Love Still Stands (11 page)

“Just make sure you wear workout clothes. Long sleeves, long pants, cover up all you
want, but it has to be something you can move in. And plan to stay for the group therapy
session afterwards. That’s the compromise.”

Bethel managed a nod.

Doctor Karen smiled. “Don’t worry—no one has ever died of embarrassment in this room.”

Not yet, anyway.

Chapter 11

L
uke straightened and laid the hammer on top of the wooden shelter he and Thomas had
constructed for the propane tank outside the kitchen. Leah had the windows open and
the smell of cookies baking wafted around him. Much better then the acrid smell of
the sweat that soaked his shirt. So much for fall weather. Clouds scudded across the
sky and the air hung around him thick with humidity. The cool, crisp morning had evolved
into a muggy afternoon. At least with the propane tank hooked up they could pump water
into the kitchen. He could look forward to washing his hands and face in the sink
without carrying in the water to do it.

He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. Building the
enclosure had taken longer than he expected. They had so much to do. Like constructing
the phone shack, building a school, and planting winter rye. At least the wheat was
in. He still needed lumber for the phone shack and they had yet to decide where to
build the school. What was taking Elijah and Bethel so long? One thing at a time,
he reminded himself. Building a community didn’t happen in a day. He eyed his brother-in-law.
Even though Thomas should be at his own farm planting his winter wheat, he looked
the picture of contentment, hammer in one hand, nail in the other. He didn’t seemed
to mind the unseasonably warm weather or the imposition. He never did. Luke appreciated
that. “You ready for something to drink?”

Thomas rocked back on his heels and shrugged. “I wouldn’t say no to a glass of cold
sweet tea.” He sniffed the air, looking like a hunting dog. “Those cookies smell good,
but Emma sent along some sticky buns she made last night. She couldn’t sleep so she
baked instead.”

Luke hadn’t slept much either. He’d lain awake listening to Leah toss and turn. He
tried talking to her, but she feigned sleep. Her breathing didn’t become soft and
regular until well into the night. It would take a lot of sticky buns to sweeten his
mood. “We can take a break if we don’t sit around too long. We still need to get to
the phone shack. And you have things to do on your property.”

“There’s no hurry. Silas’s crew is planting his fields today, and they’ll get to mine
next. As far as the phone shack goes, Benjamin says we can always borrow his neighbor’s
phone. They let him call Micah before the ordination.” Thomas stood and stretched,
his long frame casting a shadow that shaded Luke from the heat of the sun for a few
seconds. “He did say they seemed a little unsure as to whether they wanted the likes
of him in their house.”

“Folks around here are pretty skittish about strangers,” Luke conceded. “Sort of like
us.”

“Anyway, we’ve had the ordination so I don’t know why we need a phone right away.
Except for emergencies.” He gave Luke another sly grin. “Unless you’re homesick and
want to call someone.”

Luke snorted and let that be his response to his friend’s joke. He would see the rest
of his family at Helen and Gabriel’s wedding and for Thanksgiving.

“Besides, we won’t have the lumber until Elijah returns.” Thomas mopped his face with
a faded bandana. “We need the paint and shingles too.”

“The longer this takes, the longer it is before we finish in the fields.”

“Silas and Ben’s boys will get to your fields by the end of the week. Everyone knows
we have some chores to do that affect the whole community. We’ll get them done.”

Thomas was right. Luke gathered up his patience around him, like a well-worn blanket.
“I can’t imagine what’s taking Elijah and Bethel so long. I would’ve gone myself if
I’d known they were going to dillydally around.”

“I doubt Elijah is doing any dillydallying. It’s not his way.” Thomas laid down his
hammer and started toward the back steps. “It is the way with doctors, though. You
do a lot of hurrying up and waiting. They’re called waiting rooms for a reason.”

Thomas would know. Luke read in his somber expression where his mind had gone. To
the months he’d spent in and out of hospital waiting rooms after his first wife had
been diagnosed with cancer. Some wounds never completely healed. “I guess you’re right
about that too.” The endless to-do list in his head didn’t seem to be shrinking. Instead
it lengthened until he felt his head might explode. “It’s worth it if they can do
something to help Bethel.”

“I’m amazed at what doctors can do these days.” Thomas clomped up the steps. “I’ll
see if I can impose on your fraa for that tea.”

“She should’ve brought us some by now.” He stopped. Leah had her hands full. Even
with Rebecca and the twins, who’d made the ride over with Thomas, helping her with
the yard work and the laundry. “I reckon she—”

The sound of horse hooves beating a rhythm on the dirt road made him turn to see the
wagon coming around the bend and heading up the drive toward them. Elijah came at
a good pace. Making up for lost time? Not so smart. If he didn’t slow down, he’d lose
the load of lumber.

The wagon slowed in a cloud of dust and then stopped a few feet from the back porch.

“It’s about time.” Luke strode toward them. “What did the doctor say? Did you get
all the supplies we need?”

Neither Elijah nor Bethel answered. Bethel’s face was red and her kapp askew, wisps
of hair scraggly on her forehead from the windy ride.

Elijah hopped down and marched toward the back of the wagon. Luke started to follow,
then trudged around to Bethel’s side. “Did you learn anything?”

“A lot.” She clutched a large plastic bag with the words
New Hope Discount Store
on the side along with her canvas bag. “Could you help me down?”

He did so. She thrust her crutches under her arms and swung away without looking directly
at him. With a quick hello, she squeezed past Thomas on the porch and disappeared
through the doorway.

“I’ll help unload.” Thomas wheeled around and pounded down the steps.

“Get the tea. Elijah and I have it.”

“You sure?”

“Jah.”

Luke trudged around to the back of the wagon where Elijah struggled to pull two twenty-pound
bags of flour from between stacks of lumber and pallets of shingles and a dozen gallons
of paint. Luke grabbed an enormous bottle of cooking oil and a second of vinegar.
“Is something wrong with Bethel?”

“Nee.”

“Did you get everything we need?”

“And then some.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bethel didn’t tell you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything. Did you hear her talking to me?”

“She didn’t tell you about the sweatpants and the exercise equipment?”

“What?”

Elijah tossed a bag of flour on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, then grabbed
a bag of sugar. “She didn’t tell you about the therapy group? Or the
Englisch
soldier in a wheelchair who called her darling? I’m sorry, not darling, darlin’.”

“What are you talking about?”

Elijah turned his back and marched toward the porch. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

Darlin’?

If something untoward had happened at the rehabilitation clinic, Bethel wouldn’t be
able to have her physical therapy. She needed that therapy. For her own sake, but
also for Leah’s. Luke wanted to groan, but he swallowed the desire. As bishop, he
had to keep Bethel’s best interests and her spiritual well-being first, along with
the best interest of the community. His own needs as her brother-in-law—and those
of his fraa—would come last.

Bethel wanted to go directly to her bedroom. She wanted to close the door and lock
it and then throw herself on the bed and never get up. But she didn’t. She had work
to do. What a morning. As if the experience at the clinic hadn’t been enough. She
would never have told Elijah any of it if she’d known he would get so snippy about
it. The silent condemnation in his face had been apparent when he picked her up and
continued to grow as he agreed to stop at the discount store to buy the sweatpants
and sweatshirt. He carried the items to the register for her after she decided she
didn’t dare take the time to try them on. He even insisted on paying for them. Only
the obvious curiosity of the cashier kept her from arguing with him.

His increasingly angry silence had kept her from relaxing on the ride home. Her shoulders
ached with tension and her head pounded. Or was it her guilty conscience? She hadn’t
done anything to encourage Shawn McCormack. Nothing. She squeezed past empty cardboard
boxes stacked by the back door and wound her way through the kitchen. A pot of northern
beans and ham hock simmered on the stove. The scent mingled with the sweet aroma of
baking peanut butter cookies. A fresh batch of cornbread set on the counter, cooling.

Where
was
Leah? She hadn’t been hanging clothes on the lines behind the house. Bethel moved
toward the door that led to the laundry room. No Leah. Mounds of laundry dotted the
scarred linoleum floor. The smell took her back to her childhood chores. Bleach and
soap. The memories eased the tension between her shoulders.

The propane-run ringer wash machine made a nice
swish, swish
sound as it agitated the clothes back and forth in a white froth. It reminded her
of the days when it had been her job to run the clothes from the soapy water through
the ringer and into the huge tubs of cool rinse water. A simple job that took hours,
what with a family of eight and endless piles of pants, dresses, and shirts. Three
growing boys and three girls could turn laundry day into laundry days. She’d prided
herself on never once getting her fingers caught in that ringer. Her sister Mattie
had once and it hadn’t been pretty.

A slamming screen door and a sharp cry from inside the house startled Bethel from
her reverie. She swung her crutches back through the door and into the kitchen. The
sound of sniffling came from the front room. Someone was in pain. “Leah?”

No answer. She rushed as fast as the unwieldy crutches allowed, nearly plowing into
a couch shoved toward the middle of the living room. Everything remained covered with
drop cloths as they slowly repaired each room in the house, with the front room saved
for last. Thomas knelt before one of the hickory rockers examining Lillie, whose small
hands were clasped to her cheeks. Leah stood nearby, hands on her hips, glaring.

“It’s about time you got back.” At least Leah and Luke agreed on something. “Lillie
has gone and gotten herself smacked in the eye with a rock.”

Lillie’s muffled sniffling told Bethel Leah’s commentary wasn’t helping. She swung
over to Thomas. “Is she all right?”

“I was mowing the front yard and a big rock flew up and hit me right in the eye.”
Lillie sounded justifiably aggrieved. “The whole big yard out there and it had to
smack me in the eye?”

“Accidents happen.” Thomas’s deep, steady voice soothed. “Bethel, can you wrap a chunk
of ice in a washcloth? We need to keep the swelling down. You’re going to have quite
the shiner, little one.”

Bethel started back toward the door, but Leah brushed past her. “I’ll do it. It’ll
take you a week. By the time you get back, the ice will be melted.”

A quick breath didn’t take the sting from Leah’s comment. Sometimes the level of her
sister’s meanness astounded even Bethel, who’d lived with her most of her life. She
swung back around to see Thomas looking up at her. She shook her head. “She’s got
her hands full.”

“Seems like we all do.” Thomas stood, the joints in his knees cracking. “She’s your
sister. Might be a good idea to find out what the problem is.”

“I will.” She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems that it had been a long time
since she tried to talk to Leah about anything other than the many daily tasks that
had to be accomplished. Bethel moved so she could get a better look at Lillie’s injury.
“Can you see all right, Lillie?”

“I could if it would stop watering so much.” Lillie rubbed at her eye with the back
of her plump hand. “I want to finish the yard. If I don’t get back out there Mary
will do it first.”