The Lesson (33 page)

It was Windmill Farm, though, where he and Jenny wanted to be for the day. Fat chance of that.

Chris stopped at the mailbox on his way to the house. He removed his black felt hat and hooked it on the peg by the door. In the kitchen, he tossed the pile of mail on the countertop and washed up at the kitchen sink. He thought Jenny would be home from the schoolhouse by now. He guessed the big project she was working on had something to do with the Christmas program planned for Thursday. Well, that was one good thing about not having any work. He could attend that program. He could hear Jenny’s recitation. He could see Mary Kate. His spirits brightened considerably with that thought.

He glanced through the mail—all junk. As he tossed it into the wastebasket, he noticed a small postcard addressed to Jenny. His breathing slowed as he recognized his mother’s
handwriting. He felt a swirling undercurrent of fear from what might be coming.

Hey Jenny girl! Can’t wait to see you on Tuesday! Don’t be late, sweet girl! We got lots of catching up to do.

The kitchen clock ticked loud in the silence.

With an overwhelming sense of worry, he ran out the front door and down to the barn, panting by the time he reached Samson’s stall.

Help
me find Jenny,
he prayed.
Keep her safe until
I do.

M.K. looked out the kitchen window and saw a pitch-black horse galloping up the driveway—Samson, with Chris on his back. Something was wrong. She ran outside to meet him as he reached the top of the rise.

“Where’s Jenny?” His face was tight with tension. “Was she at school? Has Fern seen her today?”

“No. I thought she was sick.”

The kitchen door swung open. “What is it, Chris?” Fern asked, wiping her hands on a rag as she came down the porch steps.

Samson danced on his hooves as Chris held tightly to the reins. “Jenny’s missing. She left a note that said Mary Kate needed her at the school early this morning and late tonight—but then I got this postcard in today’s mail.” He hopped off the horse and handed Fern the postcard.

Fern read it and pinned him with a look. “Chris, where exactly is your mother?”

Chris stared at Fern with a combination of surprise and
humiliation. “In Marysville, Ohio. In a drug rehabilitation center.”

That was the most M.K. had ever learned about Chris and Jenny’s mother.

She was momentarily flustered. Even Fern seemed flustered. She couldn’t remember a time when Fern was ever flustered. But it only lasted a moment.

Fern turned to M.K. with a decided look on her face. “Call Rome. He’ll know what to do.”

Thoughts burst in M.K.’s mind and ricocheted around like corn popping in a kettle. Something had happened and she couldn’t tell what. “Rome? Why would he—”

“Do it,” Fern ordered.

Flustered, M.K. picked up the scooter that was leaning against the porch and zoomed down to the phone shanty. Chris followed on Samson. A few minutes later, as she approached the shanty, she heard the phone ringing. M.K. jumped off the scooter and lunged for the receiver. “Hello?”

“M.K., is that you?” It was Rome! Rome’s deep, bass voice.

“I was just going to call you, Rome. We’ve got a terrible dilemma and we need your help!”

“Is your terrible dilemma named Jenny?”

“Yes! How did you—”

“I’ve got your terrible dilemma right here. Jenny’s here, M.K. She’s safe.”

M.K. poked her head out of the shanty and waved at Chris. “She’s there! Jenny’s with them.” His face flooded with relief. She turned back to the phone, astounded. How did Chris and Jenny know Julia and Rome? More importantly, how did she miss that piece of information? Her detective skills were slipping. She blamed the teaching job. Too distracting.

“Ask him how she got there,” Chris said.

M.K. repeated the question to Rome and held the phone out between them so Chris could hear Rome’s answer. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she found herself extremely conscious of being so close to Chris, squeezed together in the small shanty. He was impossibly close now. She could hardly concentrate on what Rome was saying.

“Apparently,” Rome said, “Jenny went to meet her mother just as Grace was getting released from the treatment center. Jenny went into McDonald’s to go to the bathroom and Grace took off with her backpack. Jenny went back to the rehab center and someone there found a phone number for Old Deborah’s. A neighbor picked up the message and called me. I just so happened to have an errand to do in Marysville, so I was able to pick Jenny up.”

M.K. doubted that Rome had an errand in Marysville. He was just thoughtful that way. Always going out of his way for others and never making it seem like it was an inconvenience.

Chris closed his eyes and slumped. He let out a deep sigh of relief. “Can you put Jenny on?”

“Let me ask her.” In the background, they heard Rome ask Jenny if she would come to the phone, then Rome covered the mouthpiece and they could only hear mumbling until he came back on. “She’s not quite ready to talk to you, Chris. She’s shook up. She feels pretty bad. But I’m hoping you’ll come out to get her.”

Fern suddenly appeared at the door of the phone shanty. “Tell Rome we’ll all come. Tell Julia to expect four more for Christmas. Wait—make that eight if Sadie and Gid and the twins want to come.”

“MAKE THAT NINE,” thundered Uncle Hank, appearing behind Fern. “I AM NOT EATING CHRISTMAS DINNER ALONE!” Edith Fisher was still spurning Uncle Hank.

Fern rolled her eyes. “Nine, then. We’ll tell the van driver to move it up a few days and be there tomorrow afternoon. Tell Julia I’ll do the turkey because her turkey ends up as dry as the bottom of a canary cage. Oh . . . and no cranberry sauce from a can. Tell her you can always taste the tin. Tell her I’ve got most of it made already. Including the dressing for the turkey.”

That was true enough. In the kitchen, wherever pies weren’t, were big bowls of bread crumbs and bunches of sage, drying, waiting to be made into dressing.

M.K. turned her attention to report all of this to Rome, but he had overheard and was chuckling into the phone. “Tell Fern that I’m just going to inform Julia that Fern is planning to take over the entire Christmas meal. Then I plan to duck!”

Fern wasn’t finished with her demands. “And tell Julia—”

M.K. handed the phone to Fern. “You tell him.” She eased out of the phone shanty and walked over to Chris, who was untying Samson’s reins from the tree branch. When she looked at him, she was overwhelmed by how little she knew him, really knew him. Who would have ever thought his mother was in a drug rehabilitation center? No wonder he didn’t discuss his parents. How did it happen, getting to know someone? It took time. It took days spent together, weeks, months.

He glanced at her. “Your whole family doesn’t need to go to Ohio.”

“We were going, anyway.” M.K. put a hand on his arm. “It’s just a few days earlier than planned. Chris, you and Jenny . . . you’re important to us. To all of us.”

Their eyes met and held. Suddenly, Amos materialized out of nowhere, interrupting the moment. “What’s going on?”

“AMOS!” Hank shouted from the phone shanty. “You won’t believe the co-ink-a-dinky around here!” He patched together the story of Jenny-gone-missing-and-turning-up-at-Rome-and-Julia’s for Amos, who took in the news with a stunned look. “So Fern’s making plans for all of us to head out to Berlin a little early for Christmas to fetch Jenny.”

Amos stood beside Chris and M.K., speechless.

“Amos, you don’t have to go early,” Chris said. “You don’t have to change any plans. I can get there, fetch Jenny, and get back again by myself.”

Fern stuck her head out of the phone shanty. “Nonsense! We were going anyway. What’s a few days?” Then she popped back to resume her conversation with Rome before Uncle Hank could wrestle the phone from her.

“Really, Amos,” Chris said. “There’s no need—”

Amos raised an eyebrow. “You heard Fern.” He looked at Fern in the phone shanty, chattering away with Rome. “Trying to shift my wife’s plans is like trying to persuade a hurricane to change course.”

Fern popped her head back out of the phone shanty. “M.K., skin on over to Jimmy Fisher’s and tell him we need him to feed the stock for a few days. He needs to mist Chris’s lettuce seedlings three times a day. Three times. Emphasize that for Jimmy. Write it down so he doesn’t forget. He’ll forget if you don’t make it crystal clear. And then go to Sadie’s and see if she wants to come along to Ohio. And then go sweet-talk Alice Smucker into substituting for you tomorrow and Thursday.” She pointed to Chris. “You bring Samson over here by six in the morning. Jimmy can take care of him with the rest of the stock. The van will leave at six in the morning. Don’t be late.” She popped back into the shanty and picked right up with Rome where she left off. Never missed a beat.

“Well, you heard her.” Amos stared at Chris awkwardly until Chris picked up the cue to leave.

Chris hopped on Samson’s back. “Tomorrow at six. I’ll be at Windmill Farm.” He reined Samson around and trotted off.

What had just happened? M.K. was rarely astonished, but she was.

18

A
s Chris nudged Samson forward, a wave of exhaustion rolled over him. He wished he had been able to fend Fern off, to slip off and quietly fetch Jenny from Ohio. But there was both an urgency and a firmness in Fern’s voice as she made plans, and against his better judgment, Chris found himself stepping back and letting her take charge. Worry and fear for Jenny weighed him down like a sack of rocks and it did feel good to share the load.

He felt grateful to Rome Troyer for being the one to rescue Jenny. But now the entire Lapp family knew about his mother. And how long would it be before the entire town of Stoney Ridge knew? He felt a deep shame—what must Mary Kate think of him?

The story of his mother was nothing he could ever share with someone as naïve and innocent as Mary Kate Lapp. He could hardly imagine the look on her face if he tried to describe the mean streak his mother had developed after she started to use drugs. She was a different person. He felt tainted—a feeling he had lived with his entire life. Stained by his mother’s choices.

What kind of a woman would lure her thirteen-year-old daughter hundreds of miles away, only to steal her backpack and leave her stranded? And he couldn’t blame that choice on drugs. His mother was clean, for now. He thought about that postcard—he knew she wanted him to see it. He had no doubt of that. It didn’t surprise him that she had figured out where they were living. She was shrewd like that.

He was tired of carrying the burden of his unpredictable mother all alone. He was suddenly too sad for tears. His sadness took on a sharp, shining edge.

As M.K. rounded the bend toward Jimmy Fisher’s house, she saw him heading to the hatchery with a bucket of feed and called to him. ���Dad wants you to take care of the stock for a few days.” She explained the need for the trip to Ohio, only lightly touching on the part about retrieving Jenny. She was still trying to process the news.

Jimmy howled like a lovesick basset hound. “I knew it. Chris Yoder steals my girl right out from under me.”

As usual, Jimmy made little sense. “What? What are you talking about?”

Jimmy looked bothered. “Just what does Chris mean to you?”

M.K. blinked hard. “Have you been drinking again?”

“Does Chris Yoder make you laugh?” Jimmy asked.

“No,” M.K. said honestly. “But you’re not very funny right now, either.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything to you. I’m going to Ohio with my family for a few days.”

Jimmy shook his head. “The weasel. He’s trying to snake
his way into your family’s hearts. And here I told him my intentions! I thought we were friends!”

“What intentions are you talking about?” M.K. shivered. She had grabbed her coat when she went out to meet Chris at Windmill Farm, but forgot mittens. “Look, the sun is starting to set and I need to get to Sadie’s before it gets too dark.”

He flashed her a brilliant smile. “The intention to make you my missus,” he said softly, cupping her face with his hands. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the mouth. “That’s my heartfelt intent. I’ve already spoken to your father.”