An Amish Gift Page 2

  “That’s right. But don’t worry, because they probably have no desire to spend any time with you.”

  Jennie could see it would take only a few more words to bring on a full-blown argument. When exactly had this started, she wondered, the two of them being unable to exchange more than three sentences without fighting, usually over nothing. What was happening now was stressful for the entire family. Stressful and constant. They could be talking about the weather, and the result would be the same.

  It was hard to believe that Tim had once worshipped his father and that the two had spent every moment together when Shep came home from work at night. Just the sight of his little boy could always cheer him up, no matter how tough a day he’d had. He loved Willa, too, Jennie had never doubted that, but he’d always had a special connection with Tim.

  Then rambunctious little Tim turned into a teenager with the bad combination of a nasty temper and a short fuse. It was toward his father that much of his anger was directed. Though none of them ever discussed it, Jennie knew the reason. She was hoping that the change in their circumstances would somehow bring about other changes, not just for Tim and Shep but for all of them. When things got difficult, Willa tended to retreat to her room, unreachable behind the walls she erected with her headphones or computer. She said and showed little about what she saw going on around her or how she felt about any of it. Tim acted up, and more often as time went on. His grades slipped, and his old friends started coming around less. Last November, he had been suspended from school for getting into a brawl in the hallway. Jennie wasn’t sure how much more the threads holding the four of them together could take.

  She turned to her husband. “Should we start unloading the car?”

  He nodded. “I’ll just go take a look at the upstairs first.”

  He left, and Jennie started to follow him out.

  “Where are you going?” Willa asked.

  “To help Dad unpack. I’d like your help, too. There’s a lot to do.” She looked over at her son. “Help from both of you.”

  He gave a loud sigh of irritation but moved to follow her. Smiling, she stretched out a hand to his shoulder, but he quickly and deliberately moved out of her reach. She tried not to show how much his reaction hurt her. Instead, she gave him a broad smile. “What do you say we bring in the cooler first, and I can set out some cold drinks and snacks for everyone. It’ll help get our energy up!”

  She hoped the note of hysteria creeping into her voice was only in her imagination. Her family was not going to fall apart. She would not allow it.

  Chapter 2

  Scrubbing the last remaining empty drawer in the kitchen, Jennie thought for the hundredth time that it had been a very long while since anyone had cleaned the insides of any drawer, closet, or cabinet in this house.

  “I mean, really, people,” she muttered, imitating Willa’s teenage intonations. “So gross.”

  Finally deciding this was as good as it was going to get, she stood up and saw the sky growing light outside. After rinsing the rag she had used, she opened the back door far enough to hang it on the outside doorknob to dry, pausing to appreciate the quiet, mysterious moment as night transitioned into day. It had always been one of her favorite times when the children were small and she was the only one awake in the house, the family together, everything peaceful.

  It’s peaceful now, she couldn’t help adding to herself, because they were all in tiny separate rooms, so they couldn’t argue. She came back inside and knelt to pat Scout on the head. He had joined her in the kitchen when she had gotten out of bed an hour ago, only too glad to keep her company. She had been unable to sleep, consumed by all the things to wash and fix. Ever since they’d arrived eight days before, she had felt almost frantic, unable to decide what needed doing most. It was important to get the children’s bedrooms set up so they would be settled in before school started. At the same time, she and Shep needed to get all the boxes unpacked and cleared out, and the kitchen had to be dealt with so the kids could have a welcoming place to eat or hang out. The entire house, it seemed, needed an overhaul. Yet her daily plans were always upended by some new problem, some roadblock that demanded her immediate attention. Not to mention such time-consuming necessities as registering the kids for school, filling out an ocean of forms, and scheduling appointments for everything from the cable company to the new pediatrician for school physicals. On mornings like these, she would attack a random small task that she knew she could complete, simply to have the satisfaction of seeing a task through to the end.

  “Okay, Scout,” she said, “that’s one more thing cleaned and one more box about to be unpacked.”

  He yawned.

  “You have very high expectations, you know that?”

  In a corner, she found the carton marked Kitchen—Odds and Ends, and removed the items inside, everything from an old-fashioned eggbeater, chopsticks, and extra wooden spoons to an apple corer. As she was breaking down the box, she glanced at the old wall clock. Six-thirty already. How had that happened? She hastened upstairs to Tim, trying not to think about how tiny and dark his room was. It was an improvement over his prior sleeping arrangement back in Lawrence, the foldout couch in their living room. They’d had only two bedrooms in that house, so it was the best arrangement they could come up with. She had to believe that a dank little bedroom of his own was better than none. If only they could afford to paint, it would make such a difference. But that would have to wait.

  “Honey, time to get up.” She directed her words to the long lump beneath the sheet. No part of him was visible, his head hidden beneath the pillow.

  She repeated herself more loudly.

  “Nnnuuhhh …” The lump moved closer to the wall, trying to get away from the sound of her voice.

  This had long been the usual morning procedure on a school day. She had to spend a good five minutes coaxing him awake. Even when he finally got out of the bed, he refused to look at her or speak, just stumbled past. She had given up on what he clearly considered outrageous demands, such as the idea that he should say good morning. From his room, she went next door to Willa’s; her school bus came later, but she needed more time to get dressed than her brother. Waking up Willa was usually easier; she might even smile as she was coming to consciousness before recalling that she was no longer displaying affection to her parents if she could help it. Today, though, she remembered, as she gave her mother only a brief glare.

  Jennie retreated to the kitchen, setting out bowls, spoons, and a gallon of milk. Eventually, Tim appeared in jeans and a T-shirt, his hair uncombed. He said nothing, just yanked open the cabinet where he knew he would find cereal and slammed the box down on the table as he collapsed into a chair.

  “Good morning.”

  He didn’t respond to his mother’s voice, only hunched down even farther as he poured cereal into a bowl.

  “You’ll take the bus home after school?”

  He reached for the milk, shooting her a look that indicated the answer was obvious.

  “Well, maybe there’s a team or a club or something after school,” she said. “Something that might interest you.”

  “Not only is there nothing in this stupid school that interests me, but I’d like to know how I could get home, since there’s nobody to drive me.” He began hurriedly gulping down big spoonfuls.

  “Maybe ask someone …” Her voice trailed off. He was right, of course. He barely knew anyone at the school, and it would be tough to find someone willing to give him a ride. She was also forgetting that the houses were more spread apart around here than in Lawrence; there, it was easier to find someone who lived nearby.

  She gave him an encouraging smile. “After today it’ll be different. Dad’ll have his truck, and I’ll have the car all day, so I can get you.”

  “Oh, goody,” he said, getting up and grabbing his books. “I can get my mommy to drive me around.”

  He stomped out of the room, and she heard the front door slam, hard. As if
on cue, Willa entered the kitchen.

  “What’s his problem?” She slid into a chair, reaching for the cereal box. “Like there was ever a minute when he didn’t have one.”

  Jennie stood there, watching Willa repeat the same procedure as her brother. Why was it, she wondered, that with her family, breakfast was always something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

  “So what’s on tap today at school?” Jennie asked in a hopeful voice.

  Her daughter gave a mirthless laugh. “More boring classes, more boring kids. More boredom, basically.”

  “It will improve, you know. Please just give it some time and keep an open mind.”

  “ ‘Keep an open mind.’ Do you hear yourself?” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a brush, which she pulled through her long dark hair with one hand as she continued to eat with the other. “Mom, this school is the worst. You’re making us go to this horrible place, so we are. Don’t pretend it’s going to be good. It’s not.” She stood, slung her backpack over one shoulder, and started out.

  “Have a great day, honey. I love you,” Jennie called to her retreating back.

  A desultory wave was the reply.

  She cleared the table. Shep was asleep, planning to get up at eight; he hadn’t come home from the shop until after midnight. This morning they were going together to buy him a small used truck. He had been taking the car, unless she needed it. On those days, she would drop him off at the store and pick him up at the end of the day. They had known it would be impossible to exist here with one car and had decided it made more sense to get him something with room to transport bikes and other equipment if necessary. They hadn’t expected to put off buying the truck for this long, but Howland’s Bicycles and Repairs was taking up every minute that Shep didn’t spend working on the house.

  Jennie had yet to see the inside of the shop. He had allowed her to drop him outside, claiming he wanted to organize a bit first. From inside the car, she would try to peer into the store’s darkened windows, hoping to see beyond the few bicycles there, but her attempts were useless. The windows needed cleaning, and there were boards of some kind behind the display bikes, blocking what was behind them. It all made her very nervous. She knew full well that being organized wasn’t something her husband particularly cared about; it meant that he didn’t want to upset her with the reality of whatever he had found there. Given Shep’s sensitivity to his work problems over the years, however, she kept her fears to herself. Her goal, as she reminded herself numerous times a day, was to support his efforts at this endeavor. So far, all she knew was that he was utterly exhausted and in no way looked like an excited new business owner.

  This kind of thinking won’t lead anywhere good, she told herself. She grabbed the dog’s leash from a hook near the front door. “Come on, boy, let’s go.”

  Scout was already by her side, barking and jumping up and down in excitement at the sight of the leash. They set off at a brisk pace in the warm September morning. Jennie had always taken Scout for a long morning walk. Here, they went to the end of the street and turned back onto the main road so they could go past the beautiful fields of the Amish farms. She enjoyed the peace of the cows and horses scattered about, the dogs and chickens, the occasional passing buggy.

  “Could you live on a farm like these people?” she asked Scout, who trotted along beside her. “Nah, you’re not really a farm kind of dog.” She paused. “I do give you the benefit of the doubt, but you’ve never shown any interest.”

  As usual, she started out with the intention of walking fast enough to get her heart rate up, hoping it would help her shed those ten pounds she had been battling for as long as she could remember. Invariably, she would quickly get tired and give up on her resolution so she could enjoy the scenery. Now she slowed her pace, and Scout slowed as well.

  “So, when are the kids going to settle into school?” she asked him. “I figured they wouldn’t like it just on principle. Please tell me I’m right and they’ll stop hating it at some point.”

  Silence.

  “That’s true—it’s not as if I’m sending them to prison. These are perfectly nice schools. I only hope they find some friends. Even one friend each would be fine.”

  When the children had been little, she recalled, they’d had many friends, all those children in the neighborhood. She thought of them playing ball, riding bicycles along the narrow sidewalks. Tim had been born a year after she and Shep got married, and Willa two years after that, so, she calculated, she was remembering a time when Shep was probably done selling cars and had moved into selling insurance. They didn’t have much money, but they were able to manage. Despite the seeds of doubt, there had been plenty of promise in her husband’s career. How long had it taken them to realize that insurance wasn’t going to work out for him, either?

  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t worked hard at his jobs. He had. He was just ill suited to them. No one could blame him for that, considering they were practically handed to him after high school graduation. She thought about how eventful June of that year had been, the most exciting time of their life together. They had just gotten married and moved into a tiny one-bedroom apartment. Plus, everyone in town was only too happy to hire Shep Davis, hero of the school football team. He was the biggest deal to come along in many years. No job interviews or résumé writing for the star quarterback to bother with; local business owners made it clear they would welcome him with open arms. The job selling cars with Able Motors had seemed the most promising initially, with Leon Able arguing that, between his contacts and Shep’s celebrity, the sky was the limit. She had been so proud of her handsome young husband that first week, wearing a new suit, sitting behind his own desk in the showroom, surrounded by shining cars. Success had seemed inevitable.

  The problem was that no one had looked past his football-hero status to notice how shy he was around people he didn’t know well. People loved coming in to meet him, talking about his winning seasons and dozens of game-changing plays. For the first year, it was as Leon Able said, and sales were strong. Then it seemed that everyone who wanted to buy a car from the local celebrity had done so. Customers who didn’t know his story were polite when they saw the photos and awards Leon had prominently displayed, but that didn’t mean they wanted to take the next step of plunking down thousands of dollars for a car. Shep didn’t have any idea how to get them to take that next step, either. He did his best, but he was completely tongue-tied when it came to making small talk about anything other than football, and far too polite to push a product on someone.

  Jennie had gotten pregnant with Tim only two months after their wedding, and any suggestion she made about getting a job herself was met with an instant refusal. There was no point, Shep insisted, because she needed to be at home with the baby. They were able to live on what he brought home for a few years, but the embarrassment of being the lowest producer in the showroom caught up with him. He changed companies, to get away from the disappointment in Leon Able’s eyes. The result was the same at the next place.

  At some point, he got the idea to sell insurance. He was fired up by the plan, convinced it was a product he would be more comfortable selling. He tried with three companies. His successes, which Jennie always fussed over and celebrated, were few and far between. When she tried to suggest he find a job in something other than sales, he would explode that he wasn’t qualified to do anything at all, and he’d usually end up storming out of the house for several hours, getting as far away as he could from the argument and her pitying eyes.

  Jennie once made the mistake of urging him to take the time to go to college. The look on his face made her drop the subject at once. His decision not to go to college was a subject he never talked about. He could have gone to any number of schools on a football scholarship, but he had been unwilling to leave his younger brother, Michael. Shep had been responsible for his brother ever since their mother died, when he was ten and Mike eight. Their father wasn’t at home much, working the
night shift as a waiter at a diner. He would leave for his shift at five in the afternoon and get back by five the next morning. That meant he would be asleep when the boys got up for school and gone by the time they got home from after-school sports practices. Mostly, the two boys were alone. Shep took care of their meals, their laundry, and everything else a parent would have done. It wasn’t that their father didn’t love them. Losing his wife had left him broken inside, and it was only the desire to take care of his children that gave him a reason to get up and go to work every day. Unfortunately, the best job he could come up with was the one that kept him away from them most of the time. Shep would sometimes see him in the stands at his football games, still in his waiter’s white shirt and black pants and shoes, looking tired but proud. When it came time to consider college, Shep wanted no part of leaving Michael home alone. He told Jennie that he was ready to marry her and get to work in the real world. College wasn’t important anyway, he said. If he had any resentment over the fact that Michael went to college, then on to law school and a lucrative career, he never showed it.

  Shep rarely showed his feelings on any subject to anyone but Jennie. They had met in high school; she had been shocked when the handsome eleventh-grade football star expressed an interest in her. He could have had almost any girl in the school at that point. She never could understand what he saw in her, the unpopular girl who was so quiet in classes. Later, she found out that he didn’t like the parties or the fuss girls made over him, or the kids who just wanted to say they were pals with the best football player their school had ever produced. Jennie, he knew, didn’t care. The two of them could sit and just be together. Plus, he was pleasantly surprised to discover she was far more outgoing away from school. “I always knew you weren’t the quiet type,” he’d said with a grin. “Don’t know how I knew, but I just did.”