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The next day, Jemima rose early, about an hour before her usual time. She turned up the lamp in the freezing kitchen; built and lit a fire in her mother’s cast iron stove, and the living room fireplace; and began to make breakfast. By the time her parents came downstairs, the kitchen was alight, cozy warm, and filled with the aroma of coffee and frying bacon.
“Well, well! What’s this?” Jacob asked her, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “It looks like our Mima has come back to live with us.”
Rachel opened up a cabinet and took out a frying pan. “Don’t discourage her, Jacob. She’ll be doing this in her own kitchen soon enough.”
Jemima went pink, and smiled faintly, and poured out a cup of steaming coffee for her father. As she leaned over to give it to him, she asked lightly:
“Daed, I was wondering—”
He nodded. “Yes, here it comes!”
“—I was wondering, if today might be a better day for you to drive me to the bishop’s house.”
Jacob looked first at his daughter, and then at his wife, who was staring at him with a look that required no translation. He appeared to deliberate.
“Well – I might.” He rubbed his chin with one hand. “I suppose I could find an hour or so to spare.”
He was rewarded by his daughter casting herself on his chest with a display of surprising gratitude, and by another, much more pleasant look from his wife – the one that told him he was a wise man.
Bishop Lapp was one of the youngest men to ever rise to that position in the local district. He was a big, tall man, with a shock of bright blonde hair beginning to go gray at the temples, and bright blue eyes.
He was splitting wood in his front yard when their buggy rolled up to his driveway. He paused, and wiped his brow with one arm, and leaned back on his axe handle to await them. His breath was like smoke in the chilly air.
Jemima peeped out of the buggy anxiously. She had seen Bishop Lapp before, but had never spoken to him, and had never been to his house. She looked him up and down, and felt a flicker of anxiety. He was as huge a man as her father. Maybe even a little taller. And he looked busy.
But a quick scan of the front of his house helped calm her flutters. A kind-looking brown-haired woman stepped out onto the porch behind them and waved. A little daughter of about five or six clung to her skirts.
Maybe Joseph Lapp wasn’t quite as daunting he looked.
They climbed down out of the buggy, and Jacob held out his hand for her, and they walked together to greet the newly-minted bishop.
“Hello, Brother King,” the bishop said pleasantly. He extended a hand, and her father shook it warmly. “It’s good to see you and your daughter again. Would you like to come in, and have something hot to eat and drink?”
“Thank you, bishop,” her father told him. “My daughter was very anxious to come and see you today. You’ve heard all the things that’ve happened to our daughter – how she got tangled up with the Englisch, and fell into so much money. Well, she says she wants to close the book on the whole thing, and give the rest of the money to the community fund.”
The man’s bright eyes moved to her face, and Jemima quickly dropped her own to the ground.
But the bishop’s voice was kind. “That’s a very generous offer,” he said softly, and with a tinge of surprise. “Please, go on in, and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be there directly, and then we can talk.”
He turned, and called to the woman on the porch. “Katie, we have company!”
The woman stood back and opened the door invitingly, and they hurried across the snowy yard and into the warmth of the big house.
A few minutes later they were warming their hands with cups of steaming hot chocolate and nibbling off plates filled with syrup-drizzled biscuits, cheese, and ham.
The bishop came in, wiped snow off his boots, and after he’d shrugged out of his coat and muffler, his wife gave him a cup of coffee and he folded himself up in a chair opposite the couch.
He took a long, appreciative sip, and trained those blue eyes on them. “Now, you say that Jemima here wants to give money to the fund. I can take care of that, if you’re sure you want to do it, Jemima?”
Jemima raised scared eyes to his face. She nodded mutely.
“Well, then, you can come to my study and we can take care of it.”
Jemima spoke up quickly. “Daed, I’d like to talk to the bishop privately – just for a minute,” she told her father apologetically.
Jacob looked at her in surprise, but lowered himself back onto the couch. “Very well then, Mima,” he told her.
The bishop stood up and extended a hand. “Come then.”
Jemima followed the bishop into a large room with a big desk, a bigger chair, and lots of wall shelves, all crammed with books. The bishop pulled out a chair for her, and closed the door behind them.
He walked around to the desk, sat down in the chair and smiled a bit quizzically.
Jemima set her mouth. “I came to give you a check,” she said, and reached into her purse. “It’s all made out to the community fund – for whoever may need it to pay their emergency bills.”
She extended the check in a small hand, and the bishop took it. He placed a pair of glasses over his nose, read the check, and lifted startled eyes to hers.
“This check is for—”
“I know how much it is,” Jemima told him firmly. “I-I made a promise to God, and I’m here to fulfill it.”
The bishop shook his head slightly, and then nodded. “Very well – if you’re sure. I’ll make out a receipt to show that the fund has received the money. I’ll deposit it in the fund’s bank account tomorrow morning. And I have to say,” he added incredulously, “you’ve been extremely generous, young lady!”
He scribbled out a receipt, and handed it to Jemima over the desk. Then he looked a question, and Jemima went red.
“I-I also wanted to ask a favor of you,” she said, in a small voice.
“Ask.”
She lifted pleading eyes to his face. “First, will you promise me that this will be – just between us?”
He nodded. “All right. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I wanted to ask you to pray for a – a friend of mine,” she urged. “This friend doesn’t believe in God, but wants to learn more about Him, and – and about becoming Amish. Will you pray for them, bishop? Pray hard?”
The vivid blue eyes softened, and the bishop nodded. “Certainly, if you want. Would your friend, by any chance, be a young man?”
Jemima lowered her eyes, but could feel her face going bright red.
“I’m not asking you to tell me anything more,” the bishop said gently. “It’s just that I once knew a young lady who also had a friend. Her friend didn’t believe in God, either, and she hoped that he might come around, one day.
“But instead of her friend coming to God, it happened just the opposite. Her friend pulled her away from God, and away from her family. She got into more trouble than she could handle, and was very lucky to get away from him in the end.”
Jemima kept her eyes glued to her hands, and said nothing.
The bishop sighed, and took off his glasses, and massaged his eyes with his fingers. “I’ll pray for your friend, Jemima. But I’ll also pray that God gives you the wisdom to put Him first.”
“Thank you, bishop,” she said, in a tiny voice.
He sighed again. “You’re a very unselfish young lady, I can see that,” he said, eyeing the check. “But sometimes you can be too unselfish for your own good. If your friend really is your friend, he won’t ask you to do anything that’s against what you believe.
“Remember that, Jemima.”
“I will, bishop,” she replied, in a voice almost too faint to be heard.
