Reclaim My Heart (26 page)

CHAPTER TEN

“I
’m sorry I couldn’t
help you.” The man adjusted the flat-brimmed straw hat on his head.

Tyne and Lucas stood at the door of Jacob Yoder’s barn. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the Jacob Yoder they were searching for.

“I appreciate your taking the time to talk to us,” Lucas told him.

Mr. Yoder hooked a thumb behind his black suspender. “Happy to. If you don’t mind my saying, you’ve got your work cut out for you. There are over twenty-five different Amish, Mennonite, and Brethren church groups in this county alone. And all of them probably have a Bishop or two named Yoder.”

Lucas grimaced. “Tell me about it. We’ve spent the whole morning going from farm to farm.” He released a weary exhale. “To farm. Feels like I’m on a wild goose chase.”

“There are over ninety Yoders listed in the phone book,” Tyne said. “And those are only Lancaster addresses. We haven’t even looked in Millersville or Oak Mills or Mountville or East or West Hempfield.” Seems they’d set themselves up to tackle the impossible.

She and Lucas had stopped for lunch after spending hours talking to dozens of people, each and every one offering up suggestions on where to find a Bishop Yoder who had a daughter named Ruth. The list of possibilities was growing long.

Jacob Yoder tugged on his beard. “Many churches don’t allow phones.”

Tyne’s mind reeled at the thought of trying to find Lucas’s mother in what now seemed a sea of black hats and white bonnets.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about the man you’re hoping to find?” Jacob tucked his hands into the pockets of his black trousers. “I really would like to help you.”

That’s one thing that had impressed Tyne; none of the Plain People had turned them away. Not a single person had been unfriendly. Everyone they had approached today had been willing to listen and had tried to help even if it had been in some small way.

Lucas’s posture was loose, his dark eyes glum. “I know that the Bishop Yoder I’m looking for drove a horse and buggy to Wikweko to buy horse liniment. He even tried to buy the recipe so he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone outside his own community. But apparently the recipe wasn’t for sale, so he was forced to do business in Wikweko.”

“Horse liniment,” Jacob murmured.

Lucas nodded, and Tyne watched him hesitate.

Finally, Lucas said, “He brought his daughter along with him. Ruth Yoder had a baby.” His Adam’s apple dipped. “Out of wedlock.”

The Amish man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know anything about a baby. But there was a man who used to sell liniment. Years ago, mind you. South ^?.< from one of Millersville. Near Slackwater. And I believe his name was Yoder.” Jacob shook his head. “I couldn’t say if he had a daughter. But the church down there follows the strictest Ordnung. A system of rules for, um, how to live your life. They’re Old Order down there. That might be the Bishop Yoder you’re looking for.”

Hope had a way of stomping out frustration and fatigue; it also sparked a sizzling anticipation in both Lucas and Tyne. Their gazes met, and they shared a wide smile filled with renewed energy. Lucas pumped Jacob’s hand with hearty appreciation, and after listening to some general directions, they headed back to Lucas’s car.

Over two hours later, Lucas’s hope hadn’t diminished. They were both tired, yes, but they’d finally—
finally
—found someone who actually knew ‘Old Bishop Yoder’ who’d once sold horse liniment and who had a daughter named Ruth. The people of The Old Order Amish were less inclined to associate with outsiders, the men refused to even look at Tyne, so Lucas had had difficulty obtaining the information. However, he’d prevailed by asking his questions politely but persistently—very persistently—and now they actually had a specific address in hand.

Tyne looked out the car window at the lush, green trees flanking the narrow country road.

“You know,” she said, “I’ve been so focused today that I haven’t thought about Zach. I wonder what he’s doing.”

Lucas glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “He’s probably cleaning the fish they caught. Or stacking the firewood he collected.” He grinned. “Or sitting in a hole trying to figure out how to get out.”

“
What?
” She couldn’t tell if he was serious or if he was teasing her. “What are you talking about?”

“Uncle Jasper put me in a hole once.”

Tyne couldn’t believe her ears. “Lucas. Come on. Don’t tease me.”

“I’m serious.” He lifted one hand off the steering wheel. “First, he made me dig the hole. I spent a whole day with a shovel in my hands. ‘Deeper,’ he kept saying. ‘Deeper.’ And he made me go to sleep next to it that night not knowing what the danged thing was for. ‘That is for tomorrow,’ was all he’d tell me before sliding into his sleeping bag.”

Lucas’s smile never faltered. “The next morning he told me to jump down into the hole. Which I did, no questions asked. He told me I could have breakfast as soon as I’d climbed out, and then he walked away.”

She was quiet, her mind taken up with the idea of Zach out in the woods with Jasper…‌maybe standing in a hole he’d been forced to dig.

“Nearly three hours later and I was still standing there. Filthy from trying to scale the walls, frustrated as hell that I couldn’t.”

“Your tone is telling me this is a good memory,” she said, “but for the life of me, I don’t understand.”

He laughed. “Neither did I. And that was precisely the point of why I was in the hole for hours.”

She frowned.

“Little did I know, but my uncle was busy in the night. While I slept, he’d angled the sides of the hole so the opening was smaller than the base. It would have been impossible for me to climb out. It’ll be impossible for Zach to climb out too.”

“Lucas! You are not making me feel any better. Get to the good part, please.”

“I just hope he figures it out quicker than I did,” Lucas continued easily. “You see, many of those camping tasks will emphasize independence. They’re about learning self-reliance. But the hole? The hole is designed to make a man realize there are times when he can’t go it alone. He needs others.”

Tyne nestled into the seat, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “My son’s out in the woods som ctheers.”

He chuckled at her, the sound of it not at all unpleasant.

“Physical exercise is good for him, Tyne.” His voice went soft and serious. “You know it is. Shoveling dirt or carrying wood, it doesn’t matter. He’s out in the sunshine with someone whose only wish is to teach him the things he needs to know to get through life unscathed. Zach will benefit by learning to think for himself. Learning to scope things out, decipher situations, anticipate the consequences of his actions.”

She took in everything he said, her shoulder and arm muscles relaxing. Thinking about the trouble Zach had gotten himself in back in Philly, she had to agree that her son needed some practice on all of those things.

“Oh, wait. Slow down. There it is,” she said, pointing to the road sign they’d been watching for. “Jasmine Way.” She leaned forward a little as he made the turn. “Now to find the house.”

Lucas slowed the car, pulling to a stop on the wide shoulder of the road.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Tension laced the edges of his words.

Her heart ached for him as she took in his ridged jaw and his tight grip on the steering wheel.

“That hole in the ground I told you that Uncle Jasper had me dig…” He paused long enough to swipe the back of his hand across his mouth. “It wasn’t just an opening in the dirt. It was meant to represent predicaments. Life’s difficulties. I spent hours down there, excited and determined. If my uncle told me to climb out, then there most certainly was a way for me to climb out. I just had to find it. But after a while, I was forced to look at the sides—
all the sides
—of the problem.” His eyes narrowed.

“Once again, I’ve focused all my energy on my own excitement. My own determination to solve the problem.” Absently, his thumb worried the leather covering of the steering wheel. “What if she’s not interested in meeting me?” he murmured. “What if she’s never given me a second thought? What if my showing up on her doorstep only causes her grief?”

She heard no self-pity, only matter-of-fact inquiry. Tyne sat motionless. When she did speak, her tone was just as soft as his. “I’m a mother, Lucas, and I can’t imagine that she hasn’t thought of you. That she hasn’t wondered. A person would have to be heartless…” She let the rest of the thought fade. He didn’t seem to be listening to her anyway.

His eyes remained riveted to a spot somewhere on the distant horizon. “What if she married someone, you know, from her own religion? What if her husband knows nothing about me? What if she has other children? And all they know is that their mother is perfect in every way? I could ruin everything for her. I could cause this woman a whole world of—” His mouth thinned and his shoulders dropped a full inch. “That’s what he meant.”

“What? Who?” A car passed by; Tyne gave it little notice.

“Uncle Jasper. He told me not to cause Ruth Yoder harm. I thought he meant I shouldn’t say anything mean to her. Or, you know, blame her.” Doubt shadowed his gaze. “But I realize now he meant so much more. Just by showing up on her doorstep, I could end up hurting her.”

The air conditioner hummed, blowing a cool draft into her face. She reached out and flicked the lever, redirecting the air upward.

“What do you want to do, Lucas?” she asked softly. “Do you want to just let this be? We could turn around and go home.”

That wasn’t the best choice, in her mind. But coercing him wouldn’t be the right thing to do.

“I meant it when I said I’d help you with this. I’ll support you in whatever you dec ctev be the riide to do.” The instant the words left her mouth, heat flushed through her and something profound tugged in the pit of her belly. Her mouth went dry and she was relieved to find him distracted, deep in thought.

“I don’t have to introduce myself,” he said, finally. “I mean, I don’t have to go there and announce my relationship to her. I could just, well—” his gaze lifted to hers “—keep that to myself, right?”

Tyne could see how desperately he wanted to meet his mother. “Of course, you could.” She smiled lightly. “You look like your father, Lucas. No one would ever mistake you for being Amish. I can’t imagine anyone suspecting a thing. We could stop under the guise of asking for directions.” She lifted her hands, palms up. “To Wikweko. That would work. You’ve got relatives there. That’s not even a lie.”

“Directions,” he murmured. “To Wikweko.”

He nodded. The smile he offered reflected immense gratitude, and Tyne felt another tight pull deep in her stomach. She didn’t even try to analyze it—didn’t want to, really—as he steered the car back onto the winding country road.

After several more miles, she said, “There. Could that be the place?”

Lucas slowed the car.

The small, white clapboard house sat back from the road. A sturdy split-rail fence surrounded the tidy yard. A large vegetable garden thrived along the south side of the house, a woman stood among the plants, bent at the waist, pulling weeds. The old man sitting in a wheelchair on the concrete porch had Tyne nodding.

“This has to be it, Lucas.” Her heart thudded an erratic beat against her ribcage.

He pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road, and with slow, deliberate motions, he put the car in park and shut off the engine. They both got out and met at the mailbox at the end of the narrow sidewalk near the front of the car. The woman in the garden straightened, looking at them while reaching to wipe her hands on the white apron tied around her waist. She started toward them, the skirt of her shin-length black dress brushing the thick vegetation.

Tyne stood beside Lucas, waiting for him to take that first step. The Amish woman was halfway to the gate, and still he hadn’t moved. Tyne turned to him. He looked frozen in place. It was difficult to watch such a commanding figure become overwhelmed with apprehension. She slid her hand in his, and the trembling of his chilled fingers had her whispering, “It’s okay, Lucas. This is going to be just fine. Come on.”

She took a step, giving his rigid arm a gentle tug, and he followed.

The three of them met at the gate, and when no one spoke, Tyne asked, “Ruth Yoder?”

Lucas and the woman hadn’t stopped staring at each other. The awe on Ruth Yoder’s face was answer enough, but she nodded. “I am.”

Mother and son stood, face to face, for the first time in thirty-five years, the gate standing between them an uncanny yet solid symbol of the emotions holding them at bay. Tyne’s breath caught as she waited to see if it would swing open wide or remain closed.

Finally, Lucas said, “I’m…‌I’m…” He stopped suddenly and swallowed, emotion glistening in his eyes.

The woman smiled. “I know who you are.”

The strings of her bonnet hung loose, one trailing down her chest, the other draped back over her shoulder. By no means an unattractive woman, Ruth, with her natural glow, looked much younger than the early-to-mid-fifties Tyne had calculated her age to be.

“You look so much like your father. Tall like him too.” The woman spoke softly. She gave Tyne the barest of glances, then asked Lucas, “Your wife?”

He shook his head. “I’m not married. But you have a grandson. Zach is fifteen.”

Ruth’s smile tightened and tears sprang to her hazel eyes. “I wish I could invite you in.” She turned her head as if to look toward the house. Her voice grated as she added, “But that’s impossible.”

The man on the porch called, “Ruth? Who is it?”

The transformation in the woman’s face was painful to see. Her smooth features contracted and her eyes darkened. When he didn’t receive an immediate answer, the old man barked out her name a second time.

Coming to her senses quickly, Tyne offered, “We’re here asking for directions, sir.”

“Just some lost tourists,” Ruth told him. She offered Tyne a grateful smile. “He can’t see. He went blind years ago.” Lifting her gaze to Lucas, she said, “He’s very sick.”