The Bishop's Daughter (4 page)

An hour later, with a bowl of clam chowder and a stack of saltine crackers piled on a tray, Jim settled himself on the couch in the living room, prepared to watch TV while he ate. When Linda was alive, she would have pitched a fit if he’d wanted to eat in the living room, but she wasn’t here to tell him what to do; and since Jimmy had left to go bowling a short time ago, Jim didn’t have to answer to anyone.

“I still miss you, Linda,” he mumbled. “Even though we had our share of problems, I always loved you.”

Jim thought about the day of Linda’s funeral and how his folks had flown in from Ohio and Linda’s parents and sister had driven to Puyallup from their homes in Idaho. Both sets of parents had suggested that Jim move closer to them, saying it would be good for Jimmy to be near his grandparents. But Jim had refused each of their offers. Linda’s mother was a control freak, and he knew she would have tried to take over raising Jimmy. Besides, there was his painting business to consider. Jim had worked hard to establish a good relationship with the general contractors in the area, not to mention the jobs he got from individual home owners. If he were to sell his business and move to Idaho or Ohio, it would mean having to start over, and he had no desire to do that.

A curl of steam lifted from the bowl of chowder, letting Jim know it was probably still too hot to eat. He grabbed the TV remote and pushed the ON button.
Jimmy and I have done all right by ourselves since Linda died. In fact, if she could see our son now, she’d be real proud. Jimmy’s a good kid, and he’s a dependable worker. One of these day, when I’m ready to retire, I hope to turn my painting business over to him
.

Jim clicked through several channels, hoping to find something interesting to watch, but it was no use. All he could think about was
Jimmy and the promise he’d made to Linda to tell their son the truth about his adoption.

His gaze came to rest on the photo album lying on the coffee table, and he leaned over and picked it up. Turning to the first page, he saw pictures of Jimmy during his first year with them, surrounded by little sayings and drawings Linda had made.
Jimmy takes his first step. Jimmy cuts a tooth. Jimmy turns two
.

He flipped a couple more pages.
Jimmy’s first Christmas. Jimmy playing in the mud. Jimmy eating chocolate ice cream
.

There were pictures of Jimmy on his first day at school, learning to ride a bike, helping Jim rake leaves in the backyard, running through the sprinkler, and so many others depicting the boy’s life over the twenty years he’d been with them. He’d been a happy child, always eager to please and ready to help out. For the first several years, Jimmy had been a mama’s boy, but Linda had finally let go and allowed their son the freedom to find himself.

“I guess she found herself, too,” Jim murmured. “At least she said she had after she started going to church with Beth Walters.” He set the photo album aside. Beth’s husband, Eric, had tried to befriend Jim after Linda died, but Jim didn’t want any part of a holier-than-thou religious fanatic. He had let Jimmy continue to go to church because he’d promised Linda that he would, and for a while, Jim had gone to Jimmy’s church programs, but he didn’t care to go any further with religion.

He reached for his bottle of beer and took a long drink, hoping it would help him relax.

When he’d finished the beer, he leaned against the sofa, no longer in the mood for the chowder, which had now grown cold. A wave of heaviness settled on his shoulders like a five-gallon bucket of paint.
Maybe when we finish the paint job we’re doing on the new grocery store across town, I’ll sit Jimmy down and tell him he’s adopted. I need all my workers for that job, and I won’t take the risk of Jimmy getting upset and walking out on me before it’s done
.

L
eona eased onto the front-porch swing and tried to relax. It had been almost a week since she’d been hit in the face, and still her nose and one eye were swollen. She still had no glasses to wear, either. A new pair had been ordered from the optical shop in town, but they hadn’t come in. Even if they had, she knew she would never be able to put them on. Her nose was too sore, and there was so much inflammation.

Cinnamon, the Irish setter Leona had been given for her twelfth birthday, moved closer to the swing and laid her head in Leona’s lap. It was as if the dog knew she needed sympathy, and Leona had always found comfort in being able to tell Cinnamon her troubles. Sometimes Mom accused her of caring more for the dog than she did for people, but Leona knew that wasn’t true. She simply liked being able to bare her soul to one who wouldn’t sit in judgment or tell her what to do.

“You know whenever I need a listening ear, don’t you, girl?” Leona patted Cinnamon’s head and situated herself against the pillow she’d positioned in one corner of the wooden swing. She missed her students—missed teaching them and preparing for the last day of school when they would have a picnic on the lawn. Leona’s friend Mary Ann Fisher had been hired to take Leona’s place for the remaining weeks of the school year. That had worked out well for Mary Ann, since Anna Beechy had passed away three weeks ago, leaving Mary Ann without her job as Anna’s maid.

A warm breeze eased its way under the eaves of the porch, and Leona sighed.

“Mail’s here,” Mom said, waving a stack of envelopes as she stepped onto the porch.

Cinnamon wagged her tail and let out a
woof
.

“Anything interesting today?” Leona asked.

“Looks like more letters from your pupils.” Mom smiled and took a seat beside Leona. “Seems they’re really missin’ you, jah?”

Leona nodded and blinked back stinging tears that threatened to spill over. She’d been weepy ever since Ezra’s death. “Will you read the letters to me?” she asked, knowing she couldn’t see well enough to read them without her glasses.

“Of course.” Mom opened the first one and announced that it was from Emanuel Lapp.

Dear Teacher Leona
,

I’m sorry about the ball hitting you in the face. Maybe my brother will bring me by to see how you’re doin’ on Sunday since it’s an off-week and there won’t be any preaching
.

“It wasn’t Emanuel’s fault I didn’t have enough sense to keep my eye on the ball. I should have called the kinner in from recess instead of trying to join their game of baseball.”

“Accidents have a way of happening when we least expect them. We can’t stop living for fear that something bad will happen.” Mom reached over and patted Leona’s arm.

Cinnamon added her agreement by placing one huge, red paw in Leona’s lap.

Leona groaned. “My accident was one that could have been avoided if I hadn’t been so eager to join the game.”

A horse and open buggy rolled into the yard just then, interrupting their conversation and causing Cinnamon to bark. The driver pulled up beside the barn, jumped down, and secured his horse to the hitching post. Then he sprinted for the house.

Even without clear vision, Leona could see that it was Abner Lapp, Emanuel’s older brother. Abner worked at a furniture shop in Strasburg and had been overseeing his young sibling ever since their daed had been killed in a buggy accident last winter.

“Wie geht’s, Leona?” Abner’s heavy black boots clunked noisily over the wooden planks as he stepped onto the porch. “I was on my way home from work and decided to stop and see how you’re doing. I’d meant to do it sooner, but I’ve been workin’ a lot of overtime lately.”

Cinnamon released a throaty growl, and Leona laid a firm hand
on the dog’s head to let her know everything was okay. “I’m feeling a little better, although I still don’t have my glasses and my nose is pretty swollen yet.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Abner shied away from Cinnamon and took a seat in the chair beside Leona. He studied her so intently that she felt like a horse being inspected on auction day. “You’re right about your naas being swollen. Looks awful painful to me.”

Leona nodded, and when Cinnamon let out another little
woof
, she leaned down to pat the dog’s silky head. “It’s okay, girl.”

Abner glanced over at Leona’s mamm, and when he smiled, the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight slant. “How’re things with you, Lydia?”

“Can’t complain.” She stood and smoothed the wrinkles in her dark green dress. “I think I’ll take this mail inside and get something cold to drink. Would either of you like a glass of iced tea?”

“That sounds good to me,” Abner was quick to respond. “It’s a warm day, and somethin’ cold would feel mighty good on my parched tongue.”

“All right then.” The screen door squeaked as Mom stepped into the house. Cinnamon released a grunt and flopped onto the porch beneath Leona’s feet.

Abner removed his straw hat and placed it over one knee. Then he lifted his hand to run long fingers through the back of his thick brown hair. “I feel real bad about my brother hittin’ you in the naas. Was he foolin’ around with the ball? ’Cause if he was, then I’ll see that he’s punished.”

“Nee. He wasn’t fooling around. I just wasn’t paying close enough attention, that’s all.”

“That’s good to hear. I mean, the part about Emanuel not foolin’ around.” Abner’s clear blue eyes clouded over as he slowly shook his head. “Ever since Pop died, Emanuel’s sure been a handful.”

Leona nodded. “His grades were down for a while, too, but he’s been doing better lately.”

“I’m glad of that.”

They sat in silence, Leona rocking back and forth in the swing, and Abner fanning his face with the brim of his hat and tapping his boot in rhythm with each forward motion of the swing. “You—uh—think
you’ll be goin’ back to teaching soon?” he finally asked.

Leona touched the bridge of her nose and cringed when her fingers made contact with the tender, bruised flesh. “Well, I’m hoping—” She let her words trail when her mamm stepped onto the porch with two glasses of iced tea.

“Here you go.” Leona’s mamm handed one to Abner and one to Leona, then turned back toward the house.

Leona wished Mom would stay on the porch. Being alone with Abner, or any single man, made her feel about as comfortable as a hen setting on a pile of rocks. She hoped he would gulp down his tea and head for home soon.

“You done messing with pictures?” Jim asked when Jimmy entered the living room.

“Yeah. For now, anyway.”

Jim yawned. They’d gotten off work early this afternoon, thanks to an unexpected rainstorm that had wreaked havoc with the outside paint job they’d been doing on the Save-U-More grocery store. He and Jimmy had eaten a late lunch, and while Jim spent the rest of the afternoon reclining on the couch with a bag of pretzels and a couple bottles of beer, Jimmy had hidden out in his darkroom downstairs. It made no sense that the kid would want to mess around with an antiquated camera and a bunch of chemicals to develop pictures when he could snap some decent-looking shots with a digital camera and print them off on his computer.

Jimmy took a seat in the rocking chair across from Jim. It had been Linda’s favorite chair, and Jim remembered all the nights she had rocked Jimmy to sleep when he was little.

His heart twisted as he thought about the lullabies she used to sing to their son. When he closed his eyes, he could almost smell her rose-scented perfume and feel the softness of her long blond hair between his fingers.
I should have been a better husband. Should have spent more time with her and Jimmy
. In the nine years since Linda had been gone, Jim had only gone out with a couple of women, and those had just been casual dates. His mother had mentioned once that she thought Jimmy
needed a mother, but Jim didn’t see it that way. It would have been stupid to get married again just so Jimmy could have a new mom. No one could ever love the boy the way Linda had.

“You drifting off to sleep, Dad?”

Jim’s eyes snapped open. “Nope. Just doing a bit of reminiscing.”

“Thinking about Mom?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s hard to believe she’s been gone nine years, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Nine long years.” Jim sat up and reached for a freshly opened bottle of beer and took a long swig.

At the same time, Jimmy reached for the newspaper lying on the coffee table between them. “Wonder if there’s anything good playing at the movies this week,” he said. “Allen wants me to go on a double date with him and Sandy on Friday night.”