Dear Diary,
I know it’s been weeks since my last entry, and I plan to be more consistent in the future. I’m not sure why, but I do feel better when I’ve written down my thoughts, even if they’re bothersome. And painful. Yesterday I had a seriously painful day, but today, and moving forward, things are going to be different.
After talking with Nelson yesterday and embarrassing myself by saying I was bossy, ugly, and frumpy, like Junia had said, I realized that I could change one out of three of those things. I can’t do anything about my looks. I don’t even understand how I’m frumpy since I think I look like most Amish women my age. True, I’m not as thin and graceful as Junia, but I don’t look like a middle-aged frau either. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. And as for being ugly . . . well, not much I can do there either, other than accept it. Looks aren’t everything. Besides, God sees the heart, and my heart has been in a dark place lately.
What I can do is try not to be bossy. Or at least let up a little. I’m not sure how since a lot of what I do is automatic, but there must be a way. It would help if Junia didn’t have to be told what to do every minute of the day. If she just took some initiative—
Ella paused. She was doing exactly what she had promised herself last night she wouldn’t do—continually blame Junia. She crossed out the last line.
Later today we’re meeting with Wendy Pearson at her office for conflict mediation. I’m disappointed in myself for being part and parcel of Daed having to get a lawyer to help our family relationships. That had to be embarrassing for him. But I’m glad he didn’t go to the bishop. I think that would probably be worse. At least this way no one in our church will know that we’re not getting along.
She paused again. Writing things down was really giving her clarity. Were she and her family being secretive? Should Daed have gone to the bishop first? He would have had to if Wendy weren’t available, or even around. There was that time she was in Daed’s office too. She frowned. Was there something going on between the two of them?
Ella shook her head. What a ridiculous thought. Wendy wasn’t Amish and Daed would never be interested in an English woman, for friendship or romance. He was just doing what he thought was best, and that was for Lawyer Wendy to help them.
I promised myself and God last night that I would listen to what Wendy said and do what needed to be done to get Junia and I back on track. I don’t think we’ll ever be close because our personalities are too different. But we do need to get along, especially since we’ll be living and working together until she gets married. Which will probably be sooner rather than later if Nelson’s right. We also owe it to Daed. And Mamm. If she were here, she wouldn’t like that we were fighting either.
Ella closed her diary, a lump in her throat. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think about her mother, even though the memories of her were distant. She’d forgotten the sound of Mamm’s voice long ago, but she still remembered what she looked like—the kindness in her eyes, the cuddles she gave at night before tucking her and Junia in the bed they shared. Ella smiled a little, thinking about how she and Junia had leaned on each other after Mamm passed. When had everything gone wrong? She’d assumed things became bad when they moved to Marigold, but now that she thought about it, she and Junia had been fighting for years before that. Just not as much, since Aenti Cora and Aenti Tabitha wouldn’t abide the arguments and had grounded them both numerous times during their teen years.
She was about to put the diary away when she thought of something else.
PS: I really misjudged Nelson. He was so considerate yesterday, even though I was trespassing. I like seeing this side of him, and I’m not sure why he is usually irritable around me. Maybe because I’ve been cross around him. I want that to change too.
She tucked her diary underneath her mattress and headed downstairs to wait for the taxi that would be arriving soon to take them to Wendy’s office. She’d found out last night that Nelson was renting stable space from Daed and was surprised her father hadn’t mentioned it. At least Nelson was doing the sensible thing and making sure his horse had adequate shelter.
There I go again, thinking about Nelson. It was hard not to now that they were neighbors. But as she tossed and turned last night, reliving the mortifying exchange about her bossy frumpiness, she decided she couldn’t, and shouldn’t, avoid him. She had to go back to being business minded, and once he got his butcher shop up and running, they could discuss ways to share customer bases. Eventually she would stop noticing his good looks and see him as any other man—and possible business associate. Not a partnership. Just focus on business. That was the one successful thing in her life right now.
She walked into the living room. Junia was sitting on the couch, wearing her coat and writing in her notebook—it was undoubtedly another letter to Malachi. Ella looked out the window. No taxi yet. “Where’s Daed?”
No response.
Ella shook her head. At least with the silent treatment there was less of a chance either of them would say something and start fighting, so she was glad for that. But it seemed immature to her. And infuriating, although she tamped that emotion way down inside. She had to fulfill her promise. Losing her temper was unacceptable.
Daed came into the living room, a nervous expression on his face. He also looked a little different, and Ella realized he’d changed clothes. Odd, since the only difference between his work clothes and his current outfit was a trip through the washing machine and the clothesline. But there wasn’t any need for him to have changed. He hadn’t gotten his other clothing dirty at all.
A honk sounded outside, and Ella grabbed her coat and slipped into her black tennis shoes. Yesterday’s light frosting of snow remained, and it was even colder today.
As they made their way out the door, Daed stopped them. “Danki for not giving me trouble about this.”
Ella and Junia turned around. She could see how important this was to Daed.
“I think this is going to help all of us.” He opened the door wider. “I pray that it does.”
Junia didn’t respond. She turned and went to the car.
Ella heard him sigh and she touched his shoulder. “I pray it does too.”
She waited for him to put on his coat, but when she saw him wrap a blue-and-black plaid flannel scarf around his neck, she asked, “Is that new?”
He nodded and shoved his feet into his boots.
“Where did you get it?” She leaned forward, taking a closer look at the simple scarf. “It looks handmade.”
Daed cleared his throat. “Don’t want to be late,” he said, rushing past her and out the door.
She shut the door behind them. He was right. They shouldn’t be tardy for their first meeting with Wendy. Hopefully it would be the only one.
* * *
Wendy glanced at the clock for the third time in the past five minutes. She’d never been this nervous before meeting clients, and she would see Barnabas and his daughters at two o’clock. Maybe some of the anxiety came from her third meeting with Harold, Judy, and Claude. At the end of the hour, she ended up referring them to another lawyer in the Columbus area, explaining that she couldn’t help them. She wasn’t sure anyone could. Some people loved to live in conflict and chaos, for some bizarre reason. At one point she thrived on the conflict because it brought in clients and money. But now she was weary of it all.
She looked around her office. Other than today, she hadn’t been here in two weeks—the longest she’d ever gone without working, other than the nine-month sabbatical she’d taken. She hadn’t missed a minute of the commute to Barton, which was nothing compared to getting to her office in Manhattan or dealing with clients. She had a few easy ones, but even helping them hadn’t given her the same satisfaction it used to. And she’d decided to stop taking divorce cases and clients who wanted to sue each other. She didn’t have that in her anymore.
Wendy heard voices outside the door of her office and took one last look at the conflict management notes on her desk, the scriptures front and center. She said a quick prayer as the door opened and Barnabas, Junia, and Ella entered her office.
As she usually did with her clients, she visually sized them up in a few seconds. Barnabas looked trepidatious, as if he still had doubts that he and his daughters should be here. She also noticed he was wearing the scarf she made. He slipped it off and stuffed it in his pocket. She hid a smile and turned her attention to the women. Ella seemed more determined than hesitant, and from Junia’s strained expression, it was clear she didn’t want to be here.
Barnabas said she’d have her work cut out for her. I sure do.
After they exchanged greetings, she motioned for them to join her at a medium-sized round table in the corner of the room. Sometimes it was better to discuss sensitive issues from a less formal position than behind her desk. She’d typed up the list of scriptures she and Barnabas made and had a copy in front of each chair. She scooped up her materials and sat down between the two women.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Wendy said. Then she set ground rules for their meeting. No outbursts, no talking over each other, along with other boundaries that were crucial in order to reach their goal. “I’m a big believer in getting down to business, so we’re going to start our conflict mediation session reviewing these scriptures.”
Junia looked over the list but didn’t pick it up. Ella studied hers, and Barnabas did a quick read since he was already familiar with them.
“I know all these,” Junia said.
“Do you have them memorized?” Ella asked.
“Of course you do,” she mumbled, angling her body away from her sister and crossing her arms. “Perfect Ella.”
Wendy gauged Barnabas’s and Ella’s reaction to Junia’s barb. Ella pressed her lips together and focused on the list. Barnabas stared at his lap.
“We should start on a positive note.” Wendy picked up the paper. “First Thessalonians 5:11. ‘Therefore comfort each other and edify one another, just as you also are doing.’ These are good words to keep in mind when conflict arises. Sometimes it can be avoided with a kind word or two.”
“What if there’s nothing kind to say?” Junia peered at Ella.
Anger flashed across Ella’s face, but she immediately hid it.
In the first five minutes of their meeting, Wendy could already see an issue, and it might be the major one. These two sisters were angry. Definitely at each other, and probably at their father too. It would take more than one session to get to the root of the problem, if the Yoders were willing to do the work. For the moment she needed to do some triage. “All right, we’ll skip that part for now. Ella, what do you think is the main problem between you and your sister?”
Ella blinked, as if surprised at the forthright question.
“Remember, you can speak honestly here. No judgment.”
After a pause she said, “To be honest, my sister is lazy.”
Junia’s face resembled a big prune. “And you’re—”
“It’s still Ella’s turn to speak.” Wendy held up her hand and turned a stern eye on Junia. “You’ll get your chance.”
Junia opened her mouth, closed it, and sank back into the chair.
“She didn’t used to be lazy,” Ella said. “There. I found something nice to say.”
Barnabas’s head fell against his fingers.
Now Wendy could see a second problem. A man as mild and benevolent as Barnabas had two very strong-willed daughters to contend with.
“Okay, Ella. You’ve defined the problem as you see it. Now, Junia, what do you think the problem is?”
“All she does is nitpick and boss me around. And she always gets her way.”
“I always get my way?” Ella exclaimed. “Who doesn’t have to do a single thing around the house anymore? Or at the store—”
“I never wanted to work in a store!”
Wendy held up her hands. “Ladies, remember the rules—”
“No one asked me if I wanted to move here or leave Lancaster,” Junia cried, ignoring Wendy. “I was just told what to do and expected to agree.”
“Junia, why didn’t you say anything?” Barnabas asked.
“Because it wouldn’t make a difference. And as it turned out, Ella was right. We’re a lot better off here than we would have been in Lancaster.”
“I would have found a job,” Barnabas said. “We didn’t have to move.”
She turned to her father. “You don’t need to be standing on a factory floor eight hours a day. Your knees couldn’t have taken it.”
Ella’s eyes widened. “You actually care about Daed’s knees?”
“I care about a lot of things.”
“You don’t act like you do,” Ella mumbled.
For some reason, Wendy felt that she needed to let the argument play out despite the high emotions. If it escalated any further, she’d step in.
“And why should I? I can’t do anything right. I never have. I’m either too slow, too messy, or it’s not done the way Ella would do it.” Her voice cracked as she glared at her sister. “You wanted to be in charge of everything? Fine, you’re in charge. Now you’re even going to be in charge of my dates with Malachi.” She burst into tears, jumped up from the table, and left the room.
Uh-oh. Wendy hadn’t anticipated that. She moved to get up. “I can go check on her—”
“No,” Ella said, already standing. “I will.” She hurried off.
Wendy glanced at Barnabas. He looked defeated. And worried. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have stepped in and stopped the argument early on. I usually do. Something held me back.”
“It’s okay.” Barnabas sat up straighter, his expression changing to a more positive one. “For the first time, Junia is being forthcoming about how she feels. She hasn’t done that for years. She’s right about me and Ella not consulting her about moving to Lancaster, at least not until the deal to buy the grocery store was almost done. She did mention a time or two that she was homesick, and so was I. But she admitted she liked Marigold too.”
“And what she said about Ella? Was that true too?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. In the past she’s hurled insults at Ella, and those haven’t been true. But Ella is a take-charge person. She’s good at what she does, and she is picky. I didn’t realize Junia felt that she didn’t measure up. And I always gave in to her because I felt guilty for uprooting her from our home.” He started to nod. “Wendy, I think this was a good thing. At least I found out how my daughters really feel. I never fully knew until now.”
“Had you ever asked them?” Wendy posed the question gently.
“No, and that’s on me. I guess I hoped they would figure things out on their own. They’re adults. I didn’t figure they needed me solving their problems.”
Wendy smiled. “They need you, Barnabas. Not in the same way they did when they were kids, but they do.” Her throat thickened. “I didn’t realize how much I needed my father until he was gone.”
“I’m sorry. Losing someone you love is tough.”
She blinked away the tears, surprised and a little annoyed they’d appeared at all. Since moving in with Mom, she’d worked through her latent grief over her father’s death over three years ago. But there were still times when the thought of him made her weepy.
“I apologize,” she said, shuffling her papers. “I don’t usually get emotional with my clients. It undermines my credibility.” Her wits gathered, she looked at him. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay if it does,” he said gently. “As you can see, I’m used to emotional women.”
She couldn’t help but grin a little at his smile.
He grew serious. “My wife, Evelyn, would cry at the drop of a hat. Sad, happy, angry . . . the tears would appear. Not that she would lose control or anything. She just cried easily. And that was fine with me.”
This was the first time he’d brought up his late wife. And although she knew she shouldn’t pry, she couldn’t help but ask, “What was she like?”
He paused, staring at a still life print of gerbera daisies on the opposite wall. “Imagine Ella’s brains and Junia’s free spirit. That’s who she was—a mix of both, but still her own person. It was love at first sight for me.” He chuckled. “It took her a while longer.”
“How long?”
“Seven years, give or take. Met her when her family moved to our church district from another one in Lancaster. We were both thirteen, and I knew she was the one for me. So I understand how Junia fell hard for Malachi. I just hope he doesn’t hurt her. I guess all parents want to spare their children heartache.”
“I suppose so. I can’t exactly speak from personal experience. I’ve never been married. Never had kids. I worked most of my life to be a lawyer.” She glanced around the office. This, along with a decent nest egg, was all she had to show for it.
“I hope you don’t mind a personal question,” Barnabas said.
“We’re talking about personal things, so go right ahead.”
“Do you have any regrets?”
His question was almost too intrusive, and she was tempted to tell him no and move on to more surface conversation while they waited for his daughters to come back. But that would be a lie. Not that she’d been the most honest person all her life. She’d lied in court—what lawyer hadn’t? Over the years she’d lied to her parents more times than she could count, mostly so they wouldn’t worry about her or pry into her life. Most of all, she’d lied to herself.
“There was a time when I thought all I needed was my job. I let it consume me so there wasn’t room for anything else, even if I wanted there to be. And for a while, it was enough. The money, the accolades, the challenge of making partner, the competitive spirit in the courtroom. I wasn’t like a lot of women who wanted a husband and family. I wanted to be a career woman. And I reached that goal. But”—she blew out a breath—“I felt empty inside. And it wasn’t a new feeling either. I always had. Like there was something missing in my life, but I didn’t know what it was.”
“Did you figure it out?”
“Yes. But not until I moved here. Living in Marigold is the exact opposite of the way I thought I wanted my life to be. I enjoy the slower pace. The long walks with Monroe have been good for my soul . . . and my waistline. I’ve reconnected with my faith, something I ignored since the moment I left for college. My relationship with my mother has never been better. Most importantly, I don’t miss anything about New York or being a lawyer.”
Barnabas didn’t reply.
Wendy flinched. She’d said too much, basically spilling her heart and soul to this man who probably just wanted a simple yes or no answer to his question. “Sorry,” she said, jumping up from her chair and dashing to the coffee machine. “I’m sure that’s more than you wanted to know. Coffee?”
He shifted in his chair. “No, thank you.”
She quickly poured herself a cup and sat back down, annoyed that her professionalism kept slipping away. She took a gulp, hid the fact she’d scalded her tongue, and looked at her notes. “While we’re waiting for your daughters to return, there are some things we can go over that can help you with conflict at home.”
“Uh, sure. What are those?”
Time to stick to the task and keep her personal feelings to herself. Barnabas was a client. Not a friend . . . although, in all honesty, she wished he could be.