safe for you to drive your horse and buggy on these icy roads.”

She released a tiny laugh. “I’ve handled the buggy in all kinds of weather, but it is much nicer to be taxied into town by such a capable driver.”

He grunted. “I’m not sure how capable I am. We don’t get much snow or ice during the winter in the town where I grew up. When we do, it usually only lasts a few days.”