The Search (5 page)

Simon’s eyes opened wide, full of mockery, as he looked Bess over. “Another holy howler.” He looked at her long and hard with cold blue eyes.

She’d never seen eyes so cold. There was a touch of meanness in his thin smile. Bess felt a bead of sweat run down the valley between her shoulder blades.

Mammi was watching her. “Bess, en rauher Glotz nemmt’n rauher Keidel.”
A rough log requires a rough wedge.
“Never forget that.”

How could Bess remember it when she couldn’t even understand it? Bess looked at her, confused, but Mammi had turned her attention back to her brother.

“Simon, you never did know beans from honey,” Mammi said. “If you could put two and two together, you’d figure out by now that Bess is a relation.”

“So?” Simon asked.

“So mebbe she’d be willing to get a blood test and see if she can help you out. Mebbe her bone marrow could be a match for you.”

Bess’s eyes went wide as quarters.

“If she’s willing, that is,” Mammi repeated, avoiding Bess’s eyes.

The ride home on the bus was a silent one.

Mammi had been told by the nurse that since Bess was underage, the hospital required a parent’s consent before her blood could be tested. Mammi hadn’t expected that, Bess could tell. But Bess was thoroughly relieved. It wasn’t easy to say no to Mammi, and yet she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to have her blood tested. The blood test was pretty simple, she knew that, but what if she were a match? Giving blood was one thing. Bone marrow was entirely different. She wasn’t even sure what that meant and didn’t want to ask. Her only experience with bone marrow was to cook up a pot of soup and simmer the bones for a good long while. Besides, even if Simon was her great uncle, he was not a nice man. He was downright mean-hearted. Maybe it all worked out just fine, Bess decided happily. Since she was only fifteen and her father was in Ohio—with no intention to come to Pennsylvania—there was no possible way she could have a blood test. Bess looked out the window and smiled. Things had a way of working out.

“Bess,” Mammi asked, one sparse eyebrow raised, “have you ever driven a car?”

Bess shook her head. “Just a tractor.”

Mammi gave up a rare smile. “Same thing. When we get back to Stoney Ridge, we got us another errand to do.”

Lainey O’Toole reread the letter she had written to her friends one more time before licking the envelope and sealing it shut. She had written and rewritten this letter during her break today until it sounded just right.

Dear Robin and Ally,

A moment of silence, please, for the passing of my Beetle. It sputtered to a stop in a little town called Stoney Ridge, but it didn’t die in vain. It took its final breath in front of a bakery called The Sweet Tooth just as the owner put out a help wanted sign. I kid you not! One thing led to another and . . . well, instead of hunting for a temporary job in upstate New York, circumstances dictate that I am going to spend the summer here. But do not worry! It is just a short-term turn of events.

Love you tons and miss you more,

Lainey

P.S. Did I ever mention that my mother and I had lived in Stoney Ridge until I turned ten?

Satisfied, Lainey dropped the envelope into the mailbox before she crossed the street to head to her little rented room.

When the bus dropped Bess and Mammi off in Stoney Ridge, Mammi told her to keep up as she made her way through the streets. Finally, her grandmother found what she was looking for. She made a beeline straight to the sheriff’s car, parked by the hardware store.

Mammi peered in the open window of the sheriff’s car and saw the keys dangling in the ignition. She turned to Bess. “Come on, big talker. Show me what you know.”

Bess’s jaw dropped open. “Mammi, you don’t mean . . .”

“I do.” Mammi got into the passenger seat. “Sheriff won’t mind a bit. We’re good friends. I’ve known that boy since he was in diapers.”

“Still . . .” Her father was forever warning her to avoid stepping into moral mud puddles, and here she was jumping headfirst into one of his mother’s own making!

Mammi reached over and pushed open the driver’s side door. Cautiously, Bess slipped in.

She glanced at her grandmother with a worried look. “Seems like there are rules . . .”

Mammi turned to give Bess one of her surprised looks. “Es is en schlechdi Ruhl as net zqwee Wege schafft.”
It’s a bad rule that doesn’t work both ways.
“Never forget that.” She looked straight ahead. “Let’s go.”

Bess sighed and prayed God would understand. She turned the ignition and the car roared to life. She opened her mouth to try once more to talk her grandmother out of this notion, but Mammi only pointed down the road. “That way.”

As if Bess was driving a car made of eggshells, she shifted the gear, took her foot off the brake, and the car lurched forward. This wasn’t at all like driving a tractor in an open field. She was terrified she would hit something or somebody. She drove so slowly that a few shopkeepers came outside and stared at the sight of two Plain women inching a police car down the street.

“That’ll do,” Mammi said after one block. “Park it over there.” She pointed to the curb.

Bess pulled over and shifted the gear to park. The car lurched to a halt and the engine died. She exhaled with relief. She knew she could start the car, but she wasn’t quite sure about stopping it. Her grandmother’s eyes were on the rearview mirror. On her face was another of those rare smiles. Running up the road was the portly sheriff, waving his fists in the air. Mammi opened the door and climbed out of the car, prepared to meet the sheriff head-on. Bess slowly stepped out, wondering how many years a car thief would spend in prison.

The sheriff slowed to a jog and reached them, panting heavily. “Miz Riehl! What the Sam Hill were you thinking?”

“Hello there, Johnny,” Mammi said, friendly as anything. “Have you met my granddaughter?”

Still panting, the sheriff looked Bess up and down without a smile.

Bess stood there, nearly dying of shame.

The sheriff hooked his hands on his hips. “
Why
would you take my police car?”

Mammi looked unusually innocent. “Bess here is visiting from Ohio. She’s driven a tractor before. We just got to wondering—”

We?
Bess wondered.

“—if it seemed like the same thing . . . driving a car or driving a tractor. I don’t know too many folks with cars. So I figured you wouldn’t mind if we borrowed yours.”

“Borrowed the car? Miz Riehl, what you did was to steal a police officer’s car! That’s larceny! I could have you arrested.”

Mammi nodded agreeably. “So be it.” She stretched out her hands so that he could handcuff her.

The sheriff looked down at her fists thrust in front of him, then looked up at her, bewildered. “Miz Riehl, I’m
not
going to throw a widder lady into the pokey.”

“The law is the law,” Mammi said. “But I get one phone call.”

“Miz Riehl, I just don’t want you moving my patrol car.”

“Stealing,” Mammi said. “You called it stealing.”

The sheriff sighed, exasperated. “Seeing as how it was recovered and no harm was done, I’ll just give you a warning this time.” He got in the car, closed the door, and stuck his head out the window, jutting his round chin in Bess’s direction. “I’ve got my eye on you, young lady. You should know I got E.S.P. Extrasensory perception. I see things before they happen.” He glared at her. “I don’t know what kinds of trouble Amish teens get into in Ohio, but you can’t get away with those shenanigans in Stoney Ridge.” He looked disgusted and shook his head. “Hoodwinking a sweet little old lady into taking a joyride. You oughta be ashamed.”

Bess’s eyes went wide with disbelief.
Mammi? A sweet little old lady?

Mammi frowned. Then she marched through town and down the road that led to Rose Hill Farm. Bess hurried to keep up with her, wondering what in the world her grandmother was up to and how she could ever explain this to her father.

3

______

Dear Dad,

Mammi and I are getting along fine, just fine. She seems to be fully recovered from her female surgery. I didn’t realize that pulling a tooth or two would be considered female surgery, but she said it definitely falls under that category. And one thing I’m learning about her, it’s best to just agree.

Did you know Mammi’s rose business is taking over Daadi’s pasture land? Those roses of hers—they’re something else. In full bloom! Lots and lots of rose blossoms. To handpick and hand trim. Each and every day. My hands have been pricked by so many thorns they look like a pin cushion.

Love,

Bess

Jonah was rubbing a final coat of stain on a picnic table ordered by Mrs. Petersheim. She was one of his best customers, and he had promised to deliver the table for a family reunion she had planned this weekend. The humidity was working against him and the stain wasn’t absorbing like it should. He put down the rag and opened the workshop door to let the breeze in. It had been a hot June. Even after thirteen years, he still wasn’t quite used to the extremes of Ohio weather. Hotter in the summer than Pennsylvania and colder in the winter. He stood by the door, looking out over the fields of oats planted by his neighbor. It still ate at him, to not be able to work his fields anymore. He missed farming. Like his father, he had always marked his year by his growing crops. He planted alfalfa on the day after the new moon. Then oats and clover went in. Corn in April, when the sap was rising in the maple trees. The seasons turned like a wheel.

It used to give him great satisfaction to see crops growing in the fields, as if he was part of something bigger. But he didn’t have the physical capability to farm anymore. He had tried to keep up for years now, but it was too much for him. He wasn’t the same man he was before the accident. The doctor warned him he would end up in a wheelchair if he kept asking too much from his back. “Jonah,” the doctor said, “if I were you, I would consider that limp a small price to pay for still being alive.”