19. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
E lijah figured he'd sneak quietly up to his room and hide his tote bag. But when he approached the patio at the farmhouse, the kitchen lights were on. Through the window, he saw Samuel and Jon at the kitchen table.
Scheisse.
Why was Jon there? He was never at the house at night. Elijah paused in the dark, wondering if he could go around to the front door. But they kept it locked, usually. And the back door just led to the kitchen too. So he pasted on a casual smile. Whatever they were talking about, he'd just pass on by.
He slid open the door and wiped his boots on the doormat before stepping inside. "Hi," he said, then headed for the hallway.
"Elijah!" Samuel called out.
He paused without turning. "Ja?"
"Come here, please."
There was a tremor in his voice. The hair on the back of Elijah's neck rose as if a cold finger had stroked there. Something was wrong.
"Sure. Be right down," Elijah said, continuing toward the stairs.
" Now. Please."
Elijah stopped, his pulse throbbing in his throat. "I need to use the privy. I'll be back in a minute."
Jon got up and walked over. He gazed into Elijah's eyes for a moment, his expression blank. Elijah couldn't read him. Then Jon took the tote bag from Elijah's hand. Just plucked it away. Elijah gasped a protest, but Jon strolled back to the table with it, set it down, and started taking things out of it.
The mortar and pestle—which needed washing.
The old T-shirt bundle, which Jon opened, revealing various herbs and leaves.
A plastic container with the remedy he'd made.
A candle and book of matches Elijah had taken from the dining room hutch.
Elijah's eyes whelmed with tears. Something inside him died. He wanted to run.
"Elijah, come. Sit down, please," Samuel said shakily.
Elijah wiped his eyes. With leaden legs, he crossed the short distance to the table and sank into a chair. "I'm sorry. I was just tryin' to help."
He got a glimpse of Jon's handsome face, which was studying him, his eyes troubled. Then Elijah couldn't look at either of them anymore. Why did it sting, particularly, that Jon was against him? Why did Jon hate him so? Well, he'd get what he wanted now. Samuel would kick him out. He stared down into his lap.
"I wondered where my mortar and pestle went," Samuel sighed.
"I'm sorry," Elijah whispered. "I was gonna put it back."
Tears really threatened now, but he didn't want to blubber in front of them, so he swallowed the emotion down with as much force as he could.
"Elijah…" Samuel began, "just… be honest. Do you mess around with braucherei?"
Elijah couldn't speak. He could hardly deny it when the evidence was on the table.
Jon picked up the plastic container. "Is this for Priscilla's leg?" his voice was calmer than Elijah expected. He risked a glimpse at Jon's face. Blank, as always.
Elijah shook his head.
Jon frowned. "Who's it for?"
Elijah took a deep breath. "Joy. She has heart trouble. Probably from when she was half-starved, like you said." He glimpsed at Samuel, then back to his lap. "I made that to ease her weak spells."
"What's in it?"
Elijah gave Jon a confused glance. "I don't know the English names."
Jon turned the container in his hand, looking at it. "Where did you learn how to make it?"
Elijah hesitated, but he had no answer except the truth. "Dawdi. That's my grandfather. He's the best braucher in Lancaster county. People even come from out of state for remedies and healin's."
"Elijah." Samuel leaned his elbows on the table, looking very worried. "You mentioned your dawdi's name when you arrived. What was it again?"
"Ruben Schultz."
Samuel's face paled and he drew back. "In Ronks."
Elijah nodded miserably.
Samuel looked at Jon.
"What?" Jon asked.
"I think I heard the name." Samuel tapped his thumb on the table, and the look in his eyes as he glanced at Elijah was pure fear. It twisted the knife a little more. Elijah's face grew hot, and he couldn't hardly breath. Samuel feared him, and that felt like the worst betrayal. Elijah would have run up to his room, but he was frozen in place.
"Is he… does your dawdi practice out in the open in your congregation?" Samuel asked, in disbelief.
Elijah slowly shook his head. "No. But everyone knows. People come at night, when no one can see."
Jon put a hand on his shoulder, his voice gentler. "Hey. We're not tryin' to hurt you. But you can't hide things like this from us. And you can't go around doctorin' the animals."
"I'm sorry," Elijah choked out. "I won't do it again, I swear."
But Jon went on, his voice getting colder and his hand falling away. "You have to understand, Elijah. I have routines, medication lists. Even if you mean well, somethin' like this could interact with medications they're gettin' from the vet. It could cause serious harm. And what if you mix up somethin' that hurts one of the animals? Some plants are toxic and—"
"I know what I'm doin’!" Elijah flashed his gaze up resentfully. "Dawdi taught me remedies for every animal yous got here and more besides. People too. Since I was five years old. And I'm not stupid. I know you can't mix remedies with medications. I checked your logs for Joy. The vet ain't figured out about her heart, and she's not on any medication at all. Is she?"
Jon frowned. "No. Not Joy, but—"
"My remedies would never hurt the animals. Joy is sufferin'. I just wanted to help her." He looked pleadingly at Samuel. "If you knew you could do somethin' to help her, you would, wouldn't you? I didn't mean to practice braucherei after I left. But ain't it a sin not to help when I know I can?"
Voicing the conflict in his heart out loud made his head spin. What was he meant to do? Jon and Samuel looked at each other.
"I'm not bad!" Elijah insisted. "I'm not! I would never do bad braucherei. But if you want me to go—" Elijah couldn't finish the sentence. The words stuck in his throat and a choked sound escaped, humiliating him further. He covered his eyes.
"Elijah, no." Samuel stood, pulled Elijah from his chair, and hugged him. It wasn't at all what Amish men did, and part of Elijah shrank back. He wasn't a child! But Samuel's arms were strong, they felt good, and it was a relief knowing Samuel wasn't mad, that he didn't have to leave.
The hug lasted only seconds. Which was good 'cause otherwise Elijah really would've started bawling.
Elijah sank back into his chair and tried to get himself under control.
"My grandma made folk remedies," Jon said slowly, turning the container again in his hand. "And my Aunt Jolie? She's big on this stuff. She's always pushin' her herbal 'vitamins' on us."
"For true?" Elijah was surprised. Surely all English went to English doctors.
Jon nodded. "Hell yah. Family tradition. You say you don't know the English names of the plants. Can you show me what plants you put in this concoction?"
Elijah blinked and slowly nodded. He took certain stems and leaves from the bundle and laid them on the table, then moved the small bottle of oil next to them. "That's olive oil. From the kitchen. Dawdi makes his own oil, but this was the best I could do."
Jon took out his phone and snapped a picture. Elijah had no idea why.
"Is there anythin' else you need to tell us? Anythin' at all?" Samuel asked in a firm voice that said he meant it.
Elijah rubbed his face and thought about it. He could say more. Lots more. But anything else he could say would only make it worse. They'd think he was crazy. Or influenced by the devil or some such. He slowly shook his head. "I promise, Samuel, I won't do any more braucherei."
Samuel and Jon looked at each other as if silently deciding his fate. Samuel still looked pale, and as usual, Jon's face was unreadable, his full lips pursed tight.
"If he promises," Jon shrugged. He looked at Elijah. "From now on, if you think anythin' is wrong with one of the animals, you tell me, and I'll get the vet out. Got it?"
Elijah nodded. "Ja. I will."
"Okay, Elijah. I'll take your word," Samuel said. "But I don't want any braucherei on this farm. None. It's… it's not right." His voice was as stern as the gentle Samuel ever got, and Elijah knew he meant it.
"I know. I swear."
Samuel sighed. "Okay. Let's consider it done. Go get some rest now."
Elijah slipped from the chair and the room without looking at them again. He went up to his bedroom where he buried his head in a pillow. The pain in his heart near about wanted to kill him. Despair flowed like a black river.
What good was he, anyway? He was of no use in the Amish world and of no use in this one, where they only trusted doctors and people with a million years of education. His gifts, the only true gifts he had, had been stripped from him, first by Dawdi, and now by Samuel and Jon. It was the worst punishment he could imagine. Far worse than being shunned.
He had nothing, and he was of no use at all.