13
On Monday morning, Bethany made pancakes for Sammy and Luke while Rose finished packing for the trip to Philadelphia. Allen Turner stood patiently by the open trunk of his car, waiting for suitcases to appear. Mammi Vera stood beside the car, frowning at Allen Turner, standing vigil. She didn’t like him or trust him, but that was only because she thought he was creating trouble for Tobe. She couldn’t understand that he was trying to help him.
Rose was bustling around the kitchen, giving Bethany and Mim last-minute instructions for the inn.
“We’ll be fine, Rose,” Bethany said. “Besides, as long as this heat wave continues, we’re not going to get any new guests.”
“The weather is supposed to cool down,” Rose said. “I told Geena she could move into the house while I’m away if she’d like to stay longer.”
“Mammi Vera did not like hearing that!” Mim said, grinning. “She said Mom is turning Eagle Hill into a boardinghouse.”
“Allen Turner paid us for staying for the weekend,” Rose said, scribbling down some instructions on a piece of paper. “He insisted.” She glanced at Bethany, then stopped writing and straightened up, looking at Bethany for a long moment. “You look exhausted. Didn’t you sleep well?”
“Better not ask her that,” Luke said. “I told her she looked terrible and she snapped my head off.”
Bethany frowned at her brother. “I’m ready for this heat wave to break.”
Rose nodded. “It’s supposed to rain Tuesday or Wednesday. Here’s the phone number to reach me at Delia Stoltz’s. Leave a message and I’ll call back.” She put down the pencil and looked out the window. Tobe had returned from saying goodbye to Naomi, escorted by Galen, and went to wait by the car.
Galen came into the kitchen to say goodbye. “Better get going, Rose, if you want to beat traffic.” He looked at the boys wolfing down pancakes at the kitchen table. “You two, finish up with breakfast. I’ve got some fence repairing that’s waiting on you.”
The boys let out a whoop. Luke and Sammy were always glad to have something to do that involved hammering and making noise. Luke rolled up the last pancake, shoved it into his shirt pocket, and shot out the door so fast he made Bethany blink. Sammy followed, a little slower.
Rose smiled as she watched the boys run through the privet to Galen’s. She turned back to Bethany and Mim. “Listen, girls, we’ll try to get back to Eagle Hill as soon as we know what’s going to happen to Tobe.”
“Mom, do you think he’ll have to go to jail?” Mim asked.
Bethany saw Rose and Galen’s eyes meet over Mim’s head. Rose’s eyes said, This is so complicated. How do I answer?
Galen stepped in. “Tobe says he’s telling the truth. He’s confessing to any wrong he might have done. The rest is in God’s hands. God’s good hands.”
Rose shot him a grateful look.
It was strange, that wordless communication between a man and a woman who loved each other, the silent signal of caring, the way they checked in with each other. Would Bethany ever have that with someone? Or was she destined to make terrible choices? Like her father did. Like Tobe still was. Maybe it was a Schrock family trait. Fixed.
A few minutes later, Bethany and Mim waved to everyone in the car as it drove down the driveway. Galen went back to his farm. Watching the car turn onto the road, Bethany stroked Chase’s thick fur, trying to stamp down the worry she felt over Tobe.
“Bethany? Are you listening to me?”
She startled. She hadn’t even realized Mim was still beside her. “What?”
“I said I’m going to be up in my room working on my Mrs. Miracle column. It’s due for Tuesday’s edition and I’m way behind because of the community garden work. You can still drop it by the newspaper office, can’t you?”
“Yes, sure, I’ll take care of it. By the way, I’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“Where are you going? I thought you had to work at the Sisters’ House.”
“They canceled me for tomorrow—they have the Sisters’ Bee at Edith Fisher’s and it makes them nervous when I’m working in the house and they’re not around to supervise.”
“I thought Naomi wanted you to join that quilting bee.”
“I haven’t decided yet. Besides, I’m going on an errand with Geena tomorrow.” She hadn’t actually asked Geena yet, but she was hoping it would be all right. “I’ll be gone most of the day. You’ll be okay, won’t you?”
Mim looked a little worried. “All day? Watching Luke and Sammy all day long?” She scrunched up her face. “Luke? All day long? He doesn’t pay me any mind.”
“Galen and Jimmy can be in charge of those two.” She frowned. “Don’t you have a column to write?”
Mim ran up the porch steps and disappeared through the kitchen door.
Chase nudged Bethany’s hand, then stood there staring up at her with a worried look in his big round eyes. She bent down to rub his ears, his favorite thing. “Try not to fret, old pal. Tobe will be home soon.” But she wasn’t sure of that at all. She chewed on her lip, thinking. What if Jake went free and Tobe ended up in jail? Wouldn’t that just beat all?
Again the thought of Jake Hertzler filled Bethany with such a huge prickling of red spikes that she almost couldn’t catch her breath. She still couldn’t get her head around the news that he had stolen money from her father’s company. How could he do such awful things? Her family had been good to him. Anger added to anger.
It seemed to Bethany that a chain of actions, of people offering trust to Jake without expecting him to earn it, had resulted in the trouble they were facing. She should never have introduced Jake to her father . . . her father should not have given Jake access to so much of Schrock Investments before he knew him well—he had left the cat to guard the cream. Tobe shouldn’t have accepted Jake’s rationale about the diminishing money at the bank when he sensed something wasn’t adding up. Jimmy Fisher should never have trusted Jake so easily when buying a horse from him . . . and of course she was at fault for falling prey to Jake’s charms. The start of it all was Jake Hertzler.
All her life, Bethany was taught to love her enemies. Jake had become her first true enemy. How could she forgive him? It wasn’t over—Jake kept on hurting the people she loved. She hated him, even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to hate, that it was a sin. And she hated herself for harboring such darkness.
Standing there with the morning sun pouring down hard on her head, Bethany had half a mind to stomp to the phone shanty and call him. Why not? Why shouldn’t she? She would! She would call him and tell him just what she thought of him.
Hands shaking, she dialed the number for Jake’s cell.
As she waited to see if the number still worked, if it would connect, the first wave of doubt floated along. Maybe it wasn’t smart to call Jake and tell him off. Maybe she should hang up. Tell him off. Don’t tell him off. Back and forth she went, a battle between anger and good sense.
But the call connected and clicked right over to voice mail. She took a deep breath and banished those niggling doubts. “Jake, this is Bethany. Bethany Schrock. My brother Tobe came home. He told us what you did to my father. To all of us. He said you were trying to frame him by giving those books I found for you to that SEC lawyer.”
She felt a surge of fresh anger, invigorating anger. “How could you? How could you be so cruel to people who trusted you? My father, my brother, all the investors—and then Jimmy Fisher and that horse.” She was on a roll. It felt good to tell Jake just how she felt. She never had before. It felt so good! “You’re not going to get away with this, Jake. It’s catching up with you, but fast. People like you think they can do anything to Plain people because we won’t defend ourselves. Well, you’re wrong. Tobe’s going now to tell that SEC lawyer everything you’ve done.”
She stopped and sighed, the fight slipping away from her. “Shootfire! What’s the point? I’m just wasting my time. You don’t care about anybody but yourself.” She slammed the phone down and marched out of the shanty. She was officially done with Jake Hertzler.
If Mim had more time, she would ponder what was going on with her sister lately. One minute Bethany was fine, the next minute she was distant and preoccupied, the next—she was stomping mad. But there was no sense in stewing over Bethany’s mental state. At least not at this moment. Mim had to get her Mrs. Miracle column prepared for today’s deadline. Just saying the word filled her with a secret delight. She had a deadline!
Under her bed, she kept a box of the Mrs. Miracle columns that she cut from the Stoney Ridge Times newspaper. It wasn’t easy to collect them because her family didn’t subscribe to the newspaper. But . . . the sisters at the Sisters’ House did. They loved to read, anything and everything. Whenever Mim was over at their house, she would tiptoe around the house, hunting for the latest edition of the newspaper—which was never in the same place twice—tear out Mrs. Miracle’s column, fold it carefully, and tuck it into her dress pocket.
A few days ago, Ella came up behind her and caught her in the act. “Do you need scissors, dear?”
“Uh, no,” Mim said, cheeks burning. “Just something I wanted from the paper. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Ella was looking right at the Mrs. Miracle column in Mim’s hand, right at it! Then she gazed at her for a long, long moment with an inscrutable look on her face. “Well,” she said at last, “we are a reading household. Papa always wants us to have good reading material. But I don’t suppose he’ll miss one column.”
How strange, Mim noticed, for Ella to talk as if her papa was nearby. He must have passed decades ago. Then the wave of guilt hit—Mim hadn’t realized the sisters ever actually read the paper, only collected them, and she certainly never meant to lie to anyone, especially Ella. That, she decided right then and there, was the last time she would take the column from the sisters. She’d find another way to collect those columns. Maybe she could ask Bethany to get them from the receptionist at the newspaper.
In her bedroom, Mim pulled the manila envelope out from under her mattress and set the typewriter up on her desk. She dumped the letters on her bed.
Dear Mrs. Miracle,
I have been happily married to “Phillip” for ten years. We have a nice-sized farm where we grow beets.
Last spring, a neighbor lady, recently divorced, asked if Phillip would teach her how to use a tractor. At the end of each day, Phillip goes over to give her tractor lessons. It has been three months and he is still teaching her to drive a tractor. Each time I mention that the neighbor lady has had enough time to learn how to drive the tractor without help, he says she is a slow learner. He comes home late and is very tired. I am starting to feel suspicious that more is going on than driving lessons.
Gratefully,
Beet Farmer’s Wife
Dear Beet Farmer’s Wife,
If your neighbor lady hasn’t learned how to drive a tractor by now, she should consider getting a horse. It would be much easier for her.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Miracle
Dear Mrs. Miracle,
Nancy and I have been best friends since we were girls. We’ve never kept secrets from each other. Recently, I found out that Nancy’s husband, who is a dentist, is having an affair with his dental hygienist. Should I tell Nancy? Is it ever wrong to keep a secret?
Signed,
Wringing My Hands
Dear Wringing,
Would you want Nancy to tell you if she knew your husband were having an affair?
Sincerely,
Mrs. Miracle
Mim was particularly proud of that answer. It was inspired! She had no experience with marriage or affairs and didn’t want to mislead anyone. This answer put responsibility for the decision back on Wringing. Yes, that was an ideal answer, and she felt it would prove beneficial to her many readers. She always tried to choose letters for the newspaper column that many readers could relate to.
She opened another letter to read:
Dear Mrs. Miracle,
I thought I had something special with my girlfriend, but then she broke up with me.
I stayed in bed. I fought with friends who meant well. Once, I got into a fist fight that I knew I would lose just so I could feel a different type of pain, but nothing hurt more than my broken heart. It’s been seven months and I still have not moved on. I think I’m ready. I finally shaved. But my heart still races with anxiety when I think of losing my girlfriend. I mean, I was really in love.
Just Wondering What to Do Next
Mim felt stupefied by the letters about broken hearts. She thought she understood love—after all, she loved Danny Riehl and planned to marry him one day—but she did not understand what brokenheartedness felt like and she hoped she never would. It sounded awful. It sounded like a person’s heart had been ripped open, without anesthesia, and was bleeding inside his chest. Mim couldn’t imagine how dreadful it would be to have a truly broken heart. She set Just Wondering’s letter aside, unsure of how to answer.
She read through the stack of letters from last week’s pouch and placed them into piles on her bed: Answer, Don’t Answer, and I Have No Idea How to Answer.
She almost missed a small envelope at the bottom of the pile. It was from Stuck.
Sometimes I feel like leaky dynamite—just waiting for the spark to make it explode.
Yours truly,
Stuck
Mim leaned back against her bedframe, holding the letter in her hand. How in the world should Mrs. Miracle handle that?