The Bishop's Daughter (26 page)

Lydia sank into a chair on the front porch as a feeling of relief swept over her. For the first time in several days, she had some time alone. Ever since Jacob had come home from the hospital, she’d felt as if she were playing the role of babysitter rather than that of a wife who’d been married almost thirty-seven years. She released a sigh and reached for the glass of iced tea sitting on the small table beside her.
I probably should be out working in the garden or doing some cleaning, but it’s awfully nice to sit here and relax awhile
.

Lydia closed her eyes and leaned her full weight against the wicker chair. It was peaceful this afternoon, with the birds chirping in the nearby trees and an occasional grunt coming from Leona’s dog, which lay on the porch a few feet away. For the first time in many days, Lydia felt God’s presence. Maybe she’d been too busy these past weeks to realize He’d been there all along, helping her cope with Jacob’s handicap.
Will my husband always be this way, Lord? Is there more we can do to help his memory return?

The
clip-clop
of a horse’s hooves and the rumble of buggy wheels brought Lydia’s prayer to a halt. She opened her eyes and saw Fannie Fisher climb down from her buggy.

“Wie geht’s?” Fannie called with a wave.

“I’m fair to middlin’. How about you?”

“Still missin’ Edna, but otherwise doin’ okay.” Fannie strolled across the yard and stepped onto the porch. “I was on my way home from town and thought I’d drop by and see how you’re getting along.”

Lydia motioned to the empty chair beside her. “I’m taking some time off from my chores, so have a seat, and we can visit awhile.” She started to get up. “Can I get you something cold to drink?”

Fannie waved a hand. “I’m fine. I had a bottle of cold root beer out of the vending machine down the street from my daughter’s quilt shop not long ago.”

Lydia smiled, remembering how delicious the root beer was that Abraham used to make. “Don’t suppose that husband of yours has made any of his own root beer lately?”

“In all the years we’ve been married, Abraham’s only made it a couple of times.” Fannie slowly shook her head. “I think every time he’s made root beer it’s reminded him of the day his little boy was stolen, although he never speaks of it anymore.”

Lydia clicked her tongue. “Sometimes when I’m feeling sorry for myself because of Jacob’s accident, I think about all you and Abraham have been through, and I have to stop and count my blessings.”

“Abraham, Naomi, and my daughter, Abby, they’re the ones who’ve really had their faith put to the test.” Fannie reached over and patted Lydia’s arm. “Keep trusting God; He will see you through.”

Lydia nodded as tears clouded her vision. It was easy enough to say God was in control, but when one’s faith was put to the test, it was another matter.

“Is Jacob getting any better?” Fannie asked.

“Not really. Some days he’s hard to deal with because of his silly antics. Other days he seems calmer and more cooperative.” Lydia drew in a breath and released it with a huff. “He’s called Leona by her nickname a couple of times, which gave me some hope that he might remember she’s his daughter. But then he goes right back to calling her Mary again. Leona gets set down pretty hard whenever her daed doesn’t respond to things the way she would like.”

“It has to be
hatt
for you, Leona, and Arthur to see Jacob like that and know there’s nothing you can do but pray and try to be there for him.”

“Jah, it’s difficult, to be sure. Our other daughters, Peggy and Rebecca, are concerned, too. But with them both living in Kentucky, they only know what I write them and don’t get to see it firsthand.” Lydia forced a smile. “Jacob’s birthday is this Saturday; he’ll turn fifty-nine.”

“Are you planning a party for him?”

“I hadn’t given it much thought, but maybe I should. Might do him some good to have his family and close friends gathered together.” Lydia shrugged. “Who knows, it may even be helpful in bringing back his memory.”

“I think it’s a fine idea.”

“You, Abraham, and your whole family are invited, of course,”
Lydia said, feeling a surge of excitement she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Maybe we can have a barbecue with cake and homemade ice cream for dessert.”

Fannie licked her lips. “Sounds good to me. Just tell me what time the party will begin and what I can bring.”

J
immy whistled as he drove down the road toward the Weavers’ place. He seemed to be fitting in more all the time and was pleased that Lydia had invited him to attend the barbecue in honor of her husband’s birthday. It would give him a chance to get to know some of the others he hadn’t become well acquainted with yet. Abraham Fisher was one of those he had met on a few occasions but didn’t know so well. Abraham always kept his distance, and Jimmy wondered if the man might be prejudiced against him because he was English. Or maybe Abraham felt threatened by Jimmy’s friendship with the bishop. Leona had mentioned once that her dad and Abraham used to be good friends before Jacob’s accident. Now that he’d lost his memory and didn’t know who Abraham was, they had little to talk about. Of course, Jacob didn’t remember meeting Jimmy before the accident, either. But for some reason, he seemed taken with Jimmy and had quickly become his friend.

When Jimmy pulled into the Weavers’ yard a short time later, he noticed several Amish buggies lined up beside the barn with their shafts resting on the ground. The horses had been unhitched, and he could see them moving around the corral.

“I hope I’m not late. I thought Lydia said six o’clock, and it’s only two minutes after that now,” he mumbled, glancing at his watch—the one his dad had given him for his birthday. He flinched, realizing once more that he still hadn’t come to grips with the anger he felt over Jim’s deceit. The only way he’d been able to keep from thinking about it was to stay busy and concentrate on helping Jacob. In fact, that had become his primary focus. Looking for his family had taken a backseat.
Of course
, he reasoned,
there’s a part of me that’s afraid to find my family, because I know that if Jim went to jail for kidnapping, I would feel disloyal to the only mother I’ve ever known
.

The pungent aroma of meat cooking on the grill drew Jimmy’s thoughts aside, and when he stepped out of the truck carrying a paper sack with the gift inside that he’d bought for Jacob, his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, figuring he would make up for it tonight.

Jimmy hurried around to the back side of the house and discovered several people, including Leona and her parents, seated at two oversized picnic tables. They were already eating, and he glanced at his watch again. The time was the same as it had been a few minutes ago, and he realized then that his watch had stopped.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, stepping up to the table where Lydia and Jacob sat. “Guess the battery in my watch is dead.”

Jacob grinned up at him. “Hi, Jimmy. Glad ya could make it to my party.”

Lydia smiled and nodded. “You’re not so late.”

“We just started eating a few minutes ago,” Arthur put in from across the table. “Grab yourself a burger from the grill and have a seat.”

Jimmy handed Jacob the paper sack. “This is for you. Happy birthday.”

Jacob’s smile widened. “What is it?”

“Open the sack and take a look.”

Jacob pulled it open and peered inside. “Umm. . .licorice.” He smacked his lips. “That’s my favorite candy.”

Jimmy nodded. “There’s something else in there, too.”

Jacob stuck his hand into the sack again and withdrew a paintbrush. He gave Jimmy a quizzical look, then turned to Lydia and swished the brush against the tip of her nose. “Does that tickle, Mama?”

She chuckled and looked over at Jimmy.

“I thought it might help spark a memory for him,” he said.

She nodded. “Maybe so.”

Jimmy glanced around, wondering where would be the best place to sit.

“There’s a vacant spot next to Mary,” Jacob said, pointing to the bench where Leona sat.

Jimmy smiled, and Leona offered him a brief smile in return. “You’re welcome to sit here if you like,” she said.

Jimmy didn’t have to be asked twice. He enjoyed Leona’s company
and thought if he was Amish or she was English, he might even be interested in dating her.
I’m almost Amish
, he reminded himself.
After all, I was born to an Amish couple
. He forked a juicy burger onto his plate and took a seat, hoping to focus his thoughts on something other than his past—a past he’d thought he had known about until he’d learned the truth concerning his so-called adoption.

“I’m glad you were able to come to the party,” Leona said as she passed him a package of buns. “Would you like some ketchup or mustard to put on your meat?”

“I’d like both, please.”

“How about lettuce, tomatoes, or onions?”

“Yeah, all three.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and Leona giggled. It was good to see her in better spirits tonight. She had been sullen ever since he’d met her, and even more so since her dad’s accident. She hadn’t actually said so, but the way she acted whenever she was around her dad made Jimmy think she was embarrassed by her father’s juvenile actions. The other day at the schoolhouse, Jacob had dropped a hunk of licorice Jimmy had given him, and he’d bent down, picked it up, and popped it into his mouth. Leona looked mortified, gave him a lecture about the ground being full of germs, and barely said more than two words to her dad after that.

“Would you like some potato salad?” Leona asked, touching Jimmy’s elbow with her hand.

He felt a strange tingling sensation, and he gave his arm a quick once-over to see if some bug might have landed there. Relieved when he didn’t see anything, he bit into his burger and mumbled, “Sure, I’d love some.”

Abraham folded his arms and leaned back in the wooden chair where he’d taken a seat on the Weavers’ front porch. A game of croquet was being played in the yard, and most of the young people were involved in it—everyone except Jacob’s youngest daughter, that is. Leona and that young English painter who Jacob had hired awhile back left the yard a few minutes ago.

Abraham’s gaze went to the driveway where Leona walked between
Jimmy and Jacob.
Not only is my good friend taken in by that young Englisher, but his daughter seems to be, as well. I need to nip this in the bud, because I’m sure Jacob’s not going to do anything about it. Most of the time, he doesn’t even realize Leona is his daughter, much less show any concern for her welfare
.

He reached under the brim of his straw hat and scratched his forehead.
Just who is this Jimmy Scott, and why’s he been hanging around Jacob so much? No one seems to know a lot about him other than the fact that he paints and comes from the state of Washington
.

“You ready for some ice cream?”

“Huh?” Abraham looked up at his wife. She held a heaping bowl of vanilla ice cream in her hand. “Jah. Danki, Fannie.”

“How come you’re sitting here by yourself?” she questioned. “I figured you’d be visiting with the birthday boy.”

Abraham took the bowl from her and groaned. “That’s exactly what Jacob is, too. He might be fifty-nine years old on the outside, but inside he’s just a kid.” He pointed to the game in progress. “Did you see him out there earlier, snappin’ that ball around and hollering like he don’t have a lick of sense? Now he’s walking down the driveway with Leona and that Englisher like they’re the best of friends.”

“You need to calm yourself down, husband,” Fannie said, easing into the chair beside him. “It’s not Jacob’s fault he can’t remember how old he is. Maybe if you talked to him more about the things you used to do together, it might help jog his memory.”

Abraham spooned some ice cream into his mouth, savoring the rich, creamy taste and mulling over what his wife had said. Finally, he swallowed and cleared his throat. “I have tried talking to him some, but so far nothin’ I’ve said has made any difference.”

“Try to be patient and remember to keep praying.”

“I have been praying.” His gaze went to the driveway again. Jimmy, Leona, and Jacob had disappeared. No doubt they’d decided to walk up the road apiece.