Fearless Hope: A Novel (34 page)

“I—I did not pray,” Mary confessed. “I could not. I did not
think I could continue to care well for the other children if I tried to keep hope alive in my heart. I was afraid it would eat me up. I am so sorry, Logan, but I gave up on you in order to survive.”

“You should probably call the police now,” Deborah said. “I don’t think I can bear much more of this.”

“Police?” Esther grasped the handle of her cane tightly. “Who said anything about police?”

All the Troyers looked at one another with discomfort written on their faces. Logan saw his brothers shift their feet and glance away.

Ivan cleared his throat. “Like the rest of the Amish and Mennonites, we try not to get police involved unless it is absolutely necessary.”

“But I committed a crime,” Deborah said.

“We believe that God can bring triumph out of tragedy,” Ivan said. “We believe that it is possible for His will to triumph over evil where His people are involved. We are a people who believe in practicing forgiveness.”

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

“You’ve got
that
right!” Caleb’s voice was bitter.

“Hush, Caleb. You stop that right now,” Esther said, then she turned back to Deborah. “You seem to want to be punished. No doubt you need to make amends for what you did and you should, but I think we can find a better way than by putting a perfectly good attorney behind bars.”

“Mother?” Ivan said. “What are you doing? I thought we had agreed about this.”

“Shhh, Son. This is a woman who needs to make restitution. I’m going to give her something to do.”

“Anything,” his mother said. “I will do absolutely anything you ask. Just name it.”

“Logan says that you are very good at what you do,” Esther said.

“It is rare for me to lose a case.”

The old woman seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. “Do you know anything about international law?”

“Not a lot, but I could learn.” Deborah’s voice was puzzled.

“Do you, by any chance, speak Spanish?”

“I have a working knowledge of it.” She looked perplexed. “What does this have to do with me taking your grandson?”

“Mother, that is brilliant!” Ivan exclaimed. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, and you’re right.”

Esther sat back and smiled as Ivan explained.

“We are having trouble with legalities about one of the wells,” he said. “Logan might have mentioned that our family has worked for years to bring clean water to third-world countries. It is not terribly hard to get volunteers who will help dig wells or teach people how to use filtration devices or pass out purification packets, but the red tape we have to go through to get permission is sometimes a great headache. If we had someone who knows how to do the legal maneuvering to get things done—and would be willing to work for free—that would be a gift straight from God.”

His mother’s eyes grew wide. “Are you saying that you and your family would forgive what I’ve done for nothing more than some pro bono work?”

“Oh, no.” Esther shook a finger at her. “You will not get off so easily. We need funds for what we do. We’re assuming you have made good money in New York and have influential and wealthy friends?”

“I have made excellent money in New York, and I have dozens of influential and wealthy friends.”

Logan could hear hope dawning in his mother’s voice.

“Wouldn’t it be something,” Ivan said, “if what Satan intended as evil turned out to bring about a great good?”

“You truly believe that?” Deborah asked.

“We do,” Esther said.

Deborah’s shoulders straightened and her chin lifted. “I would need to know more about what you do. A lot more. I’d love to be part of something as practical and necessary as providing pure water to people who have none.”

“What you did was a very grave wrong,” Ivan said. “You should have given our boy back to us immediately. You should never have kept him. On the other hand, had you not been there, the chances are very good that he would have drowned. A three-year-old does not have good sense. He might have tried to wade out to where he had last seen his brother. That beach was very isolated and we were gone a very long time. God used Pharoah’s daughter to save Moses’ life when he was a baby. We believe
God might have used you . . . and your weakness . . . to save our son. We’ll never know, but . . . we forgive you. ‘Weeping may endure for a night, but Joy cometh in the morning.’ ”

It was then that Mary opened her arms to him, and he truly hugged his . . . other mother . . . for the first time.

“I—I have pictures,” Deborah said cautiously. “Back in New York. So many picture albums. One for each year. I will have copies made and bring them to you.”

“Thank you,” Mary said. “We would appreciate that very much.”

Logan noticed that Hope had disappeared for a few minutes. Now she came out on the porch. “I still have all those cinnamon buns you made, Mary, and I just made some fresh coffee. I also have milk for the children. Please, everyone, come in.”

“Before we do,” Ivan said, “Mother, would you lead us in a prayer of gratitude?”

Esther, who had been so faithful in her prayers for so long, lifted her nearly sightless eyes to the sky, raised her hands
above her head, and prayed a prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord so pure and heartfelt that Logan could feel the power of it.

“And this,” Ivan said to the children gathered around, “is who we are, and this is what we do. Our family serves the Lord—no matter what comes—and when He answers our prayers, no matter how he answers them—we give him praise.”

Logan wiped moisture from his eyes as he watched his family file into his house. Except for Caleb, who walked off the end of the porch and went over to the large oak tree. He leaned one arm against the tree and looked off toward his father’s house.

Logan followed him.

“You were adorable,” Caleb said, without turning around. “And I loved you like only a big brother can love a baby brother. I would have given my life for you . . . and yet because of my foolishness, all these years I thought I had caused your death.”

“That’s a terrible burden to carry,” Logan said. “But I
am
still here.”

Caleb turned to look at him. “And I’m glad. It’s going to take me a while to forgive that woman—your ‘mother’—but I’ll work at it. I agree with my parents, it will do none of us any good to make a public thing out of this. What’s done is done. Punishing her will accomplish nothing.”

Then he hooked an arm around Logan’s neck, drew him near, and gave the top of his head a good, hard scrubbing with his knuckles.

“What was that!” Shocked by his brother’s actions, Logan put his hand on top of his stinging scalp.

“As the eldest, I figure we’ve got about thirty years of “noogies” to make up for, little brother,” Caleb said. Then he hugged
him hard. “You have no idea how good it is to have you back. Maybe I can sleep without nightmares now. We all tried to pretend we were okay . . . for each other . . . but we weren’t. Now maybe we can begin to heal.”

“Did your grandmother really pray for me every day all these years?” Logan asked as they walked back to the house, their arms resting upon each other’s shoulders. “That’s kind of crazy.”

“We thought so. Now we’re figuring out that she was crazy like an old fox. I think the rest of us learned a thing or two about prayer tonight.”

•  •  •

His mother had a restless night. Not from pain, which had not become a big problem yet, but apparently from sheer astonishment. She couldn’t get over what had happened earlier in the evening. She kept pacing back and forth across the living room floor, occasionally glancing out at the window toward the Troyers’, although it was too dark to see anything except their porch light.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she kept saying. “What an amazing family you’ve come from, Logan. I never dreamed it would turn out like this. Never!”

He was beyond exhausted, but he wanted to stay up as long as she needed him. “You need to get your rest, Mom.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” she snapped. “Until then, I need to work. I promised I’d help with their well project. They don’t yet know I only have a limited time to work. I want to accomplish as much as possible for those good people for as long as I can.”

“Can you keep your voice down, Mom?” He rubbed his eyes. “Hope and the baby are asleep. So is Simon. I wouldn’t mind getting a little sleep, myself.”

“Is she going to be staying here permanently?”

“No. She doesn’t want to. That was just a temporary fix while everyone knew I was in New York. I’ll take her to her mom and dad’s tomorrow. If you remember, she doesn’t have a house to live in anymore. A tornado destroyed it three . . .” He glanced at his watch. “Make that four days ago.”

“I have to get back to New York.” His mother wasn’t listening. “You need to take me home.”

“Now?”

“My time is short,” she said. “I have an office to close down. Research on international law to begin. You can help me polish my Spanish along the way.”

“I don’t know any Spanish.”

“Then I’ll review mine by teaching you. You can catch a nap at my place before you head back.”

He knew his mother. When she got like this, a protest was futile. “Whatever you say, Mom.”

Sick or not, the powerhouse known as Deborah Parker was back, at least for now.

“H
old still!” Logan shouted from inside the barn. “Please!”

Hope wasn’t sure what was going on, but she thought she’d better investigate.

“Not like that, like this.” Simon’s calm voice overrode Logan’s frantic one. “You have to move this over here, and . . . uh-oh . . .”

She heard Logan let out a yelp.

“I was afraid that was going to happen,” Simon said. “You’re trying to do too much too fast.”

“I want to surprise Hope.”

“She’s going to be surprised, all right!” Simon chuckled.

Hope stepped into the barn, worried about what she was going to find.

“
Vas ist letz?
What’s wrong?”

The last thing she expected to see was Logan lying in a stable that needed a good cleaning, where he had apparently been kicked by her buggy horse.

“Are you all right?” She rushed in and squatted beside him.

“No, I’m not all right,” he gasped. “That horse of yours just kicked me!”

“That’s what horses do. You have to be on your guard.”

“Where did you get him, anyway?” Logan asked. “He’s always so good for you and Simon, but he’s done everything but roll over and play dead trying to keep me from hitching him to the buggy.”

“That’s Copy Cat,” she said. “Claire gave him to me a few months ago. She said she had a little trouble managing him, but I’ve never had any. You should have known better than to stand behind him. Why on earth were you trying to hitch him to the buggy anyway? Don’t you have better things to do?”

Logan had been lying prostrate, now he sat up and gingerly felt his ribs. “I don’t think anything is broken.”

“Copy Cat is smart,” Simon said. “He pulled back at the last moment. He knew he had an amateur behind him so he didn’t kick as hard as he can.”

“What I don’t understand is what you’re doing out here bothering my horse at all,” Hope said.

“You tell her, Simon,” Logan groaned. “I’d rather not right now.”

“I’d rather not, too,” Simon said.

“Well.” Hope put both hands on her hips. “
One
of you had better tell me, and fast.”

“I was trying to learn how to harness the horse to the buggy. I asked Simon to teach me.”

“I already got that part. What I want to know is why on earth you would want to harness
my
horse to
my
buggy when you have a perfectly good car sitting outside.”

“That’s the part I don’t want to tell you,” he said. “Not yet.”

She tapped her foot. “I’m waiting.”

“Well, I sure didn’t want to tell you while I’m lying here in a pile of manure.”

“Logan . . .” Hope allowed some real anger to enter her voice.

“Oh, okay!” Logan’s face turned bright red. “I wanted to see if I could hitch a horse to a buggy because if I turned Amish I’d need to know how to do things like that.”

“Turn Amish?” Hope was puzzled. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You know . . . become Amish. Like you.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“No. Have you lost yours?” His voice was much too defensive, and she didn’t know why. It sounded like they were having an argument when all she wanted was to figure out what was causing Logan to try to hitch up her buggy. Now he was saying he wanted to become Amish. Nothing he was saying or doing was making a lick of sense to her.

“You aren’t even all that religious,” she said.

“I could be,” Logan said defensively. “You don’t know what I think about God.”

“That’s because you never mention Him.”

“That’s because you never ask.”

“So . . . let me get this straight . . . you’re trying to hitch my horse to my buggy because you believe in God now?”

Logan pulled himself out of the muck. “Of course I believe in God. I asked you to pray for me and my mom, didn’t I?”

He stood up. Simon handed him a handful of clean straw and he started wiping his pants off with it.

“So you think you’re going to become Amish? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds right now?” Hope said. “You’ve purchased every electric appliance and gizmo known to man, and now you’re going to go completely nonelectric? Amish people become
Englisch
sometimes, but
Englisch
people do
not
become Amish.”

“Is there a rule against that?”

“No. It’s just that it’s too hard. Only a few who try it ever make it. It’s a difficult life, even for those of us who have been
raised in the faith. Usually people join the Amish church not for religious reasons, but because they’ve fallen in love with some Amish person and think they have to become Amish in order to get married . . .”

Her voice trailed off because Logan was standing there looking at her with the strangest look on his face.