An Amish Miracle Page 6

  “You can call me Hope.”

  James nodded and followed Stephen from the room.

  Hope remained seated at the kitchen table, lost in wonder and thankfulness. Her tiredness had vanished with the knock on the door. God had answered her prayers. She’d been expecting another pregnancy within the year—one that might turn out to be a boy. But God had something else in mind; He had given her back her only son.

  She had a second chance with her firstborn. And she would do everything in her power to make things right this time.

  Chapter Seven

  Despite his exhaustion, James tossed for hours in the narrow twin bed, wide-awake and restless. Amish. He had been born—of all crazy things—Amish.

  He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Not having electricity. Using a flashlight to find the bathroom in the middle of the night. Driving a horse and buggy instead of a car.

  Well, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting his license in six months.

  He racked his mind for the little he knew—mostly from television and movies—about the Amish. They grew most of their own food, he was pretty sure. Raised chickens, gathered eggs, raised and slaughtered their own beef and pork. Plowed with horses instead of tractors. Made their own clothes. Pumped water into the house with windmills or gas generators.

  Would he be learning to farm now that his schooling was finished, or maybe training to be a carpenter, or roofer, or woodworker? Surely they had no need of computer geeks in their short list of job opportunities. No computers or video games or Xboxes. No e-mail or Facebook or Twitter. No DVDs or music downloads or web browsing.

  Would he have to give all that up if they asked him to stay?

  Would he go back to reading paper books instead of his e-reader, looking up numbers in phone books, and writing letters on stationery like during the colonial days? Surely the Amish used telephones, but come to think of it, he didn’t see one on the table or sitting in a charger, or even hanging on the wall with one of those old-fashioned hand cranks.

  “Good grief,” James said aloud in the dark room. He laughed at his own foolishness. Nobody was inviting him to move down on the farm. No matter what circumstances had forced Hope to give him up, he was fifteen, not five. He didn’t need a mommy to wipe his nose or bandage his cuts and scrapes.

  And even if he did stick around, he didn’t have to turn Amish just because the Bowmans were. He could keep his jeans and T-shirts, along with his laptop. There had to be somewhere he could charge it.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to turn off the what-ifs and how-comes that crowded his brain. Yet he couldn’t shake the image of the group of Amish girls he’d seen in the Lancaster City bus station. In their pink and green and blue dresses with little white caps, they reminded him of dolls on a toy store shelf. Would his new sisters look like that?

  And what would they think of him?

  He’d probably better watch his language and stay on his best behavior. In foster care he had learned a lot about getting by, but he sensed that sarcasm and attitude probably wouldn’t fly among the Amish.

  In the system you had to be tough—or at least talk tough and act tough. It was survival of the fittest: eat or be eaten; the best defense is a good offense. He’d heard it all, seen it all, and one thing was true: you had to do unto others before they did unto you.

  And so James Webb had spent a lifetime maintaining distance from boys his own age. Once you let down your guard, the stash of cash in your sock drawer disappeared. If you let someone in on your secrets, they would soon find a way to use that information to their own advantage. And the girls were no better. They would lie, steal, or bat their eyelashes to get their way.

  James turned over and punched his pillow. He shouldn’t have made that crack about not being part of Hope’s master plan. Despite what she should or shouldn’t have done, he’d found no pleasure in hurting her feelings. After all, he knew all about being broke. Judging by the amount of money in his pocket, he couldn’t support himself, let alone a tiny baby. Better to accomplish what he came for, then go back to the real world and leave these pioneers alone.

  He didn’t need to understand them. And he sure didn’t have to become one of them. The past could not be changed. And his future didn’t include suspenders, straw hats, or planting corn for a living.

  Still, one question refused to let him rest: was this why he’d never fit in with guys his own age—because in his blood, he was Amish?

  When boys picked teams on the playground for softball or basketball, he would always head in the other direction. He’d rather see what bugs lurked under rocks than whack at some ball until he was breathless and sweaty.

  Even now when his foster siblings glued themselves to college or pro sports on TV, he only pretended to be interested. He forced himself to learn the terminology of baseball, basketball, and football to prevent shouting out something ignorant at the wrong moment. But records, standings, and point spreads left him bored to tears.

  “You’re a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, James Webb.”

  The words of his social worker, not spoken unkindly, rang in his ears until he finally drifted off to sleep. Then visions of riding a huge horse down a pitch-dark road in the middle of the night haunted his dreams until a loud bird jarred him awake. A rooster—just like in the movies. But James fell instantly back to sleep, cock-a-doodle-do or no.

  Later he washed up in the second-floor bathroom and dressed in a clean shirt but the same pair of jeans. At least he didn’t need to bathe in an icy creek behind the house. When he exited the bathroom, he nearly knocked over a little girl. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Did I take too long in there?”

  “Nope,” she replied. “I went downstairs. My name is Emily.” With long lashes and a face spattered with freckles, she was awfully cute.

  “Pleased to meet you. I’m James.” He leaned against the door frame since she was blocking his path.

  “I know. Mamm said you’re our bruder, but we didn’t know you ’cause people took you away and gave you to Englischers and we couldn’t get you back.” Her grin stretched from one ear to the other while she kept her hands clasped behind her back. “We don’t have no bruders.”

  “If bruder means brother, I guess you do now, at least for the next few days.” He couldn’t keep from grinning too.

  “It does. Mamm says we should talk only English, but I sometimes forget. You’re not very tall for fifteen. Maybe that’s because Mamm’s not very tall.”

  “Maybe so. I’m surprised you heard the story already. I just showed up last night.”

  Emily wrinkled her nose. “We’ve been up for hours. Mamm had time to tell us three times while we were waiting for you to wake up. We finally gave up and went out to do chores. I rushed through mine to come stand watch. Josie said sooner or later you would have to go to the bathroom.” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “Josie was right.”

  James grinned. “Smart girl, that Josie.”

  “Dad says that all the time. You’re not going back to bed, are you? Will you come downstairs now?”

  James tried not to laugh at her enthusiasm. “Sure, why not?”

  Emily marched to the open window at the end of the hallway. “Josie, Greta—he finally woke up!” she yelled through the screen.

  Downstairs in the kitchen, Hope was washing vegetables at the sink. She turned off the faucets when James and Emily walked in. Hope addressed the little squirt first. “I could hear you hollering for your sisters down here. Folks probably heard you in Mount Joy. Next time I prefer you walk outside to inform them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Emily slumped onto a chair and folded her hands.

  “Sorry, Hope,” he said. “I’m late for breakfast.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry about it. We figured you were tired from traveling and needed rest.” She nodded toward a chair. “I’ve kept your breakfast warm.”

  “Thanks.” He sat down next to Emily.

  Emily pointed at the op
posite rows of chairs. “That’s the boys’ side of the table now that there are two of you!”

  “It’s okay, daughter. Let him sit where he likes for today.”

  “Nope, rules are rules.” James walked around to sit across from his sister. Before Hope could carry the platter of food to the table, two girls came through the door. The taller one smiled and took the seat next to Emily, while a tiny puffball of energy raced toward him. She talked a mile a minute, yet he couldn’t understand a single word she said.

  Hope said something in Deutsch, which stopped the child from climbing into his lap. She reluctantly returned to the girls’ side.

  “This is Greta,” Hope said. “She’s only four, so she knows no English yet, but that won’t stop her from talking your leg off.”

  “Just say ya every so often and nod your head,” added Emily. “Greta will be happy.”

  “And this is our eldest, Josie.” Hope placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “She’s three years younger than you.”

  James nodded at the thin, dark-haired girl. She had luminous brown eyes, but her complexion had turned bright red from her mother’s attention. “How ya doing?” he asked. “Actually, I’m almost sixteen, but close enough.”

  “Welcome,” murmured Josie while focused on her hands.

  Hope shoved the platter directly in front of him. “Go ahead and eat. You must be famished.”

  “We ate hours ago.” Emily passed the salt, pepper, and butter across the table.

  James suddenly realized the entire plate was for him. “All this? I’ve never seen so much breakfast.”

  Hope smiled. “I didn’t know what you would like, so I cooked bacon, eggs, sausage, and pancakes. Emily, fetch James another plate so he can take what he wants.”

  Emily scrambled to the cupboard. “I made the toast,” she said, handing him a plate. “But you took so long it got cold and Mamm had to reheat it.”

  “Enough about that; let the boy eat.” Hope slipped into a chair next to Greta.

  “It looks great. I’ll try some of everything.” After scraping food onto his plate, James couldn’t swallow a single bite. With four pairs of eyes watching, he felt like a specimen under a microscope.

  Hope winked at him. “Okay, girls. You’ve met your brother and have certainly seen people eat before. Go wait on the porch, then you can give him the official tour of the Bowman farm.”

  The three girls stood, but Josie remained rooted to the floor. “By ourselves? Aren’t you coming with us?”

  “You’ll be fine; you won’t get lost.” Hope patted her back. “I need to bathe Faith. Her diaper probably needs changing by now.”

  Josie exited the kitchen behind her sisters. Hope waited until the door closed behind them to explain. “She’s a bit shy until she gets to know you.”

  “I know all about shyness. I’ll do my best to put her at ease.”

  James concentrated on finishing every morsel of his breakfast quickly so as not to keep them waiting long. For reasons he didn’t understand, he really wanted his sisters to like him.

  Hope stood at the window watching four of her five children until they entered the barn. Josie stayed at James’s side but a full yard away; Emily walked backward in front of him, talking endlessly. At some point during the tour she was bound to trip and land on her backside. Greta circled around the group like a hummingbird.

  Once they disappeared from view, Hope realized she was shaking like a leaf. Her son was back—her little boy.

  Unbelievably, she’d planned to name the baby Jamie if she’d kept him. His adoptive parents had somehow read her mind. Except they hadn’t adopted him after all. They had returned him to the center like defective merchandise. He hadn’t fit their plans because of a medical condition.

  Yet how could she judge them harshly? He hadn’t fit the plans of Silas Klobentz either. Her poor little boy had spent a lifetime moving from house to house, never quite part of any family.

  But he is home now. “Thank You, Lord. I will prove myself worthy of this second chance.”

  Stephen led the troop of kinner into the haus at lunchtime. Hope was ready with Faith sleeping in her wind-up swing, her house tidy, and fixings for sandwiches on the table. She had baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies and opened a bag of potato chips she’d been saving.

  “I would have been in sooner, but they roped me into joining the tour.” Stephen winked and hung his hat on a peg near the door.

  James hooked his Phillies ball cap on a peg too. “Man, I can’t believe how much land you own,” he said. “And horses and chickens and pigs and all those cows.”

  “That’s because this is a dairy farm. You gotta have cows.” Emily grabbed James’s sleeve. “Come, we must wash up or we won’t be allowed to eat.” She dragged the boy toward the bathroom.

  “No, young lady. A man needs privacy from little girls.” Stephen caught Emily by the arm. “You wash at the kitchen sink with your sisters.”

  Five minutes later all were clean and seated. James’s enthusiasm hadn’t flagged one ounce. “You have acres of hay and corn and grazing pasture, plus three barns—four, if you count the chicken house.” He grabbed two slices of bread and speared several pieces of ham.

  “It’s called a coop,” corrected Emily. “And we can’t eat till we pray.”

  “Sorry,” he murmured, dropping his fork. Following suit, he immediately bowed his head. After a few moments, he opened one eye and peered around, blushing. “Isn’t somebody gonna say grace?”

  Stephen raised his hand to silence Emily. “Prayers are usually silent among the Amish. We thank God quietly for His gifts.”

  “Okay.” James lowered his head again, then resumed spearing ham. “You’ve got quite a handy milking setup, using diesel-powered generators. Sure beats sitting on a three-legged stool milking by hand.” He mimed the action of pulling on cow udders.

  “Truly, it does.” Stephen suppressed a laugh while Greta and Emily giggled. Greta duplicated his mimicry. “But our farm is by no means large in the English world. Farms in Lancaster County get broken up to create new homesteads for newlyweds.”

  “Well, it’s a beauty in my book.” James waited until everyone prepared a sandwich before taking a bite. He took a handful of chips and passed the bag to Josie.

  Josie accepted the bag, her cheeks a deep crimson. “What book are you talking about?”

  He thought for a moment. “Not a real book. It’s just an expression like ‘ducks in a row,’ or ‘run it up the flagpole,’ or ‘call the shots.’ It means ‘in my opinion.’”

  Josie looked to her mamm. “We’re just glad you like it here,” Hope said.

  “After lunch, we’re taking James to the pond where Daed goes fishing and we ice skate.” Emily almost levitated off her chair with anticipation. “Then down to the creek to where the tadpoles live.”

  “Fine, but don’t neglect your chores.” Stephen locked eyes with his middle daughter.

  “Maybe I could help you,” said James to Stephen.

  He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “When the girls come inside to help their mamm, you come find me in the hay field. You can ride along on the baler.”

  “Sounds good.” The boy devoured his sandwich and then fixed another.

  That night after supper, James stayed in the kitchen while the women washed and dried dishes. He appeared to be reading the Amish newspaper, but Hope knew he was listening to the girls’ conversations. When Stephen came into the room for a cup of tea, James folded the paper and leaned back in his chair.

  “Girls, go up to your room so we can talk to your brother,” said Stephen. “He probably has some questions for us.” Hope hung up her towel and sat down across from them.

  James shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve always been curious about my natural mother. After I hacked into the records, I decided spur-of-the-moment to find you. What if I should need a kidney down the road, or part of a liver? Having no medical background can be tough. So, yes, I have a lot
of questions.”

  “I owe you the whole truth,” said Hope softly. “I was raped, and my father sent me to live at an adoption center until you were born. I have long forgiven the man responsible—now I seek only your forgiveness.” She forced herself to look him in the eye.

  “Guess you didn’t have much choice at sixteen.” He met her gaze but glanced away quickly.

  “I can’t change the past, but I can change your future if you want.”

  “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. I’m pretty much past needing somebody to tell me what to do. Thanks just the same.” He rose to his feet and walked toward the sink with a swagger. “I’d better turn in if I gotta get up at the crack of dawn.” He headed upstairs without a backward glance.

  But Hope had heard something in his voice—something small and young and still in desperate need of love.

  Chapter Eight

  James slept soundly that night. Maybe it was all the walking he’d done with his sisters. Or maybe it was the fresh air while riding around on that bizarre piece of farm equipment pulled by two gigantic horses with feet as large as an elephant’s. Or it might have been the security of knowing no one would steal his iPod or laptop while he slept. He hadn’t taken either one out of his duffel bag since he arrived.

  Besides, anybody who didn’t have electricity wasn’t going to have wireless Internet service either. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t think of a single person he wanted to e-mail.

  James showered and dressed in the oldest clothes he’d brought, per Stephen’s instructions. When he left the bathroom, he half expected Emily to be standing guard, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  He rather liked the little squirt. She had followed him around the farm all day yesterday, explaining everything as if he just arrived in an escape pod from an alien planet. And in some ways, he had. Even though he’d lived in at least eight different foster homes, none of them had been farms.

  For instance, he had no idea that you cut hay like mowing the lawn. Then within a few weeks hay grew back, ready to be cut, raked, baled, and stored until needed.