Anna's Healing (11 page)

“They were, and the older ones are as well. The one who died was her first girl.”

“That's so sad, Anna.”

Instead of reminding her that it was
Gotte's wille
, Anna opened the door of the car and climbed out.

She gave Chloe a little wave goodbye and started toward the porch, but she turned when she heard the window of the car slide down. Chloe called out to her, so she walked back.

“I don't visit my mother nearly enough.” Chloe was leaning across the seat, so she could see her better. “My mom's a quilter too.”

“Is she now?”

“It's a different kind of quilting, but you might find the things she makes interesting. We could go and see her next Tuesday if you want. Same time?”

Anna pretended to hesitate, crossing her arms and tapping her right index finger against her lips. “It seems that… I might be free next Tuesday afternoon.
Ya
, I suppose I am.”

Chloe laughed. “Thanks for checking your schedule. I'll see you then.”

She made a three-point turn, and then she started back down the driveway. As Anna stood and watched her, Chloe stuck a hand out the window and waved.

She had an
Englisch
friend.

She hadn't ever considered such a thing, but she supposed it was—as her
aenti
was apt to say—
Gotte's wille
.

Which might be the best thing that had happened to her since moving to Oklahoma.

CHAPTER 15

J
acob never intended to show up in Mayes County, Oklahoma. His plan had been to keep moving south, slowly curving toward Florida. If he'd written out a travel route, it would have been something like Kansas to Missouri, then Arkansas to Tennessee. From there he could work his way through Georgia and on to Florida. He'd never envisioned Oklahoma in his future.

But the situation at Saul Yoder's had thrown a hitch in his buggy, figuratively speaking. He didn't actually own a buggy, but his mind and emotions were still reeling from what had happened. He had walked out of the meeting with the bishop, picked up his single bag, which he'd left on the front porch, and headed to town. To give Saul credit, the man had stopped him before he reached the end of the lane.

“I stand by any decisions made by my bishop.”

“Of course you do.”

“He's a fair man.”

Jacob didn't answer that. Was the bishop a fair man? Maybe, but it seemed that he'd landed on the wrong side of the situation with Miguel Garza. Jacob wouldn't attempt to argue that, though. There was no point, and he could see it in the set of Saul's jaw. He'd expected as much. What he hadn't anticipated was the look of misery and compassion in the older man's eyes.

“You saved a young man from harm.” Saul looked incredibly older to Jacob, older than the day he'd picked him up near the bus station.
He had aged in the last few days, a fact evident in the extra lines around his eyes and the slope of his shoulders, as if the world had suddenly become a weightier place. He set a weathered hand on Jacob's arm. “I can't be approving of what you did, but I love you for it.”

With those words, he turned and began walking back to his house.

Jacob called out before he was three yards away. “
Gotte
's blessing on your family, Saul.”

“And you as well, Jacob.”

The walk into town had been an easier trek because of those words of grace and forgiveness shared between the two. But when Jacob reached the bus ticket booth, he had no idea where he was going.

“Pick a direction,” the middle-aged
Englisch
woman had said, a look of amusement on her face.

“South,” he'd muttered.

Without any other question, the woman had printed out a ticket to Oklahoma.

Fair enough. What other Amish settlement was south of Kansas? None that he knew of. He'd temporarily forgotten that his ultimate destination for the winter was Florida.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, he had boarded the bus and scrunched down on a seat that had no one near it. He'd pulled down the brim of his hat to cover his eyes, pushed away any thoughts of the last several days, and slept most of the trip.

When he'd awakened he was rested but completely disoriented. Where had the woman with the short gray hair sent him? Oklahoma?

A sign across the street proclaimed “Tulsa Pawn and Loan Shop.”

Tulsa, Oklahoma. What would he do in a city the size of Tulsa? Situated on the Arkansas River, the area boasted more than a million people. Jacob had spent some time in large urban areas before. He couldn't claim to like it very much, and he certainly didn't want to be there during harvest. He needed to be working out in the fields.

He spent three nights at a local mission that provided housing for those in need. One of the counselors informed him that there were only two Amish communities in Oklahoma—one in Cody's Creek,
an hour to the east. The other was in Clarita, more than two hours to the south.

“It's quite small.”

They were sitting at one of the long tables where volunteers had served dinner an hour earlier. Jacob had insisted on working to pay for his room and board, but he realized this was not a place he wanted to stay, so he'd sought out the counselor.

“Exactly how small is Clarita?”

“It's a one-church district.” The older man rubbed a hand over the top of his bald head. “Your best bet is to head east to Cody's Creek. It's bigger with four church districts, and I'm sure you can find some work there. They're only now pulling in their harvest, or so I'm told.”

The man had then offered him bus money, which Jacob refused. He had more than enough left from his work in Yoder for the bus fare. It was a short ride to Cody's Creek, and the cost reflected that. So he once again boarded the bus on a Tuesday evening. There were times, like this leg of his trip, when he wondered why he didn't go home, settle down on the family farm, and become an active member of the church. But each time that thought passed through his mind, he would experience a feeling of being trapped, much like a hog he had seen in one of the fields in Yoder. Wild hogs were a problem, and Jacob understood why the farmers felt the need to trap them. However, he wasn't ready to be that settled. Best to head east as the man at the mission had suggested.

By the time the bus pulled into Mayes County, Jacob was no longer certain he had made the right decision. The place looked deserted, but then it was nine thirty in the evening.

He remembered reading something about the area, but he couldn't recall any of the details. Stretching, he grabbed his bag off the empty seat next to him and walked out into a dark evening. There weren't a lot of businesses in Cody's Creek—though the town's name was proclaimed boldly over an
Englisch
bank. The few businesses that existed were closed.

Shouldering his bag, he followed the signs to a local park, made himself a passable bed on a wooden bench, and set in for a long night.
The hours on the bus from Yoder followed by the days in Tulsa had left him restless. The last thing he wanted to do was waste time on a park bench, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be in Cody's Creek. Perhaps in the morning he would board the bus again and continue heading east.

He pulled out his wallet and counted the money he had left from his work at Saul's farm. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to last him a couple of weeks if he was careful.

Then again, his last phone call home had revealed that his parents were struggling financially. It wasn't something his mom had said, but rather what she didn't say. No references to a good harvest. No mention of fall clothes for his brothers. There must have been some problem, though when he asked after their health she'd assured him everyone was fine. Perhaps the crop hadn't produced as well as they had hoped. There were dozens of things that could go wrong with a crop. Jacob felt he'd seen every one of them in the last few years. Suddenly he was tired and dreaming of home. He drifted off for an hour or so. When he woke, the moon was high and the stars shone like so many fireflies.

He sat up, fetched his water bottle from his bag, and drank deeply from it.

He realized as he studied that darkness that he couldn't say why he went where he went, or how he made his decisions. He knew Sarasota was a good winter community. At this point he was drifting through his life. He realized that truth, though he didn't know exactly what to do about it.

Did God have a plan for him? He couldn't say, but Jacob did know right from wrong.

As he stowed the water bottle, he was sure of one thing. He wouldn't be boarding the bus in the morning. He'd go to the bank and wire the bulk of his money home. Then he'd find work. If God was guiding his path, there would be something he could do here in Cody's Creek.

CHAPTER 16

T
he next morning Jacob had no luck finding what he was looking for.

He asked about work at the small grocer and the restaurant. He hung out at the feed store, hoping an Amish farmer would drive up, but the place was dead.

Finally he gave up and walked down to the dry goods store.

Owned by an Amish couple, the woman listened to his situation, nodded in understanding, and called her husband from the back room.

“Joseph, this is Jacob Graber.”

“
Ya
? Pleased to meet you.”

Joseph and Rebecca seemed pleasant enough, but he could tell from the lack of traffic that they did not need help at the moment.

“Where is everyone?” Jacob asked. “If it weren't for the occasional sign for buggy parking and the two of you, I wouldn't know there was an Amish community here.”

“Oh,
ya
. We're here all right.” Rebecca shared an amused smile with her husband.

“Where are you from?” Joseph bent to pick up one of the
grandkinner
who had begun to fuss.

Jacob had noticed several young ones scattered behind the counter. One little boy walked around, tugged on his pants leg, and offered him a small toy horse.

“My folks live in upstate New York.”

“We've been there before. Haven't we, Becca?”

“Sure, when the boys were young.”

Jacob was worried these two were going to trot down memory lane, but to his relief Joseph tapped on the counter and redirected the conversation. “In Oklahoma the communities are a bit more spread out than in the northeast.”

“I heard there was more than one church district in this area.”

“For sure and for certain.” Joseph didn't elaborate.

Jacob removed his hat, wiped at the sweat on his brow, and set the hat back on his head. “I am looking for work. I'm
gut
in the fields, and I have references.”

“No need for that. The reason you're not seeing any families is because everyone is in the fields, which are located outside of town a little ways.”

“
Ya
, this is the slowest week we have all year long.” Rebecca resumed restocking the display near the register. “No one has time to go to town if they can help it.”

“So there's probably work…” Jacob felt the first stirrings of optimism since he had entered the store.

“Could be.” Joseph scratched at his beard, a mixture of white, gray, and brown. “I couldn't say for sure.”

“But surely if everyone is in the fields at once…”

“Storm's predicted for the weekend.” Rebecca finished adding candy to the display. She stood, walked to a peg on the wall, and removed Joseph's hat. “Our bishop, Levi, will know who needs an extra hand.”

“
Gut
idea.” Joseph accepted the hat from his wife and motioned for Jacob to follow him.

For his part, Jacob was in no hurry to see another bishop, but then again he needed work. Besides, there was no avoiding church leadership in an Amish community, not that he intended to do any such thing. He'd done nothing wrong in Yoder, or at least in his opinion he hadn't.

Soon they were at a house virtually overflowing with children. The bishop was on the front porch. He had the full attention of the entire brood as he showed several young ones between the ages of two and
six how to blow bubbles with a wad of gum. The youngsters were trying, without much luck but with a lot of laughter.

One reached forward and tried to pop his grandpa's rather large bubble, but the old man was too quick for him. He looked up and waved as Joseph and Jacob walked toward the house.

Jacob initially wondered why he wasn't helping with the crops. Even when an Amish man didn't have crops of his own, he always lent a hand to his neighbors. Then the bishop reached for a cane with his left hand and stood, leaning heavily on it, and Jacob understood. Though he was younger than Jacob initially thought, probably in his early fifties, he moved with an obviously painful limp. No wonder he was left tending to the children.

If Levi Troyer was a bit handicapped as far as his walking ability, he lacked nothing in arm strength. One of the children had begun to cry, and he easily swung the tike up onto his shoulder.