Leah's Choice (25 page)

A car pulled into the driveway—she could hear the tires crunch on the gravel. Her fingers pressed taut against the skirt of her dress, and her stomach seemed to turn over.

“He’s here,” Rachel whispered, her eyes wide and apprehensive.

Please, Lord.
Leah’s throat was so tight that she couldn’t have said the words aloud.
Please let this go well. I long so much for Rachel and Johnny to be brother and sister again
.

The knock came at the door, and they could hear the soft murmur of Lydia’s voice as she opened it. Rachel gasped, and her hand squeezed Leah’s convulsively.

There was the sound of a familiar step, and Johnny appeared in the archway. He stood, hesitant, looking at his sister.

With a strangled sob, Rachel catapulted herself across the room and into his arms. In a moment the two of them were hugging and laughing and crying all at the same time. Leah exchanged a glance with Lydia and followed her into the kitchen.

On the verge of tears herself, Leah sat in the kitchen chair Lydia pulled out for her. She pressed her fingers against her eyes.

Lydia, not speaking, turned the gas on under a teakettle and began rattling cups and saucers, obviously giving her time to calm herself.

By the time Lydia brought the cups to the table, Leah was able to smile at her. “That’s kind of you.”

“I always think a hot cup of tea does wonders for emotional upset.” She poured the brew from a squat brown teapot and then sat down across from Leah.

“I don’t think they’ll be ready for refreshments for a time.” Leah glanced toward the door to the living room.

“I didn’t mean them,” Lydia said. “I meant you. This surely is emotional for you as well.”

“I suppose it is.” She held the cup between her hands. “Seeing them together—well, it feels so right. They were always very close, and for a long time, I couldn’t get used to seeing Rachel without knowing Johnny was around somewhere.”

Lydia nodded, staring down into the contents of her cup. She and her siblings had come to a relationship, she’d said. It must have been a difficult road.

“Everyone’s actions affect so many other people,” Leah went on. “Rachel just hasn’t seemed heart-whole without him. Maybe she’ll be better now.”

“I hope she’s not counting on his coming back.” Lydia traced the rim of her cup with her finger. “It would be a nice dream, but it won’t happen.”

“You think he’s too happy where he is?”

“Happy?” Lydia seemed to look at the word. “I’m not sure that describes it. When you fence-jump, you never entirely leave the past behind. How could you?”

“So you never really fit into the English world.” That was what Johnny had hinted.

Lydia intrigued her, and she’d like to understand the woman better. Lydia apparently loved her work and was probably very good at it, but she didn’t seem entirely to match with the life she’d chosen.

“Something like that.” Lydia smiled, her gaze meeting Leah’s. “I’ve told you that sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off right now if I were still Amish, and I can never really leave that yearning behind. But that’s not the choice I made.”

“You could change.” Leah ventured the words tentatively.

Lydia shook her head. “Some can’t go back because they invest too much in the English world, like John. Others, like me, might long to return, but there’s something they can’t give up. For me, it’s my work.”

Leah nodded. She might not entirely understand what made someone leave, but she could understand why a woman like Lydia couldn’t go back.

She hesitated, wondering if it would be intruding to ask the question in her mind. “Do you think, twenty or thirty years from now, you’ll have regrets?”

“I’ll be alone here in my little house then, you mean. With no family and community to look after me.”

Leah thought about Mamm, surrounded by people who loved and cared for her. That was the old age an Amish woman expected to have. They didn’t worry about being left alone.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said.

“I’m not offended.” Lydia’s smile had a tinge of sadness. “It’s an honest concern. Yes, I think about that. But I’ve made my choice.”

Leah nodded. Each time she met Lydia, the woman gave her something new to think about.

“You know, Leah, if you ever left, it would be for reasons like mine. For the work, not for love.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even think about it, because she was afraid Lydia had verbalized something that might possibly be true.

 

 

 

This
welcome should go a long way toward convincing his mother that he and the children were fitting in here in Pleasant Valley. Daniel smiled, relaxing a little as he saw that Mamm had settled into a folding chair in the shade of the big maple in the Beilers’ backyard.

His mother had arrived on yesterday’s bus from Lancaster County, fresh from helping at the birth of his sister’s new babe, and already the Beiler family had planned a picnic to welcome her.

“I hope your mamm wasn’t too tired from her trip.”

Leah paused next to him, a basketful of rolls in her arm that must be intended for the serving table that was filling up with more food as each family arrived once evening chores were done.

“If she was, seeing her grandchildren has more than made up for it.” He nodded toward his mother. “It seems like she and your mamm are finding plenty of things to say to each other.”

“Ja.” The faintest shadow crossed Leah’s green eyes at the thought.

Perhaps she still worried about the persistence of the matchmakers who were determined to yoke them together. That didn’t seem as annoying to him as it once had.

“It is gut for her to see that we’re fitting in and happy here. She can’t help but worry.”

“That comes with being a parent.” Leah smiled, the shadow vanishing. “My mamm certainly hasn’t stopped yet, no matter how old we are.”

He nodded, looking down at Leah. She’d be that kind of mother, too, he felt sure. You could see that in the care she had for every one of her students.

“When my children were gone—” He paused, his throat tight at the memory. “I don’t know how I’d have gotten through it without my family.”

“They must have been overjoyed when the children came home at last.” She hesitated. “I wonder if—” She stopped, perhaps not wanting to voice the thought.

But he knew what it must be. “They didn’t really understand why I wanted to move afterward. They hated seeing me take the children away from Lancaster County, but once they knew I felt it was the right thing, they supported my decision.”

“It’s hard to let go, for them and for you.” Her understanding was as quick as ever. “But I suppose sometimes it’s needed. You had to get away from the reminders.”

“Getting the children away was the important thing. The older ones, especially. They couldn’t seem to settle down after they came home. I felt as if they were always looking for Ruth. They’re better here.”

Elizabeth raced up to them at that moment, tugging on Leah’s skirt. “Did you see that my grossmutter is here for a visit, Teacher Leah?”

“I know.” Leah smiled at her. “That makes you both happy, doesn’t it?”

The tenderness in Leah’s face when she looked at his daughter touched Daniel’s heart. Elizabeth darted off again, giving him the opportunity to say something that was on his mind.

“She was happier even before my mamm arrived. She told me—about her feelings over Ruth’s dying that way. About feeling guilty over it.”

It was difficult even to say the words, but if he’d learned one thing from this, it was that speaking was better than keeping silent. “She said you wanted her to tell me.”

Her face filled with the concern she felt for his child. “I did my best to reassure her, but I knew she needed to hear it from you as well. I hope you’re not upset that I didn’t tell you about it right away.”

Maybe he had been, just for a moment, but then he’d realized that Leah had done exactly what she’d said she would. “I can’t be, when it’s turned out so well. My little Elizabeth acts as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.”

“That’s wonderful gut. I’m so glad.” Her free hand moved, as if she’d reach out to him, but then it stilled.

Maybe she was too aware of the people who watched them. No one came near to interrupt them, though. They were being given a chance to be together, even in a crowd.

There was one thing more he had to say—had to admit—to Leah.

“I should have seen long before this that something was eating at her. You tried to tell me, but I thought I knew better.”

“Maybe there are times when things are easier seen by an outsider instead of a parent. It won’t help Elizabeth for you to be blaming yourself, you know.”

“I know. But you’re wrong about one thing, Teacher Leah.”

She looked up at him, her gaze puzzled. “I am?”

“Ja.” He touched her hand lightly, and even that small contact seemed to send awareness of her flowing through his body. “You’re not an outsider.”

Her eyes darkened as they met his. Was she as aware of the attraction as he was? His grasp tightened, and her fingers pressed his in response. The noise and activity around them receded, and all he could see was Leah.

He took an abrupt step back, dropping her hand as if it were a hot coal. He’d told himself he should think of remarrying, giving his children a mother. And physical attraction was important, wonderful important, in a woman he might think of courting.

But not if it overpowered his common sense. He’d already made a mistake that had nearly cost him his children. He couldn’t make another.

That would sound foolish if he tried to explain it to anyone—the idea that he didn’t trust feeling too much for a woman he might want to wed. But he couldn’t let his head be ruled by his heart, not in something as important as this was to his family’s happiness.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Leah
shuffled through her reports for the week, double- checking to be sure she had everything. She’d be meeting with Stacie in a few minutes, and she didn’t want to give the woman any reason to criticize her work. Their relationship was difficult enough already, although it had seemed a little better the last time.

She heard a step and glanced up, tensing a little. But it wasn’t Stacie—it was Dr. Brandenmyer, coming down the hallway with his long stride.

He paused when he saw her. “Ms. Beiler, how nice to run into you. Are you here to see John today?”

Her fingers tightened on the sheaf of papers as she shook her head. Why would he think that? Did he know about that private conversation between them the last time she was here?

“I’ll be meeting with Stacie in a few minutes to go over my interview reports.”

She expected him to hurry off, but instead he sat down next to her, his long white coat flapping around his legs. He peered at her over the top of his glasses, his eyes keen.

“How do you feel about the work, now that you’ve been at it for a while? Is it satisfying?”

She considered. “I like talking with the families, and I suppose I’m satisfied when I draw something out that I didn’t expect. But—” She hesitated.

“Go on.” He nodded encouragingly.

She smoothed the papers in her hands, staring down at them. “I just wonder sometimes. Is this really going to help the children?”

“You have one particular family in mind?” His voice was warm and interested, giving her the courage to continue.

“I suppose I do, although naturally I’m concerned for all the affected families. But Naomi Miller—hers was one of the first interviews I did. Two of her three children have Crigler-Najjar disease.” She forced herself to be honest. “She is a friend. And my brother is marrying her husband’s sister, so naturally, that is a personal interest.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said quickly. He reached out, as if he’d pat her hand, and then seemed to reconsider. “Many of us have personal reasons for becoming involved in a particular line of research. My younger sister was a Down’s syndrome child, and she died when she was eight.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Her heart filled with sympathy. So that was what drove him—not just science, but love for a small sister.

He nodded. “I don’t tell that to many people.” He looked a little surprised at himself. “But even though research doesn’t bring about instant results, every small step forward brings us nearer the goal of healthy children.” He waved his hands, and she saw the light of passion in his eyes. “There are so many things that can make a difference. Genetic counseling, early testing, even organ transplants . . . Those solutions are here already, and there are more to come.”

She nodded, moved by his obvious dedication.

“Your brother and his fiancée should come in for genetic counseling, if they’re willing. It may not make a difference in their choices, but at least they’ll know what the risks are.”

That was a positive step, as the doctor said.

“I’ll talk with them about it. Perhaps I can persuade them.”

“You do that. I imagine if anyone can, it’s you.”

She blinked. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you are the teacher. You’re a person who affects many lives. If you urge your people to have genetic counseling or to have their babies tested immediately after birth, they’ll listen to you.”

“I’m not so sure of that.”

“I am.” He touched the forms she held. “Look at the progress you’ve made already. You’re reaching families who would never talk to us. That’s important.” He did pat her hand then. “I’m not saying that to make you feel prideful, as you Amish would say. I’m telling you that because you are doing good, important work that could touch lives in ways you can’t imagine right now.”

“I hope what you say is true.” Perhaps, as the Scripture said, she was planting a seed, even if she wouldn’t be there to see the harvest.