Chapter 42
Ten months later
Sticky cotton candy sweet on her tongue, Bonnie craned her head to see past a cluster of overall-clad farmers who’d paused in front of the auction platform to watch Toby Miller ply his trade.
Elijah’s brother was in his element with three English women and one English man waging a fierce bidding war over a handmade, king-size Broken Star quilt.
The Center for Special Children would see a nice chunk of money for this one item.
There were hundreds more pieces from outdoor furniture to tractors to sewing machines to toys to fresh eggs donated for the express purpose of helping the clinic accomplish its mission of serving all patients with genetic diseases, regardless of whether they had insurance or the ability to pay.
Theo and Uri had split the cost of hiring a van to travel to the auction in Leola, Pennsylvania.
It was the closest fundraiser for the clinic and one of three for which the Miller brothers would do the calling this year.
Bonnie pressed her hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the blinding June sun.
It didn’t help.
Times like this, she missed her rollator.
Using a wheelchair had many perks, but not being able to see over people who failed to notice that they blocked her view was not one of them.
She didn’t have enough strength in her arms to move the chair any distance by herself. The Center for Special Children was working on getting her an electric chair adapted to run on battery power. It would give her so much more freedom. Getting used to a wheelchair had been hard. Another lesson in giving up control, in relying on God and her family. In asking for help. Hard lessons.
“Gotcha.”
Her chair started to move.
Bonnie swiveled and looked up.
Rachelle Miller, Toby’s wife, had commandeered her chair.
“Excuse me.
Coming through. Excuse me. Thank you. Thank you.”
The crowd parted.
Within seconds Bonnie was parked in front of the bleachers alongside Judah and Robbie King, who sat in their chairs.
Their sister Claire lounged on the front row, her walker parked in front of her, half a dozen of her friends on either side.
They joined in a rousing “bewillkumm,”
the loudest coming from little Sadie Miller and her best friend Jonah Lapp.
“Danki, danki.”
Bonnie shot Rachelle a grateful smile.
“For your help.”
“You’re welcome.
We like to have a cheerleading section for our auctioneers.”
She grinned.
Marriage to Toby suited her.
The former schoolteacher’s figure had filled out after having two babies.
Her cheeks were red in the toasty sun.
Her eyes sparkled every time she shot a glance at the stage. “The more the merrier. Where are your mamm and Theo?”
“They went to look at a sofa.
Ours is falling apart.
It’s been repaired one time too many.”
Although getting a large piece of furniture home to Lee’s Gulch would be a challenge.
More likely they would find another way to support the clinic.
Mom simply liked to shop.
She would spend all day purchasing smaller items that would add up to a nice “donation.”
Although she nodded, Rachelle didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Bonnie’s words.
Her gaze skipped over Bonnie’s head, scanning the crowd.
No doubt she wondered about Elijah but was too polite to ask.
Unlike her mother-in-law, Elizabeth, who hemmed and hawed about it every time she came into the shop—which was far more often than she had before her son started courting one of its co-owners.
Everyone had to know the couple had been courting for almost a year.
A wonderful, lovely time of growing closer; snatches of conversations and kisses in the shop workroom; long, rambling rides in the buggy; and picnics by the creek.
So perfect.
So why didn’t Elijah take the next step? Did he still have doubts? Surely not.
What held him back? Why, Gott?
“Well, look who’s coming our way.”
Bonnie followed Rachelle’s gaze.
Elijah strode along the edge of the crowd, a cardboard box under one arm and a tall reusable cup in his other hand.
He seemed intent on studying the mass of people milling in front of the platform.
“Hey, Elijah!”
Rachelle cupped her hands around her mouth.
“Elijah! Over here!”
Heat infused Bonnie’s face.
Rachelle might not be Elizabeth’s blood relative, but she seemed to be cut from the same cloth.
She squeezed Bonnie’s shoulder.
“Gern gschehme.”
What could Bonnie say? “Danki.”
“No worries.”
She held out her hand.
“Would you like me to take the stick?”
Bonnie gave the cotton candy stick to her.
Rachelle took it and, in exchange, gave Bonnie a baby wipe.
Always prepared.
Bonnie thanked her and took care of her sticky hands while Rachelle traipsed toward a metal barrel trash can at the end of the bleachers.
Very strategic withdrawal.
The cheering section was less circumspect.
They chorused a welcome to Elijah.
His fair skin turned radish red.
He ducked his head. “Hallo.”
“Bruder, Bruder!”
Sadie hopped down from the bleacher and ran to Elijah.
“What’s in the box? Is it for me?”
“Nee.”
Elijah squatted, laid the box next to Bonnie’s wheelchair, and hugged his little sister.
“It’s a present for someone else.”
“Who? I’m your schweschder.
I need present.”
“Not this time.”
He smiled at Bonnie over Sadie’s head.
“This is for grown-up people.”
Sadie’s round face lit up.
She whirled and threw herself at Bonnie for another hug.
Bonnie returned the favor.
The little girl was a warm ball of chunkiness.
She smelled of caramel corn and chocolate milk. “My bruder got you a present. I help you open it.”
“Not this time.”
Elijah gently lifted the girl from Bonnie’s lap.
He carried her to the bleachers and settled her next to Rachelle, who had a knowing grin on her face.
“I’ll be back later.
I can give you a piggyback ride to the van.”
“Jah, jah, jah,”
Sadie sang.
“And bring me present.”
He laughed.
He looked happy.
And so handsome. Breathe.
Bonnie couldn’t contain her smile.
“So what is in the box? Is it a present?”
For me?
“Nee, just odds and ends.”
“You bid on a box of odds and ends?”
“Jason was auctioning off a bunch of the mystery boxes—you know the ones you can bid on sight unseen.
Sometimes they’re full of treasures.
Sometimes they’re full of junk.”
“How much did you spend on this box of junk?”
“Three whole dollars.”
“And did you find any treasures?”
“We’ll find out later.”
Elijah set the box on her lap before she could protest.
“Let’s take it to my family’s van.
I don’t want to carry it around all afternoon.”
We’ll.
That sounded promising.
The box didn’t feel too heavy.
The flaps were tightly folded.
Her curiosity piqued, Bonnie grabbed a flap. “Let’s just take a quick look.”
“Nee.
No peeking.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Without a backward glance at the Miller/King contingent, Elijah took control of Bonnie’s wheelchair.
He wheeled her along the narrow path between the crowd and the bleachers toward the fairgrounds exhibit hall food court.
Bonnie pointed to the plastic chairs and tables near the long row of food booths with their neon-green paper signs advertising barbecued chicken, pork sandwiches, soft pretzels, homemade doughnuts, fruit skewers, ice cream, pizza, and much more.
“We could sit over there and look through it.”
Elijah bent closer to be heard over the steady roar of hundreds of people all talking at once.
“You’re like a little kid.
It’s just a box of junk.”
“Or a box of treasure.
You said so yourself.”
He didn’t stop at the only open table.
“Hey, we were supposed to sit—”
“Never said that.”
“But I’m hungry.
I want a cheeseburger and fries.”
“It’s only eleven o’clock.
By the time we drop the box off and come back, it’ll be time to eat.”
“You’re being weird.”
“Nee.
I’m being the adult.”
“Ha.
Since when?”
“Funny, funny.”
He pushed Bonnie’s chair through the throngs of people gathered in front of massive displays of household goods, crafts, toys, donated appliances, and produce.
The ways people and businesses found to support the clinic never ceased to amaze Bonnie.
A good ten minutes later, they approached the long line of vehicles parked in the overflow parking lot.
Like Bonnie’s family, the Millers not associated with the auctioneering business had hired a van to drive them from Virginia to Leola that morning.
They’d arrived too late for close parking.
It was halfway down the row.
“Here we are.”
Elijah parked Bonnie’s chair behind the van’s back end.
He wiped his face on his sleeve.
“It’s really warmed up since we got here.”
He made no move to open the back doors.
Bonnie patted the box.
“Put it away so we can go back.
Those french fries are calling my name.”
Elijah slapped his hat back on his head.
“We should open it first.”
“But you just said—”
“I changed my mind.
Go on, open it.”
Bonnie shook her head and rolled her eyes.
Sometimes Elijah brought out the teenager in her.
“You really are being weird.”
He shrugged.
“Heatstroke.
It must be eighty-five degrees.”
The allure of these boxes was the unknown.
Once Bonnie’s dad bought one and found a rare first edition of a Louisa May Alcott book that Mom still treasured.
Sometimes a box held nothing more than plastic ice trays and Dollar Store trinkets.
It took some doing, but Bonnie finally pulled out all four flaps.
A pair of rooster salt-and-pepper shakers lay nestled in a small red, blue, and purple crib quilt on top.
“My mamm will love the shakers.”
She examined the quilt’s tiny, even stitches.
Made with love.
“Talk about treasures.
This alone is worth far more than three dollars.
It’ll be a perfect gift for a bopli born in winter.”
Elijah took both items.
“For future conversation . and use. What else is in there?”
Sewing shears, a pack of Uno! cards, a package of clothespins, another of ink pens, a box of birthday cards, a cake tin, a pie server, a complete set of dominoes, three crossword puzzle books, and a First Baptist Church of Leola Women’s Cookbook of Potluck Recipes.
“Not bad.
These are all useful items worth a lot more than three dollars.”
She grinned at Elijah.
He grinned back, looking supremely pleased with himself.
Bonnie started to close the flaps.
“I think we can chalk this one up as treasure.”
“Don’t close it up yet.”
Elijah put his hand on hers.
“You’re sure there’s nothing else in there? Nothing at all?”
“I don’t think so.”
Bonnie tugged her hand free.
She rummaged through the items, digging to the bottom.
“Oh, jah.
Some pot holders.
A box of toothpicks. A Niagara Falls refrigerator magnet. I think that’s it.”
“Are you sure?”
Perplexed, Bonnie ran her gaze over the box’s contents.
She pulled out a rumpled piece of paper from under the cookbook.
“Except for this.
It’s probably a receipt.”
“Maybe.”
Bonnie unfolded the pale-blue paper.
Not a receipt.
The neat penciled script seemed familiar. It read:
Dear Bonnie,
Will you marry me?
Love,
Elijah
Tears blurred Bonnie’s vision.
She blinked and reread the simple words.
After all this time, it didn’t seem possible.
Was it really happening? The paper fluttered to the ground.
She lifted her gaze to Elijah.
His hands hung at his sides.
Hope danced with uncertainty in his face.
He cleared his throat.
“I’ve been trying to find a way to ask you for days.
I wasn’t sure—”
“Wasn’t sure I’d say jah?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
He nodded.
“For a smart man, you can be so dumb.”
“That doesn’t sound like jah.”
The letter was sweet, but the question she’d waited so long to hear needed to be spoken.
Shaking her head, Bonnie pointed at the paper that had landed face down in the grass.
“Maybe you should try again.”
Elijah straightened.
He swiveled left, then right.
They were alone in a sea of vehicles under a cloudless Pennsylvania sky.
The crowd’s noise was a distant murmur.
Not even a bird uttered a peep. Elijah dropped to both knees. He took Bonnie’s hands in his. His blue eyes were brilliant in the morning sun. “Will you marry me?”
“Jah.
Of course I will.”
He gasped.
His dimples reappeared.
He jumped to his feet.
“Jah, you said jah.”
The folks at the livestock auction could probably hear his shout.
“I did.
I thought you’d never ask.”
Bonnie smiled up at him.
“Why are you so surprised?”
“I didn’t know if it was too soon.
I was afraid you’d use the wheelchair as an excuse—”
“I haven’t offered it as an excuse for anything else, have I?”
Bonnie began using the chair after her fall the previous summer.
With one broken wrist and the other sprained, she couldn’t use the rollator so she’d made the switch.
She simply never went back.
“I can beat Sophia in wheelchair races now, and it makes for a nice lap for the boplin.”
For Opal’s baby, Esther, and for Sophia’s soon-to-be-adopted son, Caleb.
Carol’s baby was due in the fall.
Bonnie was an honorary aunt to all of them.
“We said we’d go slow.
It’ll be a year in August.
I figured that was pretty slow, but maybe your definition is different.”
“I’m so relieved.
I was beginning to think you’d never ask.”
“Ach, seriously?”
Elijah shoved his hat back.
His expression bewildered, he shook his head.
“You could’ve said something.”
“The man does the asking.”
“I’ve been so happy, I didn’t want to spoil things by moving too fast.
These past ten months have been the best days of my life.”
He knelt again and took her hands in his.
“I’m working full time in my workshop.
Homespun Handicrafts is doing well.
Your mom and Theo are happy.
You’re happy, aren’t you?”
Amazingly happy.
The changes had been swift and relentless, yet surmountable.
Hannah now worked full time in the store.
A new employee, who also used a wheelchair, had taken over Sophia’s duties.
Not that Sophia played any less of a role in the business end of owning a shop. Same with Carol. They loved Homespun Handicrafts as much as Bonnie did.
Having Theo living in the house had turned out to be far less difficult than Bonnie had imagined.
He made Mom laugh.
He knew when to be quiet and when to talk.
He smiled often and rarely complained.
He simply fit. “I’m very happy. You make me happy.”
Elijah’s smile grew—if that were possible.
He leaned in.
Finally, he kissed her.
The moment she’d been waiting for.
A kiss to seal the promise. He tasted of cherry limeade and sweet joy.
As the kiss deepened, Bonnie let go of all the uncertainty, the fears, the what-ifs.
The space filled with promises made, joy, and the certainty of two who would become one.
They would face the what-ifs together.
When they finally broke apart, Bonnie clasped Elijah’s face in her hands.
“Elijah Miller, did you lure me out here to the van so we could kiss and make out like youngies?”
His aw-shucks grin grew.
“Since we never got to do this as youngies, I thought it was about time.”
“Seriously, though, why here at an auction? Why not some place private?”
“Because I found my courage at an auction.
If I could stand in front of a crowd holding a mic and call an auction, I figured I could summon the courage to ask you the most important question of my life here.”
“Makes sense.”
In a guy sort of way.
All about bravery and courage.
Such a simple question.
“I think.”
More kisses.
More murmured words of love followed.
After a while, Bonnie leaned back.
“It’s perfect.
So perfect.”
It wouldn’t always be perfect.
Life would get in the way.
Her health.
The challenges of childbearing for a woman with SMA weren’t for the faint of heart.
Bonnie picked up the crib quilt. She held the soft material to her cheek. “Do you wonder what our bopli will look like? I hope he has your dimples.”
“I hope he has your heart.”
Elijah held out his hand.
Bonnie gave him the quilt.
“Come what may, we’ll be a family.”
“Like I said, you’re a smart man.”
Elijah laid the quilt in the box.
He closed the flaps and picked it up.
“Hey, that’s my box.”
“I bought it at auction.”
“And you gave it to me.”
Bonnie nodded at the paper still lying in the grass.
“I want my piece of paper in case I need to prove you asked me.
No backing out now.”
“Like I’d try.”
Elijah scooped up the paper and handed it to her.
She took it, but he didn’t let go.
They both held on.
Seconds ticked by.
The unspoken words flew back and forth. “It belongs to both of us.”
“For now and forever.”
Bonnie let go.
“Slip it in the box with our other treasures.”
“Gladly.”
True treasures had nothing to do with pot holders, cookbooks, or refrigerator magnets.
Time was theirs to treasure.
Bonnie intended to do just that for all the days of their lives—however many that might be.
Discussion Questions
Elijah is a shy man in a family of extroverts.
His dad expects him to join the family business as an auctioneer.
The thought of standing up in front of a crowd makes Elijah feel physically ill.
Have you ever been in a similar situation where family or friends expected you to do something you didn’t feel comfortable doing? What did you do? What advice do you have for someone like Elijah?
Shy or introverted people are often mistaken for being unfriendly or “stuck up.”
Have you ever thought someone was unfriendly, only to find he or she simply had a hard time making conversation or meeting new people? How can considering this possibility change the way you approach new people?
Do you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert? Why? How does that facet of your personality affect how you treat other people? Your choice of occupation? Your recreational choices and hobbies?
Do you think Elijah should push beyond his comfort zone and meet his family’s expectations for all the brothers to join the family business? Why or why not?
The mainstream world sees women, marriage, and family differently from how the Amish see them.
Amish women have one goal in life: to marry and have a family.
Do you find this limiting, or do you see redeeming value in it? Or some of both? Even if it’s not right for you, can you respect it?
An Amish woman living with a debilitating disease, Bonnie worries that she’ll never have the chance to be a wife and mother.
Then Elijah comes calling.
Suddenly her greatest wish is a real possibility.
Put yourself in her shoes.
As you thought about your disease’s effect on your ability to have children and care for them, what would you decide to do? What advice might you give Bonnie if she asked?
Theo and Jocelyn have known each other for only a short time, but sparks fly for the widower and the widow.
They’re falling in love.
Do you think it’s possible to fall in love so quickly? How do you feel about “love at first sight”? What advice would you give Jocelyn?
Theo decides he must return to Berlin to reconnect with his son.
Knowing she would put Bonnie ahead of her own needs, Jocelyn agrees with his decision.
How do you feel about single parents putting their children in front of their own needs? Does it make a difference that Bonnie and Noah are adults? Or that Bonnie has a progressive, debilitating disease? Why?
The Amish embrace children with all kinds of disabilities and diseases as “special children,”
as “gifts from God.”
Many people with disabilities in the mainstream world prefer not to be seen as “special.”
They simply want to be accepted for who they are.
Do you find the use of the word special objectionable? Why or why not? If you do not have a disability, can you see why someone who has one might object?
Bonnie ponders whether people sometimes have disabilities that can’t be seen—whether they be physical, mental, emotional, or even spiritual—making it hard for others to understand them or relate to them.
What do you think of this possibility? Do you see one of them in yourself or someone close to you? How do you handle it?