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Jemima King lay full length on her bed with her face crammed into her pillow. The only light in her dark bedroom was a narrow yellow bar underneath the door.
There was a soft knock, and Jemima lifted her face.
“Who is it?”
“Mamm.”
Jemima hurriedly wiped her eyes. “Come in,” she murmured.
The door opened slowly and her mother appeared in it, framed in light. She crossed the distance between them and sat quickly on the bed.
She held out her arms wordlessly and Jemima went into them, sobbing.
“There, now,” her mother smiled, caressing her hair. “It’s been a hard day, I know.”
“Oh, Mamm, why does everything I do go so bad wrong?” Jemima cried. “I’m being sued for money I don’t have, and the reporter is back, and now Mark has done what he shouldn’t, and gotten hurt—and it’s all my fault!”
Her mother made a soft hush sound. “None of those things are your fault,” Rachel soothed. “They’re not your fault—my poor girl. You will understand that better when you’re not so upset.” She kissed Jemima’s cheek and smiled. “And everything is going to be all right.”
Jemima shook her head. “I don’t see how. I wish I could go back and – and undo everything I’ve done this summer!”
Her mother took her hand. “See now—the Englischer sued you because he chose money over telling the truth. That young reporter is back because he wants another story. And Mark is hurt because he did what he should not have done. He lost his temper, and forgot who he is, and struck another human being with his fist. Mark is the one who will have to repent of that, my Mima. Not you.”
“But he did it because of me,” Jemima whispered.
“That may be,” her mother replied, “but you didn’t tell him to do it.”
“No,” Jemima shuddered. “It was awful! They were hitting each other and fighting like wild animals! But even that wasn’t the worst,” Jemima sobbed. “Daed chased Brad Williams all the way to the fence, and over the fence, and across the field next door, and – and I think he would have hit him, if he’d caught him!” She broke down into fresh tears, and her mother looked up at the ceiling.
“Your father –” she paused, coughed, and began again – “your father also did what he should not have done. He lost his temper, too, and forgot who he is.” She looked down at her daughter’s face tenderly. “When you have a daughter of your own, my Mima, you will understand better.”
Jemima grew quiet in her mother’s arms. “I forgot, too, Mamm,” she whispered. “I was upset with Daed, for treating Brad Williams with such anger. But, I was angry with Brad Williams myself, and I said mean, hateful things to him. I called him a liar, and a user, and said he was evil, and it wasn’t even the first time! Then I – I told him to go away, and never come back!”
She broke down into tears again. “But he said he wanted to help me. He makes me so angry sometimes, that I forget how much he’s done for me. That he gave up a million dollars—so I could have it!”
Rachel’s face grew grim. “I think that young man helps himself first, Mima,” she replied carefully. “He’s here because he wants a story for his paper. He told you that—didn’t he?”
Jemima stared over her mother’s shoulder and said nothing.
“I know that you’re on your rumspringa, Mima,” her mother said gently, “but just because you’re free to do what you please, doesn’t mean that you’re free of the consequences that will come from what you choose. I don’t know what you feel toward that boy, Mima, if you feel anything. But I do know this: That boy is an Englischer. He lives in a different world. He thinks differently from you, he believes different things, and he wants different things. If you lose sight of that, you could be very bad hurt.”
She smoothed Jemima’s rumpled hair back from her brow. “That’s what we worry about, your father and I. We want you to be happy, Mima. But more than that, we want you to be useful, and good, and right with God. The man you choose can help you be all those things.
“Or hinder you.”
Jemima said nothing and kept her face buried in her mother’s shoulder. Rachel kissed her again and then patted her shoulder.
“Come downstairs, and talk to your father. You owe him an apology, too, you know, after the things you said to him.”
Jemima nodded wordlessly.
“I was surprised, Jemima, I have to say,” her mother chided gently. “I’ve never heard you talk to your father in such a tone before. He loves you very much, but you’ve hurt him with your thoughtless words.”
Jemima fought back tears. “I’m sorry, Mamm,” she whispered. “It’s just that – I was scared what could have happened if Daed had caught Brad Williams. Would he have hit him, like Mark? It frightened me, and it made me angry, too. Daed should ask me before he – before he – just decides!”
“Your father doesn’t trust reporters,” Rachel answered, “and he’s wise. Most of them have been nothing but trouble to us. That boy was trespassing, and not for the first time. When your father arrived, he was fighting Mark! He’s behaved very strangely all along, Mima. Your father was right to chase that boy away—he’s only trying to protect you.”
Jemima fell silent, and her mother took her hand. “Come downstairs now, Mima. You have something important to say to your father.”
Her mother put an arm around her waist, and Jemima allowed herself to be led out and downstairs. Her mother accompanied her to the door of her father’s study but left her at the door.
Jemima looked after her wistfully, but turned the knob and went in.
Her father was sitting in the big red chair. He was leaning forward, with his elbows resting on his knees, but he looked up as she entered.
It only needed one glance at his wounded expression to make Jemima break down.
“I’m sorry, Daed,” she whimpered.
Her father stood quickly and opened his arms. Jemima ran into them.
“I’m sorry I said such mean things to you,” she cried. “I didn’t mean them. I was just – scared that you were going to hit Brad Williams—like Mark!”
Jacob closed his big arms around his daughter and smiled his forgiveness, but his eyes remained troubled. “I lost my temper, it’s true,” he told her. “That was wrong of me, and I’ll have to repent—again.” He paused, and a dissatisfied expression flitted briefly across his face.
He returned to his daughter. “But that makes no difference for you. It isn’t right for you to disrespect your father, Jemima King,” he added firmly, looking her in the eyes. “You did wrong, and you’ll have to be punished for it. Your mother and I, we’ve – we’ve decided that you will not attend any Sings or frolics for two weeks. It will give you a chance to think about your behavior.”
Jemima nodded, and hugged him. “All right, Daed,” she murmured.
Jacob relaxed visibly, as if he’d been worried. He tightened his arms around his daughter, and closed his eyes.
“Now run off to bed,” he told her. “Morning comes early, and you’ve had a hard day.”
Jemima smiled, and kissed him, and slipped out; and after she had gone, Rachel appeared in the doorway, entered, and closed the door after her.
“How did it go?” she asked softly.
Jacob frowned. “She apologized, and I know she meant it.”
Rachel smiled. “I knew she would. She adores you, Jacob.”
Jacob did not seem comforted. “I was never worried about that part.” He frowned, and bit his thumbnail.
Rachel looked a question. “Why, are you worried about something else?”
Jacob looked up at his pretty wife. “Yes. I’m worried that she cried about that Englischer boy all day, but only asked once about Mark!”
