The Letters (33 page)

Delia would have worded it differently. If she had information, then her mind would be at ease. And then she could pray. Information felt like control—but it really wasn’t. Rose had it right. Prayer came first, then the peace. “Why don’t you give me a list of things you and Vera will need for a few days.”

“How long do you think she’ll be in the hospital?”

“I don’t know. Tomorrow will answer a lot of those questions.” Assuming there was a tomorrow for Vera. Brain surgery was risky. “I’ll go now. I’m just going to drop by my house and pick up a few things, then head out to Eagle Hill. I’ll return first thing in the morning.” At the door, she turned to Rose. “Maybe you should call Galen anyway. I think he’d like to hear about all this from you.”

Later, as Delia drove west along I-76, she called her son Will.

“Isn’t it amazing, Mom?” Will said after she had explained all that had happened in the last week.

“What?”

“The circumstances.”

“Yes, your father definitely made this surgery possible for Vera.”

“More than that. You’re a big part of this. What about the fact that you happened to be at that particular Amish inn, and Dad happened to have met Vera. I mean, what are the chances? Seems like it’s all part of a master plan. Like God is orchestrating all of this.”

She hadn’t thought of the last few weeks like that, but as soon as Will said it, something clicked into place for her. It
was
God’s orchestration! She felt it deep in her bones—a feeling of love and well-being washed over her. God was involved in all of this, down to every detail. He loved prickly Vera, he loved strong Rose, he loved her—flaws and all. He probably even loved Charles. Tears welled in her eyes. She had to blink them back.

“It’s kind of you to help them, Mom. A few weeks ago, they were strangers to you.”

“They’ve become friends. Rose, especially.”

“If anybody would have told you, a month ago, that you’d be moving heaven and earth to help an Amish family whom you just met, well, wouldn’t that surprise you?”

She grinned. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You’ve changed. You used to be so determined not to let anyone get close. You’re different now.”

Delia hesitated, not sure how to respond. But Will was right, something had changed her. Or Somebody. This entire experience had affected her, and for the better. Uninvited and unwanted, cancer had barged into her life—as another woman had barged into her marriage—and turned it upside down. Thank God.

“Mom, years ago when I was in Stoney Ridge, living at Windmill Farm—I came away with a belief in God. I’ve let it sort of get crowded out. Gone dormant.”

Crowded out. Dormant. That’s exactly what she had done with God. Kept him there, but pushed off to the side of life. She hadn’t needed God . . . until now. “Me too, Will. It’s time to change that. I don’t think God wants to be a bystander.”

Will laughed. “Amos Lapp told me one time that if you weren’t paying attention to God, then God had a way of getting your attention.”

Wasn’t that the truth? Hadn’t this last month been a wake-up call for Delia? Awful events—yet, she wouldn’t change a thing. If cancer and Charles’s affair were what it took to feel this close to God, to have these kinds of conversations with her son—it was all worth it.

“By the way, if you happen to see that vet who was treating the colt, would you get her phone number for me?” He cleared his throat. “I have a question or two for her . . . about one of my classes.”

She grinned. She
thought
there was a spark between those two! “I’ll see what I can do.”

20

B
reakfast was scorched scrambled eggs, orange juice with frozen lumps that hadn’t dissolved, and undercooked pancakes. There were rumblings of thunder and lightning, which meant the boys had to remain inside until school started.

And that meant that Mim couldn’t concentrate on her book. Luke and Sammy were stomping around their bedroom, which was next to Mim’s. They were like a hurricane, Mim thought. Those two would never stop joshing each other and trying to outdo each other. Finally, downstairs, Bethany had enough of the big thumping sounds. She told them to clean up their rooms and throw their collections out. Usually, Bethany barked commands that nobody obeyed. But she was serious about getting rid of those collections. She complained they were stinking up the whole upstairs and she couldn’t stand them one more minute. Those boys collected all kinds of things—anything useless. Birds’ feathers, pebbles, eggshells, snake skins, the skeleton of something that might be a bat. They were regular packrats.

The boys burst into Mim’s room without a knock. “We
need you to make a sign for us,” Luke announced. Sammy nodded.

“What kind of a sign?”

“We want to sell stuff.”

“That’s ridiculous. No one will buy your useless stuff. It’s junk.”

Luke was insulted. “They might.”

She put down her book. “I’m all for you cleaning out your collections and I’m all for you making money, but you need to find a way to make your things desirable to someone else.”

Sammy brightened. “Like . . . buried treasure?”

She laughed. “Oh sure! Just tell folks you’re selling rare antiques and your junk will sell like that.” She snapped her fingers in the air. She was joking.

The boys looked at each other, then their faces lit up like firecrackers and they vanished back into their bedroom.

“I was joking!” she called out.

Later that night, Mim lit the small oil lamp on her desk. There were definitely moments when she missed flipping a switch and having electric lights, but she couldn’t deny that there was no pleasanter light than the soft glow of an oil lamp. She read once that whale oil gave off the nicest flame, but she didn’t know where a person would buy whale oil.

She couldn’t sleep tonight, not with her mother away in Philadelphia in a hospital with her grandmother. Too many worries bounced through her mind. Tomorrow would be a very big surgery for her grandmother. She might die. Mim hoped she wouldn’t die, but she might. In such important matters, Mim always felt it was best to prepare for the worst.

She uncovered the typewriter and polished her glasses. Then she set to work on answering Mrs. Miracle letters. She found the questions about love to be the trickiest to answer. Love was a mystery. How could she try to explain the shaky-excited feelings she got whenever she was in close proximity to Danny Riehl?

Dear Mrs. Miracle,

My boyfriend cheated on me. Should I cheat on him to teach him a lesson?

Signed,
Angry in Arizona

Dear Angry,

I am sorry to hear that your boyfriend had such bad judgment. But no, you should not cheat on him to teach him a lesson. Two wrongs don’t make a right. However, I do think you should break up with him and find a new boyfriend. A faithful one.

Very truly yours,
Mrs. Miracle

Satisfied, Mim pulled the letter out of the typewriter with a flourish and folded it. She typed the address on the envelope, put the folded letter inside, licked it, stamped it, and set it on her nightside table. Time for the next letter:

Dear Mrs. Miracle,

I would like to know, according to all your experience, if love can overcome everything.

Lonely in Love

Dear Lonely,

If love is true, it will overcome almost everything.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Miracle

Mim stopped and stared at the page. Wasn’t that the answer to her own dilemma? If Danny were her true love, then even if he moved away, that wouldn’t change anything, would it? She smiled. Mrs. Miracle had solved her problem. She took out a blank piece of paper, rolled it into the typewriter, and started typing . . .

Dear Mrs. Miracle,

My mother doesn’t see me. She doesn’t hear what I say. She thinks she does, but she doesn’t. She is busy with my grandmother, my sister, and my brothers. I would welcome your exceedingly wise counsel.

Very truly yours,
Miss Invisible

Mim pulled the paper out of the typewriter and held it up. To see a problem in black and white made it seem less like a conundrum and more like a situation waiting for a solution. Almost like a math formula. Not quite, but almost. No wonder she was so inspired in her new role as Mrs. Miracle.

Rose felt such a shock at the sight of Vera getting wheeled out for surgery that she had to steady herself against the wall. The pre-operative area was a large, busy room. Nurses
and doctors were rushing here and there, machines beeped, worried families gathered in clumps and murmured quietly, gurneys slid by with patients on their way to surgery. One of those gurneys held Vera. Seeing her mother-in-law with head shaved, tubes going everywhere, a big IV bag filled with saline by her side—the sight made Rose’s stomach twist. For Vera’s sake, she tried not to let on how she felt. It was no time to be weak. She squeezed Vera’s hand as she walked alongside the gurney.

The orderly stopped the gurney at the operating door and gave a nod to Rose. “This is as far as you can go. Wish her well.”

Rose leaned over and brushed a tear leaking down Vera’s cheek. “I’ll be praying the entire time and I’ll be here when you get through it.”

Vera squeezed her eyes shut. “Dean’s the lucky one. He’s missed a lot of heartache.”

“He’s missed a lot of joy too.”

Vera opened her eyes. “I wish I could be as strong as you.”

“Why, Vera, you’re the strongest person I know,” Rose said, in a gentle tone. “I couldn’t manage without you. We’ve weathered all kinds of storms together. We’ll get through this one too.”

“Rose, I don’t really think you’re the worst daughter-in-law in the world.”

“I know you don’t.”

A sharp little spark lit Vera’s eyes. “The first one Dean brought home—she was the worst.”

Rose sighed.

As the orderly pushed Vera’s gurney through doors that led to the operating room, Rose decided to try to find a quiet
place, maybe a chapel, to pray. To pray away some troubles that just weren’t willing to leave.

Trust, from Galen, came slowly. When Delia Stoltz asked him if he would like to drive to the hospital with her, he hesitated. His mind raced through all the potential disasters that could occur in his absence with Jimmy Fisher in charge. He knew he kept Jimmy on a short tether—he thought the boy had a talent for horses, but he also knew his tendency toward the lazy when unsupervised. And if Bethany happened by, Jimmy couldn’t keep his mind on the task at hand.

But Galen did see glimmers of maturing in Jimmy. In fact, he was learning so quickly and developing into such a skilled hand that Galen felt a little guilty for holding him back from more responsibility.

Still, leaving Jimmy Fisher in charge of his Thoroughbreds for an entire day? The boy couldn’t even keep track of the one horse he had bought.