Child of Mine Page 9

  Kelly asked her to confirm the address Ernie had sent earlier, and after putting Kelly on hold, Cindy came back on. “That’s the correct address.”

  Okay, Kelly thought. Right address, wrong girl.

  Nattie Livingston was a complete miss, a rarity for Ernie, but even the best of them had off days.

  Cindy cut into her thoughts, “Hey, sweetie. My other line is beeping. Need anything else?”

  “Nope. Thanks, Cindy. And tell Ernie I’ll keep him in my prayers,” Kelly said.

  Cindy expressed her appreciation and hung up.

  Perturbed but more worried for Ernie, Kelly put her jalopy in gear and left the lovely neighborhood. She was hard-pressed to figure out how Ernie, sick or not, could fail so thoroughly with this latest prospect.

  Nattie’s little splinter-free friend, Marina, stayed for dinner, and Laura stayed longer than usual. She was wiping off the kitchen counters when Diane Farley came running over in crisp white shorts, a turquoise top, and white sandals. She was frowning. “They’re late, Jack,” she muttered, clearly displeased. “What’re we gonna do?”

  Jack motioned her toward the garage and raised the door. He gestured to the space he’d cleared out for the dirt bike, a narrow aisle between his Ford F-250 and his well-worn workbench, stained and smelling of oil and paint and turpentine. It was a space big enough to accommodate Craig Farley’s anniversary gift until the grand unveiling.

  “You’re sure you don’t mind?” she asked again. No sooner had she voiced it when the boys from the local motorcycle shop drove up and parked at the end of Jack’s driveway. The coveted bike was harnessed on the back of a large flatbed truck.

  “Whew.” Diane glanced at her watch. “Finally. Craig’s due home in thirty minutes.”

  “They’ll have it unloaded long before that,” Jack assured her. Either that or Craig will be jealous of my new ride. He grinned at the thought.

  The bike was a stunning top-of-the-line yellow Honda. Two of the guys, both sporting jeans and long beards, wheeled it into Jack’s garage.

  “I can’t guarantee it’ll still be here tomorrow,” he joked.

  Diane narrowed her eyes. “Whatever,” she returned, obviously happier these days, more so than in the terrifying months after her first husband had walked out for good. For her good.

  As a conscientious neighbor, Jack had tried to pick up the pieces from a handyman perspective, mowing Diane’s lawn, shoveling snow, changing the oil in her Ford Taurus—the very one he’d negotiated for her in the first place, driving a hard bargain on her behalf. Naturally, it hadn’t been that hard. The car salesman, Jim Meyers, had been one of Jack’s former flight students, a certified pilot. Jim gave him the “former teacher” discount.

  On occasion, Jack had also driven Diane’s troubled daughter, Livy, to school, sometimes picking her up from the principal’s office when Diane was stuck at work. He’d also helped search various neighborhoods when Livy wasn’t where she’d promised to be.

  Considering his involvement in their lives, it would have been only natural that a romance might develop between them. Diane was a lovely woman, inside and out, who attracted more than her fair share of second and third looks. When his sister heard about Jack’s near miss, San had hit the roof. “Are you nuts? Diane’s the most eligible woman in Wooster!”

  It had been futile to argue that point with unyielding San. If anyone, she should have understood his skittishness toward the institution of marriage. Both had witnessed firsthand what happened when a marriage went horribly awry.

  Fortunately for Diane, she’d met Craig Farley, closing the door forever on any possible romance with Jack, not that he had any regrets.

  Swiftly, Diane signed the papers, and the men pulled out in their delivery truck. She leaned over the bike, marveling at her purchase. “Craig’s going to hit the ceiling,” she said, eyes beaming.

  In a good way, Jack thought. “You realize you’ve reset the bar for women everywhere, don’t you?”

  Diane’s eyes danced. “Don’t I know it. What woman allows her man to ride a bike, much less buys him one?”

  Jack laughed. They confirmed arrangements for springing the bike on her husband. She started to leave, then asked, “Hey, Jack, how’s Nattie doing?”

  “Can you wait a sec?” he asked and hurried inside to retrieve the folder from his office. Outside again, he gave another glance toward the interior door, checking for little ears, and removed Nattie’s artwork. “Take a look at this,” he said. “I haven’t even shown it to Laura yet.”

  Diane examined the drawing carefully, whistling softly. A confused look creased her forehead. “So, does this mean you and Laura are getting cozy?”

  “Oh no. Not at all.”

  Diane laughed. “Apparently Nattie has a different take on things?”

  “Well, you know Nattie,” he said, and Diane handed the picture back. “She has a very active imagination.”

  “Okay,” Diane said, biting her lower lip. “My opinion?”

  “Please.”

  “Imagine you’re Nattie and all your friends have moms, and all the young girls you see in movies and TV have moms, and it seems as if everyone in the world has a mother,” Diane said. “You’d probably fantasize about it. You’d create a story world with a loving mother who watches over you, who disciplines you, who cries with you, who prays for you—a mother like the one Nattie had and lost.”

  The steady rumble of an engine interrupted their conversation. Politely, Diane held up a hold-on finger and peered around the corner, presumably to see if Craig had arrived home.

  Relieved, she wandered back. “It’s really very simple, Jack. Nattie wants a mother of her own. She misses the one she had, and she wonders about the birth mom she’s never known.”

  Jack crossed his arms, leaning against his truck. “And apparently she’d like her mother to be Laura. I get that.”

  Diane shrugged. “But how can you be surprised? Laura’s wonderful with her.”

  No argument there.

  “On the other hand, it could be that Laura just happens to be closest.” Diane gestured at him. “And since you obviously can’t marry an Amish lady, I’m sure there’s a qualified woman who would absolutely jump at the chance to be a mom to your daughter. You might be surprised at the results.” Her eyes twinkled. “Who knows, Jack. You might even fall in love.”

  Jack chuckled. How quickly Diane had progressed from one point to the next.

  Diane extended her arms, palms up, as if arguing a contested point. “Look at Craig and me. He’s been perfect for Liv. Her grades have shot up again, she doesn’t run away anymore, and she’s crazy about her stepdad.”

  Jack still remembered Livy as a surly preteen. Hard to imagine the transformation. Diane grinned, as if enjoying his predicament. “I think you’re simply one marriage vow away from a contented daughter, Jack.”

  “Between you and San . . .” Jack muttered good-naturedly.

  “Yes, and say hello to your dear sis for me,” Diane replied. A sudden wind picked up, sweeping her hair across her face. She cleared the offending strands and waved, heading back to her house while Jack quickly turned to compare his truck to Craig’s soon-to-be pride and joy. A dingy comparison, hands down.

  Ten minutes after Diane had left, Jack was still in the garage pondering the whole tangled mess created by Nattie’s artwork and praying for direction. Advice, unsolicited, seemed to come from everywhere lately, not that he didn’t appreciate the input. But in the end, he had to make a decision for the future. According to her teachers, Nattie wanted permanence—and a mommy. And she wanted Laura to be that mommy.

  Hadn’t Jack always given her what she needed?

  What if I did marry Laura? He smiled at the outlandish notion. Laura would likely turn ashen, staring at him in horror if he even suggested the idea. At the very least, they’d have a pleasant chuckle at his momentary lapse in judgment. At worst, she might even quit her job.

  But nothing would alter t
he obvious: Laura was Amish, and he was not. Anything between them, any possibility of a romance, started and ended there. Just as he couldn’t imagine ever becoming Plain, Laura certainly couldn’t imagine going fancy.

  Yet, in spite of the radical clash in cultures, they did have one thing in common: Nattie. They’d practically raised her together, creating years of treasured memories, even brainstorming solutions to dozens of childhood issues. But mutual love for Nattie wasn’t a strong enough reason to marry. Right?

  He recalled the school counselor’s jolting remark: “What happens to Nattie if Laura leaves?”

  Kids adapt, he figured. Kids were resilient. Part of growing up was dealing with change. Then again, he considered Nattie’s imminent loss of her auntie San to New York.

  Losing San was one thing; losing the only mother figure Nattie knew was quite another. Certain events have the power to change us forever, he thought. If anyone knew this for a fact, he did.

  Chapter 11

  Jack was sorting through his garage tools and his thoughts when Laura poked her head out. “I’m almost finished for the day,” she said, sitting down on the concrete steps and folding her arms into her full apron. She studied Jack’s temporary acquisition. “Awful perty bike, isn’t it? Can we keep it?” She laughed softly.

  Jack smiled. “Don’t I wish.”

  Laura’s white tennis shoes peeked out from under her long dress, the shoes at odds with the formality of her otherwise conservative attire. “I thought Craig already had a motorcycle,” she added, tilting her head.

  Jack pointed to the tires and the suspension, explaining the unique characteristics of a dirt bike.

  Laura wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I should get a motorcycle,” she said without cracking a smile.

  Jack was amused at the image of an Amishwoman zooming along to work, wearing a helmet and leaning into the wind.

  “That, of course, would never go over with the People,” she said more quickly. “We have our ordinances to uphold.” She looked away. “Well, to obey, anyway.”

  “Any chance your church ordinance would allow you a motorbike?”

  They both knew the answer, but it provided some needed humor between them. After more small talk about the Plain tenets of “separation from the world,” she offered some further gardening ideas, especially in creating small box gardens in the backyard.

  “By the way, Jack,” Laura said, “your Nattie was mighty ecstatic that you asked her to call you Dad.”

  “Long overdue, too. I should’ve asked her years ago.”

  “But she was so honored.” Laura cleared her throat. “She really loves you, Jack.”

  “And I love her.”

  She smiled. “Oh, I nearly forgot to tell ya Nattie’s latest list of her top ten favorite friends.”

  “Are we on it?” Jack chuckled.

  “Actually, I encouraged Nattie to at least hide the list in her drawer so as not to offend the friends who didn’t make it to number one, ya know.”

  “Good idea.”

  Then, after a mutual smile for Nattie’s ongoing categorization of nearly everything, Laura clasped her hands. “Well . . . I suppose it’s that time.” She rose and tied her prayer cap loosely beneath her chin. “Have a restful evening, Jack.”

  He felt a tinge of regret as he watched her wander out to her metallic blue car. He was about to press the garage remote when he heard the telling groan of the starter, again and again, as Laura tried to fire up her car.

  He made his way down the driveway, only to see Laura’s hands covering her face. “I just spent three hundred dollars on this,” she told him when she looked up.

  Jack tapped the car and jerked his thumb toward his pickup. “Let’s get you home. I’ll call the tow truck.”

  Sighing, yet apparently relieved, Laura locked her car as Jack headed inside to get Nattie to come along. Wait a minute, he thought, realizing it made better sense to have Diane keep Nattie next door. After a quick call, their neighbor happily agreed.

  When he found Nattie, she was sitting in the guest room where Laura stayed occasionally when Jack was gone overnight. Nattie was giving voice to her stuffed animals, talking in Deitsch.

  This space across the house from the kitchen had always struck Jack as somewhat bleak, not in the sense of lacking beauty, but scantily furnished. There was an oak double bed and matching dresser with no mirror, a brightly hued rag rug on the floor, and a small square table near the bed. A room Darla had no doubt decorated with her nanny’s simple taste in mind.

  Nattie looked up, bright-eyed and hopeful. “What’s up, doc?”

  “I need to take Laura home, sweetie.”

  Nattie’s face fell. “Her car broke again?”

  “Yep, and you’re going over to Diane’s till I get back, sweet pea.”

  “Goody!”

  When Nattie waved at Jack across the yard, he quickly headed to get his truck from the garage.

  Laura was apologetic. “Sure ya don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” He tuned the dial to her favorite country music station. A tune by George Strait filled up the silence.

  She looked sheepish. “I know you hate that.”

  “I don’t hate it,” he said. “I just don’t . . . like it.”

  Laura smiled and nodded.

  They drove through the side streets of their neighborhood, then Jack headed south toward downtown Wooster. Glancing at Laura, Jack couldn’t miss seeing her melancholy expression. He recalled something Nattie had once told him privately. “I think Laura’s always a little sad.”

  Nattie was perceptive, although most people would have disagreed with her assessment of Laura, those who didn’t know Laura well. Most would have pegged her as rather cheerful. Despite that, even when Jack’s and Nattie’s lives were humming along, there was a frequent fade to Laura’s smile, as if she were merely smiling through the pain.

  She’s a shunned woman, he thought. Rejected by her family.

  At times he also guessed that Nattie was attempting to bridge the gap, trying to make up for the family Laura had lost back in Lancaster County.

  Eventually, the middle-class neighborhoods gave way to pastureland and fields of corn—the wide, open places. He enjoyed this part of the drive, liked the feeling of expansion, as if it could free his mind somehow. In a sense, it was a parallel to flying, breaking the shackles of earth.

  He turned onto the highway. “You’ve been with us quite a while now, Laura.”

  “Jah, a wonderful-gut time, too.” She leaned over to tie one of her sneakers. Then she put her hands in her lap decorously.

  A moment passed. “Do you ever miss your family?” he ventured.

  “Back east?”

  Zipping down the highway, Jack eased his grip on the steering wheel. “Yes, I mean . . . the whole thing, growing up in an Old Order community. The few things you’ve shared with me, you know.”

  Laura leaned back a little, sighing softly. “Life is ever so much different back home. That’s for sure.”

  “Ever think of returning there?”

  Shielding her eyes from the descending sun, she looked at him curiously. “Are ya tryin’ to get rid of me, Jack?” She smiled, her gaze unwavering.

  “Are you kidding? I’d sign you to a ten-year contract, if that were possible.”

  Laura squinted, falling silent.

  Jack turned his attention back to the road, worried he had upset her.

  “Nee, I can’t go back,” she said at last. “Not unless I’m willing to offer a kneeling confession to the church membership.”

  “Hmm,” Jack murmured, unable to understand the mystery of her life and the past she’d left behind. She’d rarely spoken of her excommunication, which seemed to have stained her soul.

  “It’s really none of my business,” he added. “I just—”

  “What are you really askin’, Jack?” Her tone was tense now and vulnerable; he wished he’d left it alone.

  Like Nattie, Laura had a knack
for sniffing out the point to his rambling conversations. And before he could reply, she added, “Truth is . . . someday I will go home to Pennsylvania. At times I haven’t been so sure of it, really. But when I am, I’ll offer my repentance and be welcomed back into the People’s gut graces.” She paused. “For certain, I’ll be happy to give up my broken-down car!” Laura laughed softly.

  Jack smiled in kind, but his shoulders drooped at her response. That answer, most of all, settled things for him—more than the teacher’s meeting and beyond San’s haranguing. Even more than the hidden meaning lurking within Nattie’s drawing.

  “Does that answer your question?” she asked.

  He nodded—only fair, after all. Laura had dedicated eight years to his girl, putting her life on hold to nurture Nattie. He’d accepted Laura’s kind generosity with gratitude, but he’d assumed she would always be with them.

  “I’m so thankful for you, Laura. I hope you know that. No matter how long you can stay.”

  Her face dimmed. “Well, ain’t that simple, really.”

  Another mile passed. The junction to her cousins’ farm was just ahead.

  “I’ve been thinking of something,” Jack said. “Actually, it might sound like a harebrained idea.” He stole a glance and she nodded. “That is, I’m actually thinking of dating . . . you know, to find a wife and a mother for Nattie.”

  Laura’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

  He pointed to the glove compartment and asked her to open it, knowing she’d understand if she could see Nattie’s drawing for herself.

  Laura removed the art and set it on her lap. As she looked closer, a little gasp escaped her. “Ach, for goodness’ sake.”

  Jack explained the back story, leaving out the matchmaking details, but included their neighbor Diane’s take on it, that Nattie simply wanted a mother—any mother would do.

  “But, I’m in this picture,” Laura said, visibly shocked.

  “Yes, however . . .” Jack began, hoping to alleviate any pressure she might feel. “I guess we have to look deeper than that, anticipating what Nattie really needs, knowing that we can’t give her what she thinks she wants.” He looked over at Laura. “Does that make sense?”