The Lesson (32 page)

“Something’s eating at you,” she said. “It has been for a while now. Weeks.”

He kept his eyes on the star.

“Is your heart giving you any trouble? Did the doctor tell you something at your last checkup that you didn’t tell me—”

“No,” he interrupted. “My heart’s not the problem. Not in the way that you mean.”

A long silence spun out between them. Finally, Fern sighed. “I can’t read your mind, Amos.”

He turned and gave her a sad smile. “Sometimes, I think you can.”

17

J
enny jerked awake from a dreamless sleep and sat straight up, blinking, trying to gather information as fast as possible. Where was she? Was she late for school?

No. She was on a bus to Columbus, Ohio. Once there, she would catch another bus to get to Marysville, and then a city bus to meet her mother. She had sneaked out of the house before dawn and left a note for Chris:

Needed at the schoolhouse early. After school too. Don’t worry if I’m late. Lots to do.

It was tricky getting a bus ticket, since the woman behind the counter said she needed an adult to buy it for her. So Jenny lied. She
lied
. Her first lie ever—no, wait. It was her second one. She had lied to Chris in the note she left him. She wasn’t proud of it. She told the ticket lady that she looked small but she was actually over eighteen. She said she had a genetic disease that kept her from growing like a normal person. She said it was a common ailment among the Amish and the ticket lady’s eyes softened. Then she sold Jenny a ticket for forty-one dollars and told her to be extra careful.

As Jenny settled into the seat by the window, she felt like crying and didn’t know why. The bus was quiet and a toddler in the back row with his mother fussed a little. It seemed like the loneliest place in the world. She wanted to be home, making soupy Cream of Wheat for her brother. She wanted to bake bread with Fern after school. She looked forward to being with Fern all day long, every day. Her stomach twisted in hunger as she thought of the smell of baking bread. Was there any better smell in the entire world?

Why did she do this? What was she thinking? Jenny felt that tangle of anxiety and sorrow and relief that always came up when she thought about her mother.

Get off the bus and
go home
, said a voice in her head.
Home.
Windmill Farm came to mind as she mulled over the word. That was how she felt when she was baking in the kitchen with Fern. She was thirteen years old and she felt she had found what she’d always wanted, even without knowing that she wanted it. She was home.

That was Jenny’s state of mind as the bus rumbled along the freeway, passing on a rusty bridge over a winding river as it headed through West Virginia, then another bridge as it sped into Ohio. Every mile, pulling her farther and farther from Stoney Ridge. Tears choked her. She pressed her fist really hard against the bottom of her jaw to keep from crying.

But then she thought about her mom, who was counting on her to be there when she was released today. Her mom had been clean for a while now, so she would be in good shape. She wouldn’t be a bundle of raw nerves. Maybe, at least for Christmas Day, her mother wouldn’t say mean things to Chris. Jenny didn’t know how her brother stood it—but Chris never fought back. He just quietly absorbed the awful
things their mother said to him. That his birth had ruined her life. That Chris was stupid, just like his father, even though Grace often admitted she had hardly known the man. That Chris was a hypocrite—joining the Amish church was just his way to get back at her.

She didn’t say such horrible things to Jenny. Only to Chris. She even talked about Jenny’s absentee father in a nice way. “He works for the government, top secret stuff, so he can’t let anyone know about us. But someday, he’ll be back for us,” she would tell Jenny. Or, if Jenny complained about her height, she would say, “Your dad isn’t very tall, either. Good things come in small packages.”

It didn’t make any sense to Jenny. She had never known her father. Chris had never known his. Both men had gone missing long before their babies were born. She liked to hear those stories about her CIA father, but she knew they probably weren’t true. Maybe, but probably not. She hated to hear how her mother talked about Chris’s father. Her mother had a nickname for him: W.B. Why Bother.

Chris never defended himself, never said a word back to their mother. Somehow, his steadfast calm made her even more angry.

Sometimes, Jenny wished Chris would go ahead and argue back, tell their mom to stop. She had admitted as much to Old Deborah once. Old Deborah had cupped her liver-spotted hands around Jenny’s small face. “Years ago, your brother read something from the Bible that spoke to him and settled deep. Something Jesus had said. From Matthew 10:16.” Then she closed her eyes, as if she were reading the words in her head. “‘Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.’” Old Deborah explained that Chris was wise enough
to know that words were like tools. “Your mother uses her tools to tear down. Chris uses his tools to repair and fix up.”

Her brother amazed her. Every single day, he amazed her. So kind, so faithful, so determined to live a better life, to be a better person, to build new memories.

Despite everything, despite how confused she felt, it was her mother whom Jenny couldn’t stop thinking about. Her mother needed her. She should be there when her mother was released from rehab.

When the bus pulled into Marysville, Jenny hurried to the bathroom and washed her face. She was hungry but didn’t want to miss the city bus that would travel to her mom’s rehab center. She had brought all of the money she had earned by working for Fern—nearly one hundred dollars. She had visited her mom at this rehab center before, so she went to the right bus, paid the fare, climbed aboard, and sat down. Without Old Deborah beside her, the city felt especially lonely.

Why was she doing this? What was she thinking? Why didn’t she tell Chris about this plan? He would know what to do. If Jenny had only talked to him about it, they could have figured out what to do together. Why did her mother want this to be such a big surprise? Suddenly, the bus came to a stop a block away from the rehab center and she jumped up. This was it. She was here. She had come this far. She might as well see it through. Jenny felt sick to her stomach. She knew this was the stupidest idea she ever had, but her mom needed her. She had to remember that.

At the rehab center, she sat for a long time in the dimly lit waiting room. Finally, the receptionist at the desk called her
name. A door buzzed, then opened, and suddenly the room filled up with her mom.

“JENNY!” her mother yelled.

For a fleeting second, the sound reminded Jenny of the booming way Uncle Hank would enter a room and everyone would cringe.

But when Jenny saw how much healthier her mom appeared, her whole being came to rest and she was glad she had come. She jumped up to cross the room and hug her. “Mom!”

Her mother smelled like cigarettes and shampoo. Her arms were strong, and she had gained weight. Even her hair looked shiny.

“You’ve grown half a foot since I saw you last!” her mother said, pulling back to look at her.

“One-and-a-half inches,” Jenny said, laughing. “Can you believe it?”

Grace stepped back to look Jenny up and down, holding on to her hands. “You look so beautiful! Even in that kooky get-up.”

Jenny ignored that. “So do you, Mom.” It was true. Her mom’s face didn’t have open sores anymore, and her shiny hair was pulled back into a tidy ponytail.

Grace looked at the clock on the wall. “Let’s get out of here! Let’s go to McDonald’s and get us a Big Mac. I’ve had a craving for one for months and months.”

They walked down the street to McDonald’s. Jenny took her wallet out of her backpack and saw her mother’s eyebrows lift in surprise when she pulled a twenty from it to pay the cashier. They went outside and sat on a bench in the sunshine. It was chilly, but the sun felt good.

Her mom wolfed down the Big Mac and then ate half of Jenny’s. As she sipped on her giant soda, Jenny felt so happy
to see her mom’s healthy appetite. When her mom was doing drugs, she didn’t care about eating. After her mom polished off the french fries, she took a cigarette out and lit it, blowing smoke away from Jenny. She smoked restlessly, her eyes constantly glancing at her wristwatch.

When she finished one cigarette, she lit a new one from the butt, then tossed the butt on the ground and stamped it out with her shoe. When she saw Jenny’s frown, she said, “I’m cutting back. There’s just not much else to do but smoke in there. Gotta do something with my hands.” Her mother looked uneasy. “We need to catch that bus pretty soon.”

“It’s only 12:30. The bus to Columbus leaves at 1:00. We have just enough time. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be home by dinnertime. Chris will be worried if I’m not back before he gets home from work.”

“Chris was born worrying.” Grace flicked the ashes off her cigarette. “He thinks he does a better job raising you than I do. He thinks he’s better than me.” She took a long drag on her cigarette, blowing smoke away from Jenny but looking at her hard. “But he’s not.”

Jenny tensed, like she always did when her mother criticized Chris. Things had been going so well since her mom had left the center, a full twenty minutes without any digs about Chris. She desperately wanted this Christmas to be different. Her mom had promised. “He’s been working really hard on the house, Mom. He works a full day job, then he comes home and fixes the house up till almost midnight. Starts all over again the next day. The house is looking great too. The yard is all cleaned up now and he patched the roof so it stopped leaking and he fixed broken windows so bats can’t fly in.”

Grace looked pleased. Very, very pleased. “Bet Rodney the Realtor is licking his chops.”

Jenny’s head snapped up. “How do you know about him?”

Grace kept her eyes fixed on a grease spot on the picnic bench. “You must have mentioned him in a letter.”

Jenny couldn’t remember mentioning Rodney Gladstone in any letter to her mother. Had she? Her mind skimmed through the different letters she wrote to her mother—

“We should get going if we want to catch that bus.” Grace looked at her wristwatch again.

Jenny suddenly felt the effects of the giant soda she drank and needed to go to the bathroom. Really bad. “I’m just going to zip into McDonald’s and go to the bathroom before we leave.”

Her mother reached across the table and squeezed Jenny’s hand. She smiled at her, her eyes softening with affection. “Take all the time you need, sweet girl.”

Jenny smiled. She loved when her mom called her “sweet girl.” That tense moment had passed and her mother was being kind again. Jenny was glad she had come. She had missed her mom. Everything was going to be all right. They were finally going to be a real family. Pretty normal. As close to normal as they could get. “I’ll be right back.”

In the bathroom, Jenny washed her hands and thought about Chris. By now, Chris might have figured out that she had left town. She hoped he wouldn’t be too angry. She hoped he would see what she knew to be true—this time it would be different. Their mom was finally well. She took a paper towel to dry her hands, then carefully used it to open the door handle and avoid germs, the way Fern had taught her. When she stepped outside, she stopped in the bright glare of the winter sun, puzzled. Her breath snagged. A ripple of fear started in her toes and ended in her forehead.

Her mother was gone.

And so was Jenny’s backpack.

Since Chris was no longer needed—or wanted—at Windmill Farm, he was back to finding odd jobs at the bulletin board at the hardware store. He had spent the day cleaning the garage of an English couple. He couldn’t believe how much junk they had stored away, like chipmunks. He didn’t tell them that, though. After work, he stopped by the hardware store again and was disappointed that there were no new jobs posted. The holidays, he figured. Everyone was busy with family. Everyone except those who had no family. He wasn’t sure what he and Jenny would do for Christmas. Jimmy Fisher had invited them over for Christmas dinner, but Edith Fisher was a little terrifying. Erma Yutzy had invited them to her granddaughter’s house. Maybe they would accept Erma’s invitation.