The Imposter (6 page)

No
, David thought.
That is not our responsibility.
“The church does not belong to us. It belongs to God.”

Freeman narrowed his eyes. “I don't need a reminder.”

“He's the bishop,” Levi said.

David caught sight of someone walking toward the store.
“Is there anything else? I need to get my workday started.” He couldn't resist adding, “You know, to stay afloat.”

Freeman and Levi were not amused. “No one is forcing you to stay in Stoney Ridge, David.”

There. Freeman had landed his punch.

“In the meantime, you're to condense the baptism classes. End of discussion.”

“It's not right.”

“You heard me.”

“You heard him,” Levi said.

“I won't do it.”

Freeman tipped his head toward his brother. “Well, then, Levi will take on your teaching responsibility.”

And
that
, he realized, was what he'd been after all along. David eyed him steadily and spoke two words. “I see.” And he did too. In that moment, he saw Freeman quite well.

A customer came in and Freeman and Levi left. David made small talk with the customer, an English tourist who wanted to stock up on spices while she was sightseeing. After she left, he refilled his coffee cup and held the warm mug between his hands, ruminating on the Glick brothers' newest idea.

Condense the Articles? What kind of future did the church have when no one would even know what it meant to be a church member? Without any appreciation for what their ancestors had done to preserve the faith?

If Freeman and Levi were so quick to dispense with honoring tradition in obvious ways, what might they be dispensing with in less obvious ways?

The day passed slowly with bursts of customers, then long gaps of quiet. A typical day at a store.

Around noon, Bethany Schrock arrived for her shift, Katrina at her side with her arm around her as if she needed shoring and bolstering, and David quickly realized why. Bethany looked sad and sorrowful, her eyes red and swollen.

“Bethany, are you all right?” David asked. She looked
awful
, truly dreadful. Her hair hadn't been combed, her prayer cap was slightly cockeyed, her dress was wrinkled. The sight alarmed him; Bethany was a young woman who took great care in her appearance.

She burst into tears and buried her head in her hands.

He'd seen her only yesterday. What in the world had happened? Flustered, David looked to Katrina for an explanation of what was distressing Bethany. She was a girl with a wide range of emotions, including an explosive temper, but he'd never seen her full of woe. Not like this. “Did someone die? Not her grandmother? Did Vera pass?” As long as David had known Vera Schrock, she constantly warned everyone of her imminent demise.

“Jimmy Fisher is leaving town,” Katrina said. “Peter talked him into joining him out in Colorado.”

“Peter? Our Peter?” David's nephew?

“They think they're cowboys out in the Wild West,” Bethany said, her voice full of tearful scorn. “After all we've been through, Jimmy just ups and leaves.”

Oh no.
Jimmy Fisher had been attending baptism class, urged on by Bethany. Everyone thought he was finally growing up. Finally getting close to making commitments that lasted longer than the end of the week.

Another one, gone. David had to admit, his sermon was
having a cascading effect. He cringed, thinking of the reproach he could expect from Freeman.

David's stomach tightened. How did Jimmy Fisher get his mother's blessing to leave? Edith Fisher had relied on his help with her chicken and egg business, especially after Tobe and Naomi Schrock moved to Kentucky to start their own chicken and egg business. He couldn't imagine that Edith would let Jimmy leave without protest. She was a woman who didn't like the wind to blow unless she told it which way to go.

Things started to piece together in David's mind. Maybe those chickens were why he left. Jimmy hated chickens.

A fresh round of tears started up in Bethany and he quickly found a box of tissues to hand to her. “Maybe he'll be back soon.” He hoped both boys would find what they were looking for—adventure, no doubt—get it out of their system, and come home to Stoney Ridge.

“And maybe he'll love it there and never come back. Maybe he'll meet someone else and marry her and raise a passel of Colorado children.” She grabbed a tissue, gasping between sobs.

Katrina nodded deeply, confirming that Bethany's prediction was entirely justified. “Jimmy gave his horse to Galen King.”

“Lodestar? He gave Lodestar away?” David felt the vice around his stomach tighten another turn. Jimmy Fisher loved that horse of his. He had big plans to use him as a stud and start a horse-breeding business. Plans that never seemed to get off the ground.

“He's never coming back!” Bethany wailed. “There's no men left in Stoney Ridge! Only toothless old men and bald babies.”

David let that implied criticism pass. When Katrina said she had to get back to Thelma's, he encouraged Bethany to go with her, but she insisted she wanted to stay and work, to keep busy. He went to his desk in the storeroom to finish up some orders. Out in the shop front, there alternated long jags of crying and long stretches of silence. Mixed in between were big, sad sighs.

This workday was a lost cause.

It took some doing, but David finally convinced Bethany to go home, that it was a slow day and there weren't enough customers to keep the store open—which was partially true. A little before three o'clock, he couldn't take it anymore. He closed the store, and walked to school to meet his daughters. He wanted to hear about the first day of school while it was fresh on their minds. Nearly halfway there, he regretted that he hadn't driven the buggy today. The strong north wind that had come in to blow away lingering clouds from last night was now surrounding him at every turn, slamming against him. He barely snatched his hat before it went sailing, and he walked the rest of the way with one hand firmly on its brim.

A metaphor, he realized, for this was how he felt as a minister in Stoney Ridge—pushing against a strong but invisible force. Maybe he
should
consider returning to Ohio. Certainly, he wasn't doing much good here. Maybe his children had enough time away to heal by now. Maybe the fact that Katrina's ex-boyfriend was getting married was a sign—it was time to go home.

As he turned onto the road that led to the schoolhouse, he saw that the playground had already emptied out. Only Birdy was left, standing on the porch in nearly the same spot she had been this morning, her eyes fixed on the sky.

“Isn't it amazing?” she said, pointing to a hawk riding the wind. “That majestic creature is playing. The wind is his friend.”

David laughed. “After trying to walk straight into the wind to get here, it's no friend of mine.” He looked to the hawk flying low on the horizon. The hawk aimed his head toward the sun and thrust his body upward. When he reached an invisible peak, he adjusted his angle, succumbed to the force of the wind, and gently glided left, then right, down, and up again.

“It's such a vivid picture of the Christian life.”

“The same thought had just occurred to me,” David said, more to himself than to Birdy. “The wind is constantly pushing us backwards, making life more difficult.”

Eyes on the bird, Birdy shook her head slowly. “I meant, the hawk. About not fighting the wind, but embracing it. Recognizing it as God's presence, engulfing us.”

David turned toward her, surprised at the parallel she had drawn. Surprised by the depth of her thoughts. When she realized he was staring at her, she became awkward and ill at ease, backing up toward the schoolhouse door until she bumped into it. “I have a few things to finish up before I go home.”

“Birdy, hold on.”

She spun around and looked at him. She had brown eyes. Warm like coffee. Funny, he'd never really noticed those eyes before. They were the same dark color as Freeman's, David realized, having just seen him earlier today, yet Birdy's eyes were soft and sweet. Frankly, despite her substantial height, everything about her was soft and sweet. It was hard to believe she was related to Freeman and Levi. “How did the day go?”

Birdy thought for a moment, then grinned. “Let's just say there's room for improvement.”

On the way back to the store, David realized how tense he had felt as he'd walked to the schoolhouse, how tightly he had been clenching his muscles. Fighting the wind. He deliberately tried to loosen his body by moving his neck and arms about.

Instead of perceiving the force of the rushing wind as an enemy, he began to imagine it as the presence of the Holy Spirit enveloping him. And if that were true, then it was a reminder that God was with him, in this and around this. He had been fighting so hard, ready to give up, exhausted by the fight, because he assumed he was alone. He wasn't. And he wouldn't give up on this little church. Not now. Not yet.

Something incredible happened. He suddenly became relaxed. His soul settled, as if it had found its still point. He found peace.

A great spiritual lesson about submission, he realized, had been given to him today, through two unlikely sources: Birdy Glick and a bird.

For the third day in a row, Jesse had missed breakfast. The household was well into its day as he opened cupboard doors, trying to remember which one held cereal boxes. His father came down the stairs two at a time and went straight toward the door. Catching sight of him, his father backtracked and stuck his head in the kitchen. “Morning, son,” he said pleasantly, “what's left of it.”

Jesse lifted the cereal box. “Care to join me?”

“No, I need to get to the store. A delivery is due in by ten. And you don't have time for a leisurely breakfast, either. Hank Lapp is expecting you.”

What?
So his father had been serious about this buggy repairman notion?

His father studied him in a way he knew all too well. “It's time to put that head and body of yours to work.”

“I see.” He wished he did. “Dad, I've been thinking it over. I don't think I'm really suited for buggy work.”

“Son, you seem to think you're not suited for most employment.”

That was a fair statement, one that Jesse agreed with. The problem was that boredom set in so quickly in a routine job, and his mind left for greener pastures. “It doesn't seem fair to Hank Lapp to have an apprentice who doesn't want to learn how to repair buggies.”

His father waved away that concern as he opened the door. “Just remember . . . inspiration follows perspiration.” He stuck his head back around the kitchen doorframe. “Hank was expecting you at Windmill Farm two hours ago.”

Hank Lapp. Jesse wasn't quite sure about that wild-eyed fellow, who always seemed slightly off-kilter.

For now, another bowl of cereal would definitely lift his spirits and mask the fact that he had a very real problem to face. Employment.