The Crossroad (5 page)

Philip turned the key in the lock, opening the door to his thirtieth-floor Upper Manhattan apartment. On the wall of windows, he noticed the reflection that crept up from the streetlights far below. They cast a silvery glow over the living room walls, tables, and sectional.

He double-locked the door. Then, instead of turning on the lights, he allowed his eyes to grow accustomed to the dim surroundings. Feeling his way across the wide tiled entrance and toward the living area, he was able to make out more of the furnishings—the long chalkcolored sectional and matching chair, as well as the artsy decorator touches he had scouted out at various bazaars and art exhibits over the past few years. In the absence of interior light, the longer he groped his way toward the windows, the more he was able to see.

He stood near the central window and stared down at the still busy street, ablaze with red and yellow bands of color. He thought of Rachel, blind by choice, though in no way to blame for it. And he thought of bright-eyed Annie, offering her own sight—her little-girl perspective—on their noncomplicated world. It was not his place to attempt to alter things for them, to stick his nose back into their lives on the slim premise of making things better. Besides, Rachel might not embrace the prospect of regaining her sight as something better at all, although he would certainly assume so. No doubt she had been a sighted person prior to the accident that took her husband’s and son’s lives. Yet she
had
seemed somewhat content with her state, though he could only speculate on the matter, due to the fact that he’d scarcely had time to really know her. But, surprisingly, what he had discovered about her—her lack of artifice and pretense—well … simply put: He missed Rachel’s old-fashioned mannerisms.

In contrast to his world, where women willingly and purposefully climbed corporate ladders, it was refreshing to learn that meekness and gentleness were alive and well in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country.

Even despite the rousing discussion with Senator Thomason this very afternoon—thoroughly enjoyable, since the senator himself craved the writing life—Philip recognized that in the depths of his soul he truly longed for something fresh and new. So he had come upon an unexpected fork in the road of his journalistic career—aware of his own talents, yet desirous of a saner pace and setting in which to work. He had shared these concerns openly with Lily—that is, Adele, as she now insisted on being called—in a recent letter, detailing his soul-searching, explaining how many aspects of life in the village of Bird-in-Hand had strongly appealed to him. He’d let her know, too—as a young man might share with his own mother or father—about his purposeful return to his faith, his renewed journey to know the Lord. And he
had
mentioned this to his parents, as well. But Adele … well, there was just something about the woman that allowed him to be completely candid with her.

Adele had replied within a few days of receiving his heartfelt letter.
All of us, at one time or another, must make a choice,
she’d written back.
I’m delighted to know that you are relying on God’s help with your ‘fork in the road,’ as I should have, back when I lost my way spiritually
. He knew she had allowed the disappointments of life to lead her astray. Philip had read and reread the passage so many times, he’d come to memorize it.

Thankfully, he wasn’t standing at such a crossroad, but when the time came for him to choose a life mate, he would hope to make his decision based on God’s will.

One thing for sure, in the next weeks he would make a conscious effort to fight off the impulse to entertain even the most subtle thoughts of a plain and simple country Christmas, possibly a few stolen hours with Rachel and her young daughter in the delightful farming village.

From his perspective—where he stood this night—Rachel Yoder and her People were light years away… .

At last he turned from the window, disallowing himself the luxury of the track lighting overhead to guide the way to his writing studio, even closing his eyes to experience something of what it might be like
not
to see.

Then, fumbling about, he located his office chair, desk, and the computer and monitor, permitting his fingertips to direct him. Eyes tightly shut, he felt his way to the On button, then waited for his computer to boot up. Even before opening his eyes, Philip’s thoughts raced ahead to his nightly research of conversion disorder, namely blind hysteria.

Four

What’re we gonna do for you on your birthday?” Susanna Zook asked her younger sister, Leah, as the two women darned socks in Leah’s warm kitchen.

“Ach, ya know better’n to bring up such a thing,” said Leah, flashing her brown eyes.

“Well, why not? A body only turns sixty once.”

“And fifty-nine once, too!” Leah, on the round side of plump, stood up and laughed over her shoulder as she prepared to pour another cup of hot black coffee.

Susanna shook her head. “Oh, go on. You can’t mean it.”

“I’m sayin’ what I mean, Susie. You just listen to me ’bout this birthday nonsense.” Leah placed two steaming mugs on the table. “Seems to me a person oughta have a say in how she celebrates—or doesn’t.”

“S’pose we oughta do something
extra
special for a stubborn sort like you,” Susanna shot back.

“Mark my words, if there turns out to be a party or some such thing, I’ll know who’s to blame.” She wagged her finger in Susanna’s face.

“
Himmel
, then, if ya really and truly don’t want nothin’.”

Leah’s face broke into a broad smile. “That’s what I want. No cake, no pie … no nothin’.”

“Well, what if we sang to you at the frolic—how ’bout that?” She knew she was pushing things past where she oughta.

Leah kept her eyes on her mending. “You just never quit, do ya?”

“So … if you aren’t sayin’ we
can’t
sing to you, then I s’pose that means we
can
.” She’d made her pronouncement.

Leah clammed up for a good five minutes, so Susanna figured it was time to bring up another subject. Best not to allow festering thoughts to continue. Still, she didn’t see any harm in honoring her youngest sibling’s sixty years on God’s green earth. It wouldn’t be like they were behaving like the Mennonites, partying and such ’bout a birthday. No, they’d just have a nice excuse to fix a big meal and invite everybody over.

“Well, you’ll never guess what I heard Rachel a-mumblin’ to herself yesterday,” Susanna said as casually as she could.

Leah glanced up, grunted, then stuck her head right back down, paying close attention to her poised needle.

Susanna took the grunt as a go-ahead to talk about something unrelated to birthday dinners. So she did. “
Ich hab mich awwer verschtaunt
—Was I ever surprised! Rachel was saying, ‘I will see … I will see!’ over and over in her room. Don’t quite know what to make of it, really.”

“I don’t see how that’s so surprisin’. After all, you kept tellin’ me—for the past two years or so—that she’s made herself blind, didn’tcha?”

“Jah, I’ve said as much.”

“Well, maybe then she can make herself see again, too. What do you think of that?” Leah was truly serious and looked it in the face, the way her dark eyes were so awful intent on Susanna.

“If you ask me, I think Rachel’s gone
ferhoodled
.” Susanna hushed up real fast, though, realizing what she’d just said. Didn’t wanna let on too much ’bout her daughter’s state of mind, ’specially the way Rachel seemed so awful bouncy these days … like she was in love or some such thing.

“What do you mean, Sister?” Leah asked, still sending forth a powerful gaze.

Susanna was cornered—had to say something or leave it up to her sister’s imagination, which, in the end, might be even worse. “Ach,” she pressed onward, “you know how it is when a body gets eyes fixed on something they can’t have.”

Leah brightened. “Are we speakin’ of romance?”

Susanna swallowed hard, worried ’bout what she’d gone and gotten herself into. “Well, I couldn’t say that for sure. But”—and here she dropped her sewing in her lap and gave Leah a grim look—“Rachel’s a bit perplexed, I’m a-thinkin’.”

“Over a man?”

She shrugged. “Who’s to know.”

“Well, I think
you
know,” Leah piped up. “And truth be told, you oughta make positively sure that Mr. Bradley never comes pokin’ his nose ’round here anymore.”

Susanna was surprised that her sister seemed to know exactly what she herself was thinking. And it
was
true. Philip Bradley best not come looking for her daughter anytime soon. That, in fact, must
never
happen. The girl was much too vulnerable these days, what with her comin’ out of mourning just now, wearing the usual Plain colors of blues and greens again. Even the purple dress had up and appeared here lately—the day Lavina came and took Rachel over to her place, just the two of them.

“Don’t s’pose you’d know of a Plain widower ’round Lancaster who might be lookin’ for a right gut wife … and stepdaughter,” Susanna said.

“Well, now, if that don’t beat all.”

“What’re ya sayin’?” Susanna wondered if she’d opened her mouth too soon.

“I think I might know of someone.” Leah’s face looked quite a bit rosier than Susanna had seen it in weeks. Almost as if her sister had stood outside pickin’ sugar peas or tomatoes or shellin’ limas for hours in the sun.

“So … what widower is it that’s lookin’ to marry a second time?” She thought it best not to hold her breath, make her face go white or whatnot; it would never do for Leah to know just how she felt ’bout losing her daughter and granddaughter to marriage. And most likely to an older man at that.

“Name’s John Lapp—a right nice Amishman down in Paradise, though it might be a ways too far … for courtin’ and all. And then again he’s Old Order, so I don’t know how that’d work, what with Rachel leanin’ toward the Beachy group.”

Paradise …

Susanna felt herself sighing with relief. Jah, the town was prob’ly too far away for a romantic encounter, ’specially for horse-and-buggy Amish. Still, if she hadn’t brought up any of this to Leah, the word might never have had a chance to spread ’round the area. ’Course, now she couldn’t go and stick her foot in her mouth and ask her sister not to say anything.

“Best just to let the Lord God set things up,” she managed.

“Jah, but a little help from His children wouldn’t hurt none, don’tcha ’spect?”

Leah had her but good.

The sun clouded over around the time Susanna got in her buggy and prepared to head home to Benjamin. She glanced at the sky, wondering if the weatherman’s prediction would prove true ’bout the first snowstorm of the season. Wasn’t that she minded the snow so much. It was the wind whipping at her face that she had to put up with when she rode horse and buggy somewhere or other. Here lately, she’d gotten more accustomed to calling a van driver to take her places—mostly for trips into Lancaster and sometimes down to Gordonville to buy quantities of fabric on sale for Benjamin’s pants and shirts and little Annie’s slips and things. Rachel, it seemed, had plumb wore out her gray mourning dresses. ’Twasn’t any wonder, seein’ as how she’d put on the same ones over and over again for the past two and a half years.

Jah, it was high time Rachel threw away her old clothes or made rag rugs out of ’em, ’cause her mamma had been thinkin’ of sneaking them dresses out of her daughter’s room and making sure they disappeared.

Rachel couldn’t see anyway and wouldn’t know the difference.

Susanna couldn’t be sure, but she thought her daughter might just be getting to the place where she’d listen to some advice ’bout some of her ongoing quirks and whatnot. Folks were starting to talk here lately ’bout the amount of time Rachel was spending with Lavina, who was under the
Bann
—the shun—for breakin’ her baptismal vow, goin’ off to the Beachy church on account of Rachel and Annie. Susanna and Ben had never approved of Rachel and her beloved Jacob headin’ off to the Beachy church, but least her Rachel hadn’t broken any vows, never having been baptized in the first place. Still, all that time spent with Lavina couldn’t be any gut for Rachel, really, even though she and Lavina
were
kin in a far-removed sort of way.

Truth be told, Susanna was worried that some of Lavina’s peculiar ideas and ways might rub off on Rachel. The poor girl sure didn’t need that.

Rachel redd up the entire upstairs, cleaning bathrooms, shaking rugs, dusting and sweeping under each bed. Then she ironed every last one of her father’s shirts and pants and even cooked up a pot of chicken and dumplings before she slipped the corn bread batter into the oven and hurried upstairs to make a tape-recorded “letter” to her Ohio cousin, Esther Glick.

She saw to it that Annie was occupied downstairs at the kitchen table, making her little drawings with her favorite crayons, before Rachel closed the bedroom door and turned on the recorder.

Hello, Esther!

Greetings from chilly Bird-in-Hand.

Scarcely could I wait to share with you today—you just have no idea how excited I am! Last Thursday, I spent part of the morning with Dat’s relative, Lavina Troyer. Anyhow, she and I got to talking, and she agreed to go with me to visit my great-uncle Gabe’s former fiancée, Adele Herr. Remember, I told you how that New York writer came to stay with us, and he took me to meet Adele? Remember, too, how she told all ’bout what happened here to Gabe when he wouldn’t go along with Bishop Fisher, wouldn’t accept the unholy “healing gift” the bishop wanted to pass on to him? The same way I didn’t wanna have anything to do with Blue Johnny and his black box?

Well, I’ve been thinking long and hard ’bout what it’ll take for me to get my sight back, and I hafta tell you, Esther, it’s become ever so important to me here lately. Something new is happenin’ inside me. I truly want to see again. Not just because it’s so hard bein’ blind in a sighted world—it ain’t that a’tall. I want to see so I can raise Annie, and more than that, I want to see again so I can be a better witness for the Lord.

You might be thinkin’ that I want to take Gabe Esh’s place in ministry, and that could be what God’s callin’ me to do. I don’t know for sure or for certain, not just yet, but I’m trusting the Lord to show me, day by day, what He would have me do for His glory.

I know you and Levi are doing your part out there in Ohio to spread the Good News. Well, I want to do the same. I believe, as you do, that we don’t have much time before the Lord says, “Come on up a little higher.”

Don’t forget how much I enjoy hearing those sermon tapes of your pastor. Whenever you can, will you please send some more?

Wait just a minute, I believe I hear Annie callin’ me. I best run down and check on her.

I’ll finish this later… .

Pressing the Off button, Rachel left the tape recorder on the floor near her dresser and scurried out of the room and downstairs to Annie.

“I’ve been wonderin’ where you were,” the child fussed.

“Sorry, dearie. I was taping a letter to Cousin Esther.”

Annie sighed. “Do ya think they’ll ever come back and live here again?”

“Esther and Levi will prob’ly stay put in Holmes County. But, jah, I wish they’d move back,” Rachel was quick to add.

“They like farmin’, don’t they?”

She nodded. “Workin’ the land’s the best thing for a farmer.”

Annie was quiet for a moment. “Will
we
ever get to farm, Mamma?”

“Well, now, you know we live with Dawdi Ben and Mammi Susanna so we can help them make a living … with the English guests.”

“Are we gonna stay with ’em forever?”

Forever …

Rachel hadn’t thought of that. She’d felt ever so content for the longest time, just going on the way she and Annie had been living.

Annie whispered, “Maybe someday we could farm, too, like Cousin Esther and Levi.”

“Are you hopin’ that we’ll move to Ohio and live with your young cousins—James and Ada, Mary and Elijah?”

“Well, it
would
be lotsa fun havin’ other kids my age, unless …” Annie grew silent again.

“Unless what?”

“Well … I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but it would be awful nice to have some brothers and sisters someday, like my cousin Joshua has, you know?”

Lizzy, her older sister, and her husband had a good many children and another baby on the way. “In order to give you little brothers and sisters, I’d be needing a husband, and you know that’s impossible,” Rachel reminded her daughter.

“‘Cause Dat got killed in the car wreck?”