18

The final two weeks of June passed in a blur of searing heat, blasting wind, and seemingly endless busyness. Amy’s debit card arrived in the mail, so she took the children into town to visit the library, where she finalized her Web page and, with Miss Bergstrom standing by in case Amy needed assistance, made the information available on the World Wide Web. Her stomach trembled the first time she visited her own page, and right there in the library she closed her eyes and asked God to guide customers in need of comfort to her page so she might serve them.

The same day her Web page went live, she made arrangements to reactivate the telephone line disconnected by the previous owners. She and the children drove to nearby Ottawa and visited a discount store to find a telephone so she could communicate with customers if need be. She requested a rotary dial wall-mount phone similar to the one in her father’s office. The young man in the electronics department laughed until he realized she was serious. Then he did his best salesman job, insisting she needed a digital phone with caller ID and additional digital handsets so she could have telephones in several places in the house. Even though Bekah seemed to perk up at the idea, Amy remained firm and left the store with a simple, corded, push-button model that now sat on the corner of the kitchen counter, within a few yards of her sewing machine. So far it had rung three times—twice her father and once a wrong number.

While in the discount store, she visited the fabric department and purchased several yards of sturdy tan and navy twill and blue chambray to make Parker some britches and shirts. She let both Bekah and Adrianna choose fabric for new dresses, as well. Adrianna squealed in delight, dancing along the display of cotton floral prints before choosing a lavender with tiny pink flowers. To Amy’s disappointment, Bekah showed no pleasure at all in the activity, turning up her nose at the limited selection and finally settling on a solid mint-green muslin. Later, as they were checking out, Amy glimpsed Bekah surreptitiously examining a teen magazine. The intrigued gleam in her daughter’s eyes kept her awake and praying long into the night.

Every morning, she took time away from her sewing to work in the garden plot behind the house. How weeds could grow so abundantly in the dry, hot weather she couldn’t imagine, but she faced a constant battle keeping them from stealing nutrients from her beans, peas, peppers, beets, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, cantaloupe, and watermelon. Parker and Bekah helped with weeding, and Adrianna splashed the plants with water from the spigot. They all tired of working in the garden, but Amy reminded them they’d appreciate the fresh vegetables once the plants began to produce. Inwardly, she wondered how much they’d actually glean from the poor, wilted scrubs of green.

The men from the Ohio fellowship worked the fields around Amy’s house daily, stirring up dirt that traveled on the wind and drifted through her open windows. They set up sprinklers to water the soybeans, drawing water from the hydrant behind Amy’s house. Despite the sun’s bold rays, the plants grew, promising at least a minimal harvest. When the fellowship members met on Sundays, they thanked God for the growing plants and continued to ask Him to bless them with rain. Yet not even a wisp of a cloud appeared in the endless blue sky.

Twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, Bekah and Parker mounted their bicycles and rode to Mr. Roper’s house for the afternoon. They never complained about having to work for their neighbor. After each visit, they came home sweaty and dirty but smiling, full of stories of what they’d done that day and things Mr. Roper had said. Parker, especially, seemed to blossom from the man’s attention, and Amy found herself growing ever more appreciative of their neighbor. She prayed for him daily, for God to touch him with grace and healing and to draw him close again.

The last Friday in June, Mr. Schell knocked on the door just as Amy shut down her machine for the afternoon. His face glowed red from his time in the sun, and sweat circles blotched his shirt under his arms and in the middle of his chest. Amy invited him to step inside, then called, “Adrianna? Pour Mr. Schell a glass of ice water, please.”

The little girl forgot the ice, but Mr. Schell didn’t seem to mind. He guzzled the entire glass without pause, then smiled wearily at Amy. “I need to start carrying two big jugs of water when I come out to work. My thirst is impossible to quench in this heat.”

Adrianna trotted back to the kitchen with Mr. Schell’s empty glass in her hands, and Amy shook her head in worry. “It’s a wonder you men all don’t suffer heatstroke out there. Please feel free to come to the house anytime for more water. The back door is open during the day so you can get ice from the freezer, or you know you can always use the hydrant out back.”

“That’s kind of you, Mrs. Knackstedt. I’ll tell the others. Now, I wanted to let you know Dillard Gerber has reached an agreement with the insurance agent in town to use the meeting room at the back of his office for worship services until we can locate a separate building. The man is very kind, only charging us a small amount to cover the cost of electricity for lights and cooling while we’re there. So we won’t need to trouble you any longer by taking over your sitting room.”

“How nice of him.” Amy tried to inject enthusiasm into her tone, but her thoughts drifted to Mr. Roper. She’d hoped the sound of their voices might reach his ears and reignite his faith. If they began worshiping in town, far from Mr. Roper’s home, how would he hear them singing hymns and reading Scripture?

“We’ll meet at nine thirty, just as we’ve been doing.” Mr. Schell shared the address with Amy. “My wife still wants us to have a fellowship meal together afterward, so bring something that will keep for a few hours, and we’ll trade off going to the different houses in town to eat together.”

“That all sounds wonderful, Mr. Schell. Thank you.” She watched him clomp across the porch and then over the withered grass to his waiting vehicle. As he pulled out of her lane, Bekah and Parker rode in on their bicycles. Amy stayed on the porch, waiting until the children put their bikes in the garage and then ran to her.

Parker gave her a hug, and Amy wrinkled her nose. “Phew, you stink. Go take your bath before we eat, huh?”

Parker chortled and headed on in.

Bekah stepped onto the porch and paused, giving her mother a puzzled look. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not really.” Amy ushered Bekah inside and to the kitchen. She told her daughter about the change in location for the worship services.

Bekah’s face lit. “They won’t be coming here anymore?”

“That makes you happy?”

Bekah shrugged, her expression sheepish. “We had to do twice the cleaning. We cleaned on Saturday to get ready for them all, and then we cleaned up the messes they made afterward.”

“Bekah . . .” Amy clicked her tongue on her teeth and began pulling cans from the pantry to put together a simple casserole.

“Mom, you have to admit, some of those kids were really messy.” While she spoke, Bekah washed her hands in the sink. She pulled out the hand-operated can opener and took one can from Amy. “They used up all our dishes, carried dirt in on their feet, and they left crumbs everywhere.”

Amy stared, aghast, at her daughter. From where had this ungrateful attitude come? “We should be honored to host the worship, even if it does mean a little dirt.”

“That was hardly a little dirt. . . .”

Only then did Amy see the teasing glint in Bekah’s eye. She burst out laughing. “You scamp.” She teasingly snatched the can and opener from her daughter and began opening cans.

Bekah giggled and retrieved a glass casserole dish. “Actually, the mess all those people made together is nothing compared to what I’ve been cleaning at Mr. Roper’s house. It’s sad, Mom, how he’s let his house go just because he doesn’t have time to clean.” She leaned against the counter and watched Amy combine cans of pork ’n’ beans, kidney beans, and white beans. “He really appreciates everything I’m doing to make it all neat again—he told me so. And he said his wife, who was an impeccable housekeeper, would be rolling over in her grave if she knew how badly he’d let the place go.”

Amy didn’t miss the subtle emphasis. She knew she shouldn’t ask, but the question slipped out anyway. “He talked to you about his wife?”

Bekah began rinsing the empty cans. “I don’t think he meant to, because he got this really surprised look right after he said it. But then when I asked about her, he told me she died five years ago in an automobile accident.” Her hands paused in the task, her face clouding. “Along with their son—he was named Charlie. He showed me a picture he carries in his wallet of all of them together. They looked so happy it made me want to cry.”

Amy gulped. Apparently the children had formed a tighter bond with Mr. Roper than she’d imagined. Her heart turned over in sympathy for the man, and for Bekah, who clearly cared about him. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah . . .” Bekah dropped the rinsed cans in the plastic bin they used for recycling. She crossed to the counter and fiddled with the little tin of chili powder. “Mom, there was something different about his son. You could see it in the picture. His face was . . . different.”

Amy frowned, confused. “Different how?”

“Kind of round and almost flattish. And his eyes were shaped funny, like this.” Bekah tugged the outside corners of her own eyes, lifting the lids slightly.

Amy paused midway between the counter and the oven, the casserole forgotten in her hands. “His son had Down Syndrome?”

“Is that what it is?”

“I think so.” Amy stepped to the stove and placed the beans in the oven. She turned the oven on and set the timer, then took out a package of cheese from the refrigerator. Her thoughts raced back to her first conversation with Mr. Roper. He’d indicated that the school in Weaverly had a good special-education program. And from the very first moments of meeting her family, he’d reached out to Parker. His kindness toward her son—toward all of them—made sense now. He knew what it was like to raise a child with a disability.

His child had been born with a medical condition, and then he’d lost him and the child’s mother. He’d suffered more deeply even than she. Father, he needs Your healing touch more than I’d imagined. In past prayers, Amy had asked God to move on Mr. Roper’s behalf, opening his heart to the Spirit’s guidance. But now, without conscious thought, her prayer changed. Help us find ways to bring joy to him. Help us remind him he isn’t alone, no matter what he’s lost.

“Mom?”

Amy opened her eyes and lifted her head to meet Bekah’s gaze.

“Mr. Roper asked if we were going to the town’s Fourth of July celebration next week. He said everybody in town goes, and that since we’re Weaverly residents we should go, too.”

Amy smiled and withdrew a knife to slice the cheese. “Well, we’re definitely Weaverly residents now, so I guess that means we’ll be going.”

Bekah let out a cheer, the sound welcome to Amy after her daughter’s days of long faces and sullen tones. “Can I go tell Parker and Adri?”

“Sure, and tell them dinner will be—”

Bekah pounded up the stairs before Amy could finish her instructions. She didn’t mind, though. It was nice to see Bekah excited about something. She’d have to mention the Fourth of July celebration to the others on Sunday when they met for worship—they might all want to go together and get better acquainted with their new neighbors.

The sounds of children’s happy voices drifted down the stairs, and Amy laughed softly to herself. Apparently the news of attending the town’s celebration appealed to Parker and Adrianna, too. Then she sobered, thinking about the man who lived next door. How heartbreaking to have only one child, and then for that child’s voice to be stilled forever.

She’d kept Bekah and Parker from visiting Mr. Roper too frequently so they wouldn’t wear out their welcome, but she changed her mind. He’d opened himself to them. They must be good for him. So in the future, she’d allow them more time with the orchard owner. Perhaps God had guided them here so the children could ease Mr. Roper’s loneliness.

Use us, Lord, for his good and Your glory. Amen.