Chapter 28
Let him down easy.
Such a thought was pride at its worse.
Maybe Elijah was already looking for a way out.
Sure, like he was the kind of man who kissed a woman and then dumped her.
No, Bonnie would be the woman who kissed a man and then told him she’d changed her mind.
Chewing an already sore bottom lip, she lifted the living room curtain for the third time.
He’d said he would come by this evening.
He’d come.
Bonnie held the door open so she could roll through.
The earlier heat of a fiercely sunny day had begun to fade.
A lackadaisical breeze didn’t help much.
She paused on the porch to stare up at the inky night.
The stars were just beginning to show themselves. Not a cloud marred the sky. A mockingbird chastised her from its perch on a beech tree branch. He would likely still be complaining when she finished her conversation with Elijah. They were like that.
Squeaky buggy wheels sounded in the distance.
“Okay, here we go.”
The cheesy meatloaf she’d eaten for supper sat like a brick in her stomach.
“Be kind but be firm.”
The mockingbird sang louder.
“Hush now, he’s here.”
Elijah pulled up to the house and stopped.
A second later he hopped down and trotted up the ramp.
“Hey there. Ready?”
“I thought we might talk here.”
Hand on the railing, he paused.
“It’s a beautiful night for a buggy ride.”
Such a beautiful night and Bonnie was about to ruin it.
“I wish things were different.
I wish we could take a walk.
Just you and me.
No rollator.”
Elijah edged closer.
He put his hand over Bonnie’s on the rollator handle.
“I don’t mind the rollator.
Because of the rollator, you’re able to get around.
It gets you where you’re going. As long as you’re going the same direction as I am, I’m gut.”
Such a perfect sentiment for this moment, for a walk.
How would he feel when the rollator didn’t do the trick anymore? “That’s the thing—”
“What’s going on?”
Bonnie cocked her head toward the swing.
“Wouldn’t you like to sit down?”
“I don’t think so.”
He withdrew his hand.
“What’s going on?”
“I went to the clinic yesterday.”
“I know.
What’d they say?”
“I was right.
My grip is weaker.
A lot weaker.”
“Your mamm’s helping with the sewing.
You’ve got it covered.”
That one task, yes.
But what about all the others as the weakness progressed? “My gait is worse too.
Slower and more wobbly.”
Elijah moved closer again.
This time he slid his arm around her shoulders.
“Es dutt mer.
That wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”
“Nee, it wasn’t.
It surprised me.”
Bonnie eased away from him.
She rolled to the porch railing.
The mockingbird was well named.
It seemed to mock her with its chatter.
Right now she’d prefer a mourning dove. Its sad coo would be more fitting. “They started talking about a wheelchair. I got out of there.”
“If you’re safer using a wheelchair—”
“I don’t need a wheelchair.”
The wind did nothing to cool Bonnie’s warm face.
Elijah didn’t deserve her anger.
Anger born of fear, frustration, and aggravation.
“Not yet.
I fell one time. And then it was just a fluke. So I’m a little slower. I’m fine.”
For now.
Until the next fall.
The one that might cause a broken hip or shoulder.
The one that would finally force the issue.
“Sophia uses a chair, and she’s fine with it.”
“She doesn’t have a choice.”
If Sophia could hear Bonnie now, would she be hurt? No, she’d walked freely once.
She ran, jumped, skipped, and played baseball.
She understood how much it hurt to let go of what others did so easily, so naturally, so like breathing.
Even toddlers did it.
“I still do. For now, I still do.”
Elijah edged toward the railing, so close his shoulder brushed hers.
“Okay, no wheelchair.
Not yet.
So why won’t you come for a ride with me?”
“Because it’s coming.”
“What’s coming?”
“The hands that are less and less useful.
The legs that are less and less dependable.”
Gritting her teeth, Bonnie counted stars.
She swallowed against tears.
“I’ll have the store.
I can run it the same way Sophia does.
I know that. It’ll be gut enough. It’ll have to be gut enough.”
“Nee.”
The muscle pulsed in Elijah’s jaw.
He shook his head hard.
“Nee.
You don’t have to settle.
People with wheelchairs don’t settle. Sophia’s getting married. It was announced at church last Sunday.”
Sophia’s revelations about her inability to have children were shared in confidence.
“Every situation is different.
Even among Plain women with disabilities.”
Englischers wouldn’t understand.
English women had many dreams, among them marrying and having children.
Plain women had that one dream.
To marry and have children.
They also had far fewer conveniences available to make caring for babies possible.
“Plain women have their faith and their family to make marriage and raising kinner work.”
Was there judgment in Elijah’s observation? Or was it simply a statement of fact? “Whatever happens, you won’t go through it alone.”
A part of Bonnie wanted to frame that childish retort: Easy for you to say.
In some ways it was easy.
He couldn’t know what it was like to struggle to accomplish simple movements.
To turn over in bed.
To even get in and out of bed. To put on socks. To hold an umbrella and push a rollator when it unexpectedly started to rain. To not be able to scramble for cover. “I know Gott must be disappointed in my lack of faith.”
“Gott knows what’s in a person’s heart.”
Which could be considered a double-edged sword.
God saw her angst.
He saw the bitterness she tried to hide from the people around her.
He saw her determination to seem content with her lot.
Rather than actually being content. “I’m supposed to bow to His will. When I was baptized and joined the faith, I embraced Gelassenheit. All He’s seeing now is my hochmut. I want what I want. I’m questioning His plan. That’s what He’s seeing in my heart. You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”
“Because He might strike you down with a bolt of lightning?”
Elijah imbued his words with the merest hint of humor.
“He’ll come after me first.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Nee, Bart would agree with you.”
“And you?”
“I’m a grackle in a family of swans.”
Elijah leaned his forearms on the railing.
He ducked his head as if he might pick an armful of pink roses so fragrant the scent almost overwhelmed.
“I don’t want to call auctions.
I don’t want to deal with strangers all day, six or eight days out of the month.
I want to stay home in my workshop, making toys. I don’t even want to talk to most people.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
He raised his head, but his hat still hid his face.
“What do those sentences have in common? I don’t want ...I want . . . I don’t want . . . I want . . . I don’t. It’s all about me.”
His voice grew hoarse and weary.
“My family needs me.
All my brieder and schweschdre are content to be part of the family businesses.
Either auctions or the store.
Except Declan, who had cancer and doesn’t complain, even though all he ever wanted to be was an auctioneer. Then there’s me, who wants nothing to do with any of it. How’s that for hochmut and a complete lack of Gelassenheit?”
Bonnie sought words, but none came.
A raccoon scampered across the grass in the distance.
A barn owl hooted.
Another answered.
“I’m trying so hard to make a way,”
Elijah whispered.
“To make my own way.
Is that wrong? Should I bow to my father’s will? Is it my Father’s will? How do I tell the difference between Dat’s will and Gott’s will? Either way, Scripture says to ‘honor thy father and mother.’”
“These are all reasons for us to break off whatever this is.
I hope you can see that.”
He’d made the argument for Bonnie so unexpectedly.
Had she wanted him to talk her out of it? Maybe.
Probably.
Bonnie fought the urge to take Elijah’s hand, to feel those calluses one more time and the strength of his grip.
“A woman in a wheelchair can’t take care of a house, a farm, kinner, while a man is away from home six months out of the year.”
Elijah straightened.
He met Bonnie’s gaze.
Emotions eddied in his face.
“A powerful reason for me to make my own way.
I want to be with you.”
“Nee, I can’t be your reason for going against your daed’s wishes.”
Bonnie’s voice caught and quivered.
It deserted her when she most needed to stand resolute.
“Nor can I encourage you, knowing what I know about SMA.”
“Jason’s home from the hospital.
He’s getting his strength back.
He’s raring to get on the platform again.”
Elijah’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
His gaze shifted to her hands on the railing.
He smoothed his fingers over hers.
“I know you want to be independent.
Can you forgive me for wanting to take care of you?”
“You just made my point.”
Bonnie scraped together the last remnants of her will to do the right thing—the right thing for this man who had no idea what taking care of her would mean.
“Your daed wants you to live up to your family responsibilities.
So do I.
Faith, family, and community come first.”
“You really mean that?”
No.
“Jah. I do.”
“I signed a contract.”
“Bring in toys when you can.”
Bonnie drew away from him.
She slammed the door on her true feelings.
Time to assume her shop owner persona.
“Certainly plan to make it your full-time job during the off-auction season.”
Emotion fled from Elijah’s face, replaced with a polite, neutral stare.
“Gut plan.”
He tipped his hat to her.
“I’d better get home.
We have to clean out the trailers tomorrow.
They need a gut scrubbing before we get back out on the road Thursday.”
“Careful driving home.”
That was an inane thing to say.
Elijah drove a buggy most days.
She never had.
Bonnie plastered a smile on her face.
“I hope all goes well on this trip.”
In other words, she hoped he would overcome his fears and call an auction as well or better than his brothers.
He backed away, tipped his hat, turned, and was gone.
Taking with him all that Bonnie had ever wanted.
“It’s better this way,”
she whispered.
The mockingbird disagreed.
His song sounded just like a mourning dove’s.