An Amish Miracle Page 9

  She blocked his exit. “One of my jobs as your foster mother is to teach you manners. And polite people return phone calls. Rudeness will get you nowhere in life. It’s your decision whether or not to see the Bowmans again, but you should call her back.”

  He smirked and rolled his eyes. Polite people? What next—they had to sip tea from tiny cups with raised pinkies? But since Mrs. Hyde seldom asked anything from him, he shrugged. “Fine, I’ll call her on my cell phone.”

  “Right now?”

  “Right now.” He forced a smile.

  “Thanks, James.” She patted his shoulder in a rare demonstration of affection, then handed him a slip of paper.

  He polished off the rest of his snack on the way upstairs. Luckily his roommate wasn’t home from football practice yet. Slinging his backpack onto the bed, James punched in the number from the paper. To his astonishment, someone picked up the other end. He’d expected an answering machine.

  “Hello?” said a woman’s voice.

  “Hope?” he asked ridiculously. Why would she be hanging out at the phone shed?

  “No, this is her neighbor, Donna Miller.”

  “Could you tell her I called, please? She’s been calling me.”

  He was ready to hang up when the voice said, “I’d be happy to, but who are you?”

  What should he say—her son? No, Hope didn’t deserve that distinction as far as he was concerned. “This is James Webb, an acquaintance from a long time ago. Thanks.” With a surge of hostility, he clicked the phone shut.

  James stood in his small bedroom with his fists clenched, breathing hard and sweating. Finally, he picked up his books to return to the kitchen, but before he could reach the doorway, his cell phone rang. James lifted the phone to his ear, yet his mouth refused to form words.

  “James?” asked a familiar voice. “Is that you? It’s Hope Bowman.”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Mrs. Hyde said you’d been phoning a lot, and she made me call you back.” He heard a sharp intake of air and then a pause.

  “Yes, I’ve called and written twice. I wanted you to know we completed the paperwork to become a licensed foster home in this state. We’re just waiting on final inspection. So if you’d like to live with us—for a short time or a long while—it would be allowable.” She sounded weak and whiny—two traits he despised.

  “I get three square meals here, my clothes washed, and nobody fills my head with trash. Why would I want to come live on your farm?”

  “Because you have four sisters here and I am your mom.” Her last words were barely recognizable as Hope’s voice faltered.

  “My mom, really? I don’t think so. If you wanted to be my mother, you never would have sold me to the highest bidder.”

  She gasped. “Who said such a thing? I never sold you. I didn’t receive a dime. And they never told me the adoption didn’t go through.”

  “But your expenses were paid the entire time at the center. So you took a sweet little vacation while preserving your precious reputation among the Amish. I cost your family nothing in medical bills.”

  “I explained that my father left me no other option.”

  “You implied that I’d been taken away from you by Children’s Services because you couldn’t afford to keep me, but I thought you at least tried. I did a little more snooping into my past. According to my records, you came to Harrisburg alone and signed all the papers willingly after I was born. Nobody took me away—you gave me up without blinking an eye.” He heard mewing on the other end as though from a kitten.

  “I’m sorry you got the wrong idea. I did give you away—something I’ve regretted ever since. Please forgive me, James. If I could change the past I would, but I can’t.”

  “Nope, and neither can I. Seems to me you’ve got four Amish kids already, and I’m not Amish. I don’t think milking cows in the summertime will help me get into college. Thanks anyway, Hope. Have a nice life.”

  He snapped the phone shut before she could reply.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stephen Bowman had spent all day spreading manure over harvested fields. He swept off his hat and ran a calloused hand through his hair, then went into the kitchen to wash up.

  Inside the kitchen he found Josie stirring a pot of something at the stove. “Where are your mother and sisters?” he asked.

  “Greta and Emily are in the front room playing. Mamm took baby Faith and the diaper bag and hiked to her special place.” Josie glanced at him over her shoulder. “I made her go. She’s been so sad lately.”

  Stephen sighed. “I know that, dochder, but I don’t know how to help. If you’re gut in here, I’ll hike up there to join her.” He turned toward the door, then caught a whiff of his clothes. “First, maybe I’ll take a quick shower.”

  Ten minutes later Stephen was headed to the high ground with an extra blanket for Faith and Hope’s heavier coat. She seldom dressed warm enough in late fall. And he carried a flashlight and thermos of hot chocolate, courtesy of his eldest daughter. That Josie—always a thoughtful child, now a responsible young woman.

  Dead leaves swirled around his boots as he made his way up the hill with long strides. He found his fraa on her favorite rock, humming and playing with Faith in her lap. She’d taken off the harness used for carrying and bundled the infant warmly. While Hope hummed a hymn, the baby grasped for a rattle just beyond her reach.

  “I thought I would find you here,” he said.

  She peered up, her face streaked and red. “I’ve cried myself out; guess it’s time to come home.”

  “Nein. It’s time for us to talk.” He opened the thermos and filled the lid to the top. “Drink some of this.”

  Hope sipped the hot chocolate and sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about the way James sounded on the phone. Like he hated me, that I had purposely deceived him with the particulars of his birth.” She clutched the cup in both hands. “But I’ve prayed that he finds happiness in life wherever he lives, wherever he goes.”

  “I know you’re upset by his reaction,” Stephen said, “but don’t give up too easily. Praying for the boy is gut, but sometimes action is required. God didn’t pave the way for His early believers in the Bible. Remember the stories of Ezekiel, Ruth, and Moses? He made them fight for what they wanted.”

  Hope stared at him. “Fighting isn’t the Amish way. You know that, Stephen Bowman. We are to surrender our will to God.”

  He paused to collect his thoughts. “I don’t mean take up a sword or even make someone your adversary. But you shouldn’t give up too soon if you believe your desires are just and in the best interests of all.”

  “I truly do believe that.” In her eyes shone a glimmer of hope. “What can I do?”

  “Go talk to that social worker again. Apparently she has great influence on James. Something she said turned him against us. You need to win her to our side.”

  “How on earth could I do that? That woman with her high heels and fancy suit didn’t like that I had brought an infant to her office. She doesn’t think an Amish family has anything to offer an English teenager. After all, we don’t embrace modern conveniences.”

  Stephen slapped his palms down on his knees. Hope’s flare of temper was a step in the right direction. “There’s the woman I know and love! Pour me some of that cocoa. Are you going to hog it all yourself?” As Hope refilled the cup to the brim, he continued, “Now, did Miss Webster actually say those things?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I could . . . read between the lines.”

  “Sounds to me like you got off on the wrong foot with her. It happens sometimes, even when two people aren’t of different cultures. Why should the woman help a thorn in her foot?”

  “You’re right,” Hope said. “Tell me what to do, ehemann. You’re seeing this clearer than I am.”

  “No matter how brusque Miss Webster appeared, I’m sure she has James’s best interests at heart. You need to convince her that our family offers the boy value, that we can somehow help him gr
ow up.”

  Hope tucked the blanket tighter beneath Faith’s chin. The baby had fallen asleep again. “James never wants to set foot in Paradise again.”

  “Then you go to Philadelphia once a month on the bus. And keep writing letters to inquire how his English class is going. Maybe ask if he’s hacked into any interesting places lately.”

  “Databases,” she interjected. “That’s what he called the places he hacks into.”

  “Perfect. Josie would be happy to help write letters. She could include messages from Emily and Greta. I’m sure Emily has stored up plenty of things to say to James.”

  Jumping to her feet, Hope shrugged into her wool coat that was lying on the ground. “Emily colored him a stack of pictures and drew some of our cows. Now I know what to do with them.” She screwed the lid on the thermos and reached for Faith’s carrier. “I need to call Miss Webster today for an appointment. I know how her calendar fills up.” She stared down at Stephen. “Are you planning to sit here all night chewing the fat? I’ve got supper to fix and kinner to bathe. Look at that sky. It’s almost dark. Good thing you brought a flashlight or we’d be picking our way home in the dark.” She was already starting down the path toward the house.

  Stephen grinned and brushed leaves from his trousers. “Thank You, Lord,” he murmured under his breath. His fraa had some of her fight back.

  Hope wiped her palms down her coat for the third time and concentrated on not losing her breakfast. Miss Webster flew down the highway, zipping past trucks left and right. Too fast, Hope thought. At least from the perspective of someone who travels by horse and buggy.

  “You’re sure Mrs. Hyde said today would be a good day to visit?”

  “She said this morning would be perfect,” said the caseworker. “James usually spends a few hours Saturday afternoons with his friends at the mall. They play Wii in the video parlor.” She turned and smiled. “Mrs. Hyde is one hundred percent behind this, so she’ll help the visit go smoothly. I’m glad you made another appointment, Hope. This could be just what the boy needs.” Carolyn patted Hope’s clenched fingers. “Relax. The first time for anything is the hardest.”

  Relax? How could she relax? What would she talk about with her son? Hope had no idea what a Wii was and only a vague idea about video parlors. Would James care that Emily had drawn him pictures all week? Or that Josie had baked him both chocolate chip and snickerdoodle cookies—two dozen of each? Or that Becky Byler asked several times when he would return for a visit?

  She took in a gulp of air and tried to focus. Better concentrate on not throwing up in the car, or James’s caseworker might not be so cooperative in the future.

  Finally, they exited the freeway, went through four lights, and entered a community of two-story houses. All had concrete driveways, closely clipped lawns, and shrubbery in their flower beds. This was where her son lived—his neighborhood. Hope studied the details for clues to James’s foster family.

  “We’re here,” announced Carolyn, turning into the drive of a large, older home. It looked to be the original homestead, owned by the farmer who’d sold his land to a housing developer. That was common in Lancaster County.

  “James lives here?” She gazed up at a rooster weathervane attached to the roof’s eave with a dish contraption clamped to one side of the chimney. “It’s a very nice home,” she murmured.

  “Six bedrooms, four baths, finished attic and basement. The Hydes have seven boys altogether, both natural and foster. Nancy Hyde has a cleaning lady, but the boys do the yard work.”

  “She has a maid?” Hope’s jaw dropped.

  “No, no, just a twice-a-month service to help her keep up.”

  Hope’s apprehension must have registered on her face. “You live in a fine house too, Hope, very comfortable for your family,” Carolyn said. “And believe me, houses and furniture don’t matter a bit to teenaged boys.”

  “Thank you.” Hope breathed deeply, trying to rally the courage she’d shown Stephen. She followed Carolyn up the walkway, clutching her totebag with both hands.

  Mrs. Hyde opened the door before they had a chance to knock. “Welcome, Carolyn, Mrs. Bowman. Come in.” She ushered them into a cozy living room where two small boys sat cross-legged in front of the television, past the kitchen where a candle burned atop the refrigerator, and into a den where a fire blazed in the hearth. “This is my husband’s office. You can visit comfortably in here. I set out a plate of Oreos, and I’ll bring hot chocolate later.” Mrs. Hyde pointed at three chairs flanking the fire.

  “But you have no spark screen. Don’t you fear igniting the carpet?” Hope asked.

  “It’s a natural gas fireplace, which we have regularly inspected. Don’t worry, Mrs. Bowman. We try to keep James and the other boys safe.”

  “Call me Hope. Thank you for letting me come.”

  “Call me Nancy, and you’re more than welcome. I think you’re approaching this correctly by giving him a chance to know you in a familiar environment. This can’t be easy for you—traveling so far, staying overnight in a hotel, plus dealing with our legal system. It’s a confusing maze to me at times, and I’m not Amish.” Nancy Hyde clasped Hope’s hand.

  The gesture nearly brought Hope to tears—not a good way to start the meeting. The social worker had instructed her to keep things unemotional and nonconfrontational. “Thank you again,” she whispered.

  “I’ll stay for the first few minutes since James is only expecting Miss Webster.” Then Mrs. Hyde vanished through the doorway.

  Hope’s heart pounded as they sat down, leaving the chair facing them vacant. Help me, Lord, she silently prayed. I need Your guidance more than ever.

  Within a few minutes, James Webb sauntered into the room wearing a Penn State sweatshirt. When he saw Hope, his eyes went large. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Sit down, James.” Mrs. Hyde pointed at the empty chair. “Since Hope cares about your welfare, she asked Miss Webster if she could see you. The court has approved her request for once-a-month visitation, here in your home.” Nancy smiled, nodding amicably at all three. “Miss Webster agreed to combine this with her regular assessment. Why don’t I bring in some hot cocoa? I hope everybody likes mini-marshmallows.” She closed the door on Hope’s only means of escape.

  James looked trapped too. “I thought I made myself clear on the phone. I don’t intend to turn Amish,” he said.

  Hope cleared her throat. “I understand, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Then suppose you tell me why you traveled halfway across the state.” His words lost a bit of their bite.

  “I came because you’re important to me, and I’m interested in your life. And Josie wanted me to ask you about Wii. She heard some kids talking about it at McDonald’s and couldn’t make heads or tails of what they were saying.” Hope took a breath and rushed on. “Emily and Greta miss you. As does Stephen. As for me, I’m curious how your grades were in English since midterm reports. Did that tutor they assigned help at all?”

  Nancy Hyde bustled back into the room. She carried a tray of mugs and a carafe she must have kept on a warmer. “This should hit the spot on a day like today. If it gets much colder the rain will turn to snow.” She left the room wearing the same pleasant smile.

  James stared at the plate of sandwich cookies with a grim face, then reached for one. With his mouth full of Oreo, he finally answered Hope’s question. “I got a C+ on my last essay and a B on the grammar quiz. So I guess the tutor is helping.” He jammed another cookie into his mouth.

  With a shaky hand Hope picked up the carafe and filled three mugs. “I’m glad it’s working. Josie is learning the difference between theme and topic of a paragraph. I’m afraid I can’t help her, but Becky Byler said she would sit down with her tomorrow. Oh, by the way, Becky said to tell you hi when I saw you again.” She passed around the mugs and then blew gingerly across the surface of hers.

  “Tell her I said hey right back.” James gulped his drink and yow
led, “Wow, that’s hot!”

  Everyone laughed, including James, as ice in the air began to melt. “Did you really stay overnight yesterday? Where’s Faith? What if she gets hungry?”

  “She is with my friend Rosa in the motel room. Carolyn will take me back before her next feeding. Faith will be fine.” Hope sipped her drink.

  Wiping his mouth on a napkin, James trained his eyes on Hope. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to see me. I want to know exactly why.” The hard edge returned to his voice.

  Hope set her mug on the table. “I know you’re happy being English, and I know you can never forgive me for abandoning you after you were born. But now that you have found us, we can’t help but want to stay in touch. Emily colored you another batch of pictures.” She withdrew a packet from her totebag and laid it on Mr. Hyde’s desk. “And Josie baked you four dozen cookies. I told her that was too many, but she said you could share with the others. Plus, Stephen wanted you to know our mare had a little filly last week. That’s what he’d been hoping for.” Hope clamped her mouth shut or she would ramble for the entire hour.

  Tick-tock. For a long moment the mantel clock produced the only sound in the room. “What kind of cookies?” he asked.

  “Walnut chocolate chip and snickerdoodles.”

  James nodded. “Good choice. Tell Josie thanks.” He picked up the envelope and withdrew the top piece of artwork. “Say, this looks better than the ones you sent with your letter. Tell Emily good job.”

  Hope leaned forward. “That one is her favorite.”

  Tick-tock. Miss Webster shifted in her chair but remained silent.

  “Okay, Hope, you can visit me, but next time bring Faith. What if she wakes up crying? I won’t have her getting hungry on my account. Might be nice seeing the little squirt anyway.”

  “Josie and Emily want to come too. I’m afraid if I say no, they might sneak away and buy bus tickets going east.”

  “Sounds like somebody taught them a sneaky trick.” James Webb settled back in his chair with a broad smile.

  Carolyn Webster chuckled while Hope exhaled. “You’ll have to talk sense into their heads next month. I wish you luck with that.”