Blessings (8 page)

Trina’s optimism waned as the week progressed with the same duties assigned each day. On Friday, Dr. Groening remained at the clinic all afternoon, and he called Trina to his messy desk in the corner of the reception area at closing time.

“I’ll plan to pay you each Friday, if that works for you.”

“That’s fine.” She was accustomed to Mama paying her once a month, which worked okay since she rarely went to the bigger towns more often than that. Tony went into McPherson frequently, though, sometimes giving rides to their Amish neighbors who didn’t own vehicles. He could take her pay to the bank for her.

Dr. Groening placed a check in her hand. “You’ve done well, Trina. I appreciate your efforts.”

Trina folded the check without looking at it and slipped it in her apron pocket. “Thank you.”

The doctor crossed his arms and peered down his nose at her. “Are you satisfied with the job?”

Trina raised her shoulders in a slow shrug. She didn’t want to complain, but she did want to know when she would finally be doing something besides cleaning up. “I appreciate being able to work here, but I wonder when I might actually get to work
with
the animals.”

Dr. Groening’s gray eyebrows twitched. “With the animals?”

“Yes. Like I did out at Andrew’s with Regen.”

The man stared at her in silence for several seconds, and then he drew back, shaking his head. “Oh, Trina, we have a misunderstanding.”

Trina waited, her heart pounding.

“Without any kind of veterinary training, licensure, or certification, you can’t work with the animals. It’s against the law. I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear on that.”

Trina’s heart sank. “You mean, until I get something from a school that says I have training, I’ll never get to help with the animals?”

“You’ll be able to bathe them and feed and water any boarders I might keep, but doctoring? No, I’m afraid not.” His face and voice reflected sympathy. “If you want to quit, I’ll understand.”

“I’m not quitting.” Trina set her chin in a determined angle. “I want to stay, because I can watch you and learn from you even if I’m just cleaning up after you.”

The doctor smiled, his eyes warm.

“But I won’t always be cleaning up,” she said. “I’m going to get the schooling I need.”

Dr. Groening’s brows rose. “Your parents are letting you—”

“I’m taking classes online.” The moment the words were out, Trina knew she would follow through. Beth had said a person could do nearly everything online these days. Beth had taken a class, and she had offered Trina the use of her computer. If Beth could do it, Trina could do it.

“That’s very admirable,” Dr. Groening said. “I knew you had an interest in animal care, but I had no idea you were working toward a certificate.”

“Well, I am.” Trina felt a small prick of conscience. She hadn’t actually started the work yet, but she knew she would. Her words would prove true. A
beep-beep
from a vehicle horn outside the clinic interrupted. “That must be Tony. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

“Good-bye, Trina. And let me know if I can help you with your studies.”

“Thank you, Dr. Groening. I will.” She ran outside, climbed into Tony’s pickup, and slumped into the seat.

“Rough day?” her brother asked with a smirk. “What was it this time?”

Each evening she’d shared one of her messy cleanup tasks with him. It kept her mind off the hurtful remembrance that Graham hadn’t asked Mama if he could pick her up from work. Instead of answering Tony’s question, she removed the check from her pocket and held it up. “Dr. Groening said he’d pay me every Friday, so could you take this with you when you go to McPherson tomorrow?”

“Sure. Don’t you want to go with me?”

Although normally Trina would jump at the chance to go into the big discount store in McPherson, she shook her head. “No, I have something to do in Sommerfeld.”

“What’s that?”

Trina couldn’t tell Tony about her plan to take college classes online. He’d tell their parents, and she needed to wait until the right time to share it with them. She said, “Nothing you need to worry about. Will you take my check to the bank or not?”

He shrugged. “Sure.” He glanced at her. “How much did he pay you?”

Trina unfolded the check and released a little gasp. It was nearly double what she would have made in a week at the café working for Mama. She held it out to Tony, and he whistled appreciatively.

“That’ll add up quick.” He winked. “I can help you spend it.”

“Oh no,” Trina shot back, giving him a playful punch on the arm. “I can spend it all by myself.” She slipped the check back into her pocket then kept her hand pressed over it. Hadn’t she just been worrying about how she would pay for college? And now God was providing. She knew exactly how she would spend this money.

E
IGHT

S
o the first thing we have to do,” Beth said, her fingers tapping rapidly on the keys of the computer keyboard, “is help you get your GED.” Behind her, the dining-room table held the dirty plates and nearly empty pans from supper. Trina had offered to help clean up, but Beth had laughingly said Trina had done enough cleaning up this week.

Trina propped the heels of her hands on the edge of the huge computer desk that took up an entire wall in Beth’s dining room. She was cautious not to bump any of the machines that stood in a neat line along the desktop. “What is that exactly—a GED?”

Beth rocked back and forth in her leather chair. “It’s short for General Education Development. You didn’t attend high school, so you don’t have a diploma, which is required in order to enter college. The GED is just like having a high school diploma without going to school.”

“How do I get it?”

“You have to take a test to show your knowledge of the general education subjects.”

Trina sucked in a worried breath. Would that include physics? “Can I take the test on the computer?” She peered over Beth’s shoulder at the Web site sponsored by the Kansas Board of Regents.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Beth pointed to the screen. “You have to go to one of the testing sites. It looks like the closest one for you would be Hutchinson.”

Trina cringed. “Hutchinson? But we hardly ever go there.”

Beth continued tapping buttons, leaning close to the screen. “Looks like you’ll need to plan a trip. And you’ll need some sort of identification.” She scowled at Trina briefly. “Do you have a Kansas ID card or a driver’s license?”

Trina drew back. “No. I’ve just worked here in town, so I’ve never needed an ID. And I haven’t learned to drive yet, so I don’t have a license.”

Beth shook her head, her long, blond ponytail swishing back and forth over her shoulders. “Well, you’ll need an accepted form of identification to prove you live in Kansas, so you’d better plan to get one or the other.” She clicked a few more keys, adding, “In addition to the GED, you’ll also need to take the ACT—nearly every college requires the scores from that test, as well.”

“Another test?” Trina yanked a chair from the dining table and flopped into it. “There are so many steps! This is going to take forever!”

Beth swiveled again to look at Trina. Her serious expression held Trina’s attention. “Is it worth it?”

Trina gulped.

“Is it what you’re supposed to do?”

Trina hung her head.

“If so, then don’t see the steps as roadblocks but as stepping-stones to your goal.” Beth touched Trina’s arm. “Anything worth having is worth working for.”

Tears pricked Trina’s eyes. Head still down, she said, “Do you know you’re the only person who is encouraging me instead of telling me I’m doing the wrong thing?”

“Even Andrew?”

Trina sighed. In the past, she and Andrew had been each other’s cheerleaders. She’d always encouraged him to pursue his dream of art despite his family’s misgivings. It hurt that he didn’t reciprocate now. “Livvy’s problems have changed his focus. He thinks I’m foolish to put aside marrying Graham and having children just to. . .” She cringed, remembering the sting of his words. “To take care of sick kittens.”

“Aw, Trina. . .” Beth leaned back and nibbled her lower lip. “Well, it is kind of odd, isn’t it, for someone from your religious group to want to go to college?”

Trina shrugged. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s thought about it, but as far as I know, I’m the only one from Sommerfeld who’s ever tried to follow through.” Wrinkling her nose, she admitted, “They’ll probably kick me out.”

“Out of what?”

Trina released a dramatic sigh. “Out of my family, out of the fellowship, out of
town
.”

Beth started to laugh, and despite herself, Trina joined in. The laughter relieved some of her tension. Little wonder the Bible said laughter was good for the soul.

Beth tipped her head, her expression thoughtful. “Trina, why is your sect so opposed to higher education? What does college hurt?”

Trina shrugged. “Mostly there’s a fear of young people losing their sense of self and their faith if they get caught up in the world out there.” She swung her hand in the direction of the window. “The more things you’re exposed to, the less satisfied you become with simplicity, so by limiting our experiences, we remain content where we are.”

Beth nodded slowly. “I suppose that makes sense. It’s the main reason Sean and I attend the church in Carston rather than joining the fellowship here. We’re Christians, but we’ve lived our lives with stuff.” She gave the computer monitor a pat. “And having sampled all of that, it’s hard to let it go. Besides”—she shrugged—“I believe I can follow God without wearing a certain kind of clothes or doing without the world’s conveniences.”

Trina slid her fingers down the length of her cap’s ribbons. “I understand. And truly, I don’t want to leave the fellowship. I love my faith and how we express it. When I put on my dress and cap, it reminds me where I belong, and there’s a security I wouldn’t trade. I just want to be allowed to follow my heart.” Releasing the ribbons, she wove her fingers together and pressed her hands to her apron. “Do you know in Pennsylvania, some Old Order Mennonite youth have been allowed to attend college? Their bishop approved it because it was training that would benefit the community as a whole.”

“Having a real veterinarian in the community would be good for Sommerfeld,” Beth observed in a thoughtful tone.

“I think so, too.”

“So maybe your bishop will approve it.”

Trina grimaced. “The bishop might, eventually, but my dad? When Dad read about those youth going to college, he was very upset. He said it would lead to trouble.” She shuddered. “He’ll be very upset with me when he finds out what I’m doing.”

Beth sat quietly, looking hard into Trina’s face. “Should you tell your parents what you’re planning before you get too far into it?”

Trina’s chest constricted. “I want it to be a. . .surprise.”

Beth crunched her forehead. “Well, sometimes surprises aren’t all that pleasant. I kept secret where I was and what I was doing when I was learning the art of stained glass in order to surprise my mom, and it turned out to be pretty hurtful before the truth came out. Remember everybody in town thought I was stealing from them because I wouldn’t tell anybody where I really was? Maybe it would be better to tell your mom and dad up front and—”

“No.” The word came out more forcefully than Trina intended. She took a breath to calm her racing heart and spoke in an even tone. “I’ll tell them after I’ve gotten enrolled in a college. If they see how much it means to me, it should make it easier for them to accept.”

“I suppose you know best.” Beth sounded uncertain.

Trina gave an emphatic nod. “Yes, I do.”

“All right, then.” Beth swung around to face the computer, pointing to the screen. “This says there’s a fee to take the test. You can retake it if you don’t pass, but you have to pay again each time. There’s also a practice test.” Beth sent Trina a speculative look. “I think that sounds like a good idea. For your peace of mind, if nothing else.”

Trina squinted at the screen’s small print. “How much does the practice test cost?”

“Twenty-five dollars.”

Trina sat back, thinking about her bank account. “A small price to pay for peace of mind.”

“So. . .” Beth tapped her lips with her finger. “Before you can sign up to take the practice test, you’ve got to be able to identify yourself. Should we download the test booklet for a Kansas driver’s license so you can start studying?”

Trina thought about Graham’s offer to teach her to drive. Would he still be willing? He hadn’t come by to see her since Monday. Maybe asking him would give them some time together to mend their torn relationship. “Yes.” She bobbed her head in one quick nod. “Please do.”

“Tuh–ree–na!” Graham held to the dashboard of the car as it bucked like an untamed colt. “Let out on the clutch!”

Trina’s knee left the seat, and the car died. A whirl of dust from the county road drifted through the open window, and she coughed.

“But not that fast.” Graham wiped his forehead with an already-soggy bandanna. When Trina had called yesterday evening and asked so sweetly if he would teach her to drive, he’d had no idea what he was getting himself into. He hadn’t been opposed to spending time with her—he’d missed her tremendously over the week—but she was aging him fast with her mistakes. He just hoped she wasn’t damaging the car’s gears.

She peeked at him with a contrite expression. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing it on purpose. I just can’t seem to get my feet to work together.”

Looking into her brown eyes, Graham melted. “You’ll get it. It just takes some practice to get the out-and-down right. Remember, out on the clutch, down on the gas. The secret is to let up at the same rate you push down. Try it again.”

Trina thrust her jaw into an adorable stubborn set, pushed down on the clutch, turned the ignition key, and tapped the gas pedal until the engine caught. “Okay, here we go.” And go they did! The car lurched forward.

Trina screeched, “Whoa!” And the car died.

Graham laughed uncontrollably, holding his belly. After several moments, Trina bumped him on the shoulder with the heel of her hand.

“Stop laughing at me!”

He coughed to bring himself under control, but when he looked into her stern face, he erupted again. Her scowl deepened. He held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry. No more. But you said ‘Whoa,’ and the car stopped. Don’t you think that’s funny?”

“No.” Then she giggled, hunching her shoulders. “Well, didn’t you tell me there was horsepower in the engine? It probably recognizes ‘Whoa.’ ”

They laughed together. When the mirth died away, they sat looking across the seat at each other. Graham felt a pressure build in his chest. He would have no difficulty looking into her face for the rest of his life. How he hated the disagreement that had kept them apart this past week.

“Trina, I want—,” he said.

“I’ll never—,” she said at the same time.

He waved his hand. “Go ahead.”

She sighed. “I’ll never learn to drive at this rate.”

Graham grinned, giving the ribbon on her cap a gentle tug. “But the longer it takes, the longer we get to be out here together. That’s a good thing, right?”

Her shy smile made him want to lean across the seat and kiss her lips. But if someone saw them, the consequences would be severe. He threw his car door open and stepped out of the vehicle. They were parked in the middle of the road, but he didn’t expect traffic. He’d deliberately chosen a seldom-used dirt road for her practice. “Come out here.”

With a puzzled look, Trina obeyed, following him to the front of the car.

“Sit on the hood.” he directed. As soon as she was settled, he knelt in front of her and held up the palms of his hands. “Okay, now let’s pretend my hands are the clutch and the gas pedal.”

Trina giggled, crossing her ankles and pressing her heels to the painted black bumper.

He clapped his hands twice then angled his palms outward again. “C’mon. Feet right here.”

She stared at him, her eyes wide. “You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m not. You said you were having trouble getting your feet to work together, so we’ll just practice. Put your feet against my hands.” With another self-conscious giggle, she lifted her feet and placed them gingerly against his palms. He curled his fingers around the soles of her tennis shoes. “Okay, up on the clutch”—he tilted her left foot back—“and down on the gas.” At the same time, he pulled her right toes forward. “See how it feels?” He repeated the motions several times.

Trina scowled with concentration, one fist in the air as if holding onto a steering wheel, the other gripping an imaginary gearshift. Graham swallowed his chuckle. If she only knew how cute she looked. He let her practice until the discomfort of the hard ground biting into his knees made him grimace.

“I gotta get up.” He pushed to his feet, brushed off his trousers, then rubbed his knees, bent forward like an old man.