Chapter Six
Soon after Hope left with Chloe, a woman in Plain dress bustled into the room. “I’m Betty Troyer, the bishop’s wife from the neighboring church district.” The deep frown lines slashed across her forehead and her prim, tight mouth gave the impression that before she even got to know a person, she’d already condemned them.
Micah straightened up and searched his conscience for wrongdoing. “Pleased to meet you.” Inside, he wasn’t so sure he was, but he couldn’t be rude. Fidgeting, he unsuccessfully tried to brush some of the wrinkles from his clothing so he’d look less disheveled.
Her sharp eyes took in every detail of his appearance from the bags under his eyes to the stubble on his chin. If only he’d had time to shave.
“My husband got a call from Hope Graber last night when she was trying to find relatives for the children.” She waved toward the two beds, not seeming to notice one was empty. “You probably don’t know Hope, but she’s from our church district, and she went to a lot of trouble to locate you.”
One more thing for Micah to feel guilty about. He bit back a sigh. “Actually, I have met Hope.” He enjoyed watching the woman’s eyebrows arch upward. “She stopped by this morning and offered to care for Chloe today. I greatly appreciated it because the doctor had just discharged her. Hope seems very nice.”
He hid a smile as the bishop’s wife, whose face scrunched up as if she’d sniffed a rotting fish, offered faint praise. “I suppose she is. It’s surprising she turned out decent after that father of hers—” Betty Troyer broke off suddenly, perhaps aware she was gossiping to a stranger.
Micah wondered what sins Hope’s father had committed. Were they as grave as Betty Troyer’s face indicated? Or had he fallen asleep and snored during her husband’s sermon?
When people were this critical, it was hard to tell if the person they were condemning had made a minor mistake or committed a heinous crime. Micah hoped her husband wasn’t as judgmental. Her attitude made Micah grateful for the loving, accepting, and humble bishop in his own church district.
Betty waved toward Jabin. “I just stopped by to let you know their bishop is out of town for a family wedding, but he’ll be back tomorrow. Some of the church women from their district offered to stop by to keep the children company while you prepare for”—compassion filled her eyes for a moment, making her look human and vulnerable, but she quickly shuttered it—“the funeral,” she said briskly.
Micah had pushed that thought to the back of his mind. But her reminder shot through him with a swift, sharp pang. It was up to him to handle all that. “That’s kind of them.”
Betty sniffed. “They’re only doing their duty.”
Micah was determined to counteract her negativity. “I appreciate it very much, and thank you for coming.”
“Yes, well, I should have been here earlier. If I had, Hope wouldn’t have had to take the little girl.”
Micah still felt bad about that, and Betty’s barb added to his guilt. “It would have been gut to save Hope the trouble.”
He’d been about to compliment Hope for all she’d done, but Betty inspected him with narrow, suspicious eyes, like a hawk waiting for a tiny misstep so she could swoop down and pin him with her claws.
Instead, he switched to complimenting Betty. “It was nice of you to take time from your busy day to stop by to let me know.”
Betty stood up straighter, almost preening, but quickly drooped. She must have remembered God’s warning about hochmut and curbed her pride. “Yes, well, it wasn’t easy getting here, I can tell you that.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t.” Nothing was easy for this woman, who seemed to find only negatives in life.
She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Lucas—that’s my son—threw a fit when I was walking out the door, and I couldn’t leave Martha alone with him. She’s my daughter, and she can usually deal with her brother, but she’s not one hundred percent, so I don’t like her to watch him when he’s out of control.”
“I’m sorry.” Micah’s irritation toward her lessened. It sounded as if she had major problems at home.
Her face reddened. “I don’t want you to think Lucas is bad. He’s autistic, and sometimes he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“That must be difficult.”
“It is.” Betty appeared to be fighting back tears.
Micah reminded himself you never knew what others were going through. Often a brittle surface covered hidden trauma.
“Anyway, I just wanted you to know Sylvia Esh will stop by after lunch. And she’ll be bringing her husband’s cell phone so you can make calls. Oh, and the neighbor took care of the animals this morning, and he’ll do it the next few days too, so you don’t have to worry about them.”
“Danke.” Micah was expecting her to remind him they were doing their duty, or maybe she’d quote a Scripture verse about helping others in need. To his surprise, she did neither. Had his positive answers and interest in her life softened her a little?
“I’d better be going.” Betty pivoted to face the door. Just before she strode out, she turned. “Sorry for your loss. Although we may not always understand God’s purpose when tragedies happen, we must accept His will.”
“Danke.” Micah wasn’t sure if he was thanking her for her spiritual reminder or for heading out the door.
* * *
As they’d descended in the elevator, Chloe clung tightly to Hope’s hand. “What animals do you have on your farm?”
“Mostly horses. We used to have a big horse farm, but now we have only four horses.” Five, if you counted Biscuit. “Would you like to help me groom them?”
Maybe she could do a little informal horse therapy today to help Chloe.
When they got to the farm, Chloe helped Hope rub down Biscuit. Like most Amish children, she was comfortable with horses and knew how to care for them. Maybe the familiar tasks would help to ease some of her grief. Learning to care for a horse was usually the first step in therapy, but Chloe already knew how to do that. Hope wanted to give the little girl one more tip.
“Could you get the currycomb?” Hope pointed to the plastic basket of grooming tools on a stool outside the stall.
“Sure.” Chloe picked out the proper tool without prompting. She obviously knew how to use it. She let Biscuit sniff it before starting at the horse’s neck with a circular motion. The horse sometimes twitched, but he seemed to enjoy Chloe’s attention, even leaning into the curry.
Chloe giggled. “I think she likes me.”
“She definitely does. You must have the right touch.” They shared a smile. “You know, Chloe, my horses are good listeners. And they can tell when people are sad or lonely or upset.”
Chloe stopped for a moment and looked at Hope. Biscuit flicked her head to get Chloe’s attention, but the little girl kept her gaze fixed on Hope.
“When I have a problem and no one to talk to, I lean my head against Biscuit’s neck and tell her. She keeps my secrets. I always feel better after I talk to a horse.”
Hope had grown up being told to be practical and not treat animals as pets. She’d hidden her bond with the horses, fearful she’d be mocked. Or worse yet, that her parents would forbid her to indulge in fantasies.
Biscuit wasn’t one of the trained horses, but she was a gentle mare. She’d cooperate if Chloe wanted to confide in her.
“I need to check on some of the other horses. Could you keep grooming Biscuit?” At Chloe’s nod, Hope pointed to the other tools. “You can use the stiff and soft brushes, but wait for me on the hoof pick.”
She hoped Chloe would take advantage of her privacy to talk to the horse. After leaving the stall, Hope strode down the aisle but quickly returned, being sure to stay out of sight. Low murmuring came from the stall. Although she couldn’t make out the words, it sounded like Chloe was confiding in Biscuit. Hope prayed it would help.
She waited until Chloe exited the stall to pick up the stiff brush. “Everything going all right?”
Damp-eyed, Chloe nodded and returned to the stall. If Chloe had been one of her students, Hope would have stayed in the stall with her to satisfy the insurance requirements. But the Amish way was not to hover. They gave their children freedom because they trusted God in all circumstances.
Logan had been horrified to find out that they let eight-or nine-year-olds drive pony carts. He’d be upset to think she’d allowed a seven-year-old to groom a horse without supervision. But Hope was sure Chloe’s parents most likely had allowed her to do it at home. Although it might not fit proper Englisch protocol, especially the rules of the insurance company, Hope chose to follow her instincts. And she prayed for Chloe’s safety and healing.
* * *
Jabin woke briefly when the nurse came in to check on him but soon went back to sleep. Micah coaxed him awake in time for lunch, but he remained bleary-eyed as Micah fed him the noon meal. Opening his mouth like a baby bird, Jabin ate whatever Micah placed in his mouth. If the food were changed to worms, Micah suspected his nephew might have eaten them with no reaction.
They’d just finished when Sylvia Esh arrived. A plump woman with friendly but tear-filled eyes, she dabbed at her cheeks with an embroidered handkerchief. “I’m so sorry about this tragedy,” she said in a broken voice. “Ben and Anna will be greatly missed.” She pursed her lips while examining Jabin, who had shut his eyes.
Micah suspected his nephew wasn’t sleeping but had instead blocked them out. Jabin seemed to be dealing with his pain by avoiding reality.
“Poor little one,” Sylvia exclaimed. “What a terrible thing for them to go through.” Her gaze strayed to the empty bed. “Where’s Chloe?”
“A helpful lady from another church district offered to care for her after she was discharged this morning.” Micah motioned to the chair by Jabin’s bed. “Would you like a seat?”
Sylvia lowered herself onto the green plastic seat and opened her handbag. “I brought the phone. My husband said to tell you he has unlimited calling for his business. He didn’t want you to worry about long-distance calls.”
“Danke. I really appreciate it.” Feeling uncomfortable, Micah took the phone she held out. Holding a cell phone made him feel guilty, and using someone else’s made him nervous. What if he did something wrong or damaged the phone? He slid the phone into his pocket.
“I also wanted to give you this.” She held out a slip of paper with a phone number printed on it. “Debbie’s our usual driver, and she’s free today. She’d be happy to take you wherever you need to go.”
“Danke. I appreciate that.” Micah took the paper and glanced at it before slipping it into his pocket with the phone. He looked up to find Sylvia studying him.
“You’re not married?”
At the eagerness in her voice, Micah took a step back. “Neh. Not yet.” He rubbed his hand over the stubble along his jaw. Had his unshaven chin confused her?
The corners of her mouth drooped at his answer. “I suppose ‘not yet’ means you’re courting a girl back home.”
What an odd thing to say. Usually, dating was a private matter. Besides, why would she be interested in a stranger’s personal life? Yet, she looked as if she were waiting for an answer.
“I haven’t had much time for that.” Nor had he found a girl who interested him in his g’may. If someone like Hope had been one of the choices, he would have made time to court despite his busy schedule.
The almost predatory gleam in her eyes unnerved him. And the way she continued to assess him made him ill at ease. Unlike Betty Troyer’s judgmental glower, Sylvia’s penetrating stare made it seem as if she were trying to see beyond his rumpled clothing, bloodshot eyes, and unsightly stubble.
Micah shuffled his feet, eager to get away from her scrutiny. “I should go. I need to get cleaned up, and I have phone calls to make.” He forced a smile he hoped appeared pleasant. “I appreciate you staying with Jabin. I’ll try not to be too long.”
“Take as much time as you need.” She waved a hand magnanimously. “I’m happy to stay until suppertime. Don’t worry about Jabin. He knows me from church.”
Micah hoped he wouldn’t be gone that long. He and Daed could split up the phone calls. “I’m grateful for the phone and the babysitting,” he said as he walked out the door with his duffel bag. Yet he left with an uneasy feeling that Sylvia had an underlying motive for staying with his nephew. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he intended to return as quickly as possible.
* * *
After Chloe finished grooming the horse and her low murmuring ceased, Hope entered the stall. “Are you ready to do Biscuit’s hooves?” She held out the pick.
Although Chloe’s eyes still reflected deep sadness, her pinched expression had smoothed out. “You were right. Biscuit is a good listener.” She took the pick and waited patiently while Hope lifted Biscuit’s hoof.
Once again, Chloe proved herself skillful not only with cleaning Biscuit’s hooves but also with calming the horse when she grew restless.
“You’re good with horses,” Hope observed, and was rewarded with a faint smile.
“I help Daed with . . .” The hoof pick clattered to the ground, and Chloe’s face crumpled. A small sob escaped from between pinched lips.
Hope set down Biscuit’s foot and cradled Chloe in her arms. So many everyday chores and activities would bring back memories. Hope wished she had a way to absorb all that agony. Horses might help, but Chloe had to face each day by herself.
Her arms tight around Chloe, Hope waited for the storm to subside. Biscuit tossed her head and whinnied. Then she nudged Chloe with her nose. Perhaps she too was trying to comfort the crying child.
Chloe lifted her head to look at Biscuit. “You want to help me, don’t you, Biscuit?” She stretched out a hand to stroke the horse’s nose. “You remember what I told you?”
Biscuit tossed her head up and down as if to say yes.
“She answered me,” Chloe squealed.
Hope hid a smile. “I told you she was a smart horse.”
“She is.” Chloe slipped from Hope’s embrace to throw her arms around Biscuit’s neck and bury her face against the horse’s coat.
Hope gave Chloe some time with the horse before asking, “Are you ready to finish Biscuit’s hooves?”
Chloe bent and retrieved the pick. Then she did the last two hooves while chattering to the horse. Once again, Hope marveled at how an animal could calm a child. She’d made the right decision in turning the farm into a therapy center.
Thank you, Lord, for giving me this opportunity. I’m so grateful You put this profession on my heart.
A deep peace about her future descended on her.
She wished she could help Chloe and Jabin. If only they weren’t returning to New York, Hope could offer her therapy services to Micah. For free, of course. She had no idea how long he’d be staying or if he’d even agree, but she could at least suggest it for whatever time he remained here.