Chapter 3
A dam Chupp looked at the return address on the envelope and sighed.
Another month, another check. He added the envelope to the stack of mail in his lap, then turned his wheelchair and headed for the house.
A fine layer of powdery snow covered the gravel driveway, but it didn’t hinder his progress.
His chair was small, light, compact, and without armrests, which he preferred.
But on days when the snow was heavier and thicker, he couldn’t manage his chair by himself.
He made sure to take advantage of the winter days he could spend outdoors.
He rolled his chair up the back porch ramp and through the back door and put the mail on the kitchen counter, keeping the one from Jalon.
Then he went to his bedroom on the first floor of the house and tossed the letter, unopened, into the top drawer of his bureau.
He already knew the contents of the envelope.
His cousin had been sending him money for years.
Later this week he’d cash it at the bank.
He didn’t want to, but Jalon gave him no choice.
A check every month, without fail, and without any other type of correspondence.
Not even a note saying, “Hi” or, “How are you?” Just a check. As if that made up for the loss.
Adam stared at the drawer. He’d tried to convince Jalon he didn’t need his money.
He also didn’t want it. When he received the first check, he sent it back, along with a scathing letter—at least as scathing as a fourteen-year-old boy could write.
Jalon promptly sent the check back. Adam tore it up.
The next month, he got another one, double the amount, since Jalon knew Adam hadn’t cashed the first one.
So Adam called him. The conversation was short on words, but long on guilt.
Jalon’s guilt, which was thick in his voice as they talked.
After Adam hung up, he realized Jalon hadn’t agreed to stop sending the checks.
At that point Adam gave up and accepted the money. What other choice did he have? If it made Jalon feel better about what happened, then why stop him?
He figured his cousin would eventually stop on his own, once enough time had passed.
He hadn’t. His checks arrived exactly the same time each month, year after year, for the last ten years.
That was Jalon, though. Precise and thoughtful, even as a kid.
Except for one time, and that had changed everything.
Adam left his bedroom, refusing to let his mind go too far into the past. Looking at the future was what had helped him cope with his disability. That and living in the present, something he never took for granted.
He glanced at the clock on the wall in the living room.
He had a couple of hours before he had to go to work in his uncle’s hat shop.
His aenti Tabitha and onkel Jeremy lived next door, which was convenient.
The job was part-time, though, and he needed to find something full-time.
More to the point, he needed a career, something he could do with his limited mobility.
Being Amish definitely narrowed his options.
Still, he wasn’t about to give up his faith for the sake of a job.
He trusted that God would lead him to find work that paid enough for him to live on his own.
That was his goal and, at twenty-four, it was past time he’d attained it.
He went to the set of bookcases against the wall. They were custom made, half the height of regular ones, and placed next to each other. Dozens of books lined the shelves, all his. If he could make a living reading, he would be rich by now. But it wasn’t about being rich. It was about independence.
Scanning the bookshelves, he spied a book on investing, one he’d purchased a few months ago but hadn’t gotten around to reading. He put the book in his lap, wheeled himself near the woodstove, and began to read.
“What’s today’s topic?” his mother said as she entered the room, carrying a laundry basket. She set it on the couch.
Adam held up the book, Investing Made Easy. “Riveting stuff.”
Mamm chuckled. “I’m sure. It’s a change from those farming books you’ve been reading.”
Placing the book in his lap, he nodded. “Kind of got burned out on that.” Especially since the more he read about farming and animal husbandry, the more he wanted to do it.
His father had always worked in a factory in Middlefield.
Other than gardening, which Adam enjoyed doing, he’d never had the opportunity to farm.
It was unlikely he ever would, not here in Mespo. Farmland was scarce and expensive.
Then there was the issue with the wheelchair.
Adam knew he was capable of a lot, but managing a farm and animals wasn’t one of them, not on his own.
That hadn’t stopped him from making a few sketches, though.
He’d designed an accessible barn, a grid for crops, and a one-level house complete with an accessible kitchen and bathrooms. Yes, more than one bathroom.
Being independent wasn’t his only desire.
A wife and family were also on the table.
Another goal that seemed far away, but one he had faith in.
God had gotten him through years of pain and disappointment.
His faithfulness wasn’t going to change, and Adam’s faith wasn’t going to waver.
“You’ve always had a variety of interests.” Mamm sat down on the edge of the couch.
Adam moved closer and looked inside the clothes basket.
These were his clothes, stiff from being outside on the porch drying in the cold air.
Shortly after the accident, once he’d accepted that he’d be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, he’d insisted on doing his own laundry, and sharing in the cooking and cleaning too.
His mother had balked at first, then let him have his way.
Now they split the chores, but Adam still folded his own laundry.
He picked up a pair of socks. “Maybe I’ve got too many interests.
I’m having trouble narrowing things down. ”
“You’ll figure it out. God has a plan for you.”
“I think I might have heard that before.” He winked. “A dozen times or so.”
“And it’s true every time.” Mamm stood. “Have you seen Leanna since she arrived?”
Nodding, Adam said, “Once. While I was at Onkel Jeremy’s. She stopped by. Said she wanted to get together soon.”
“ Gut. She’s like a breath of fresh air, isn’t she?”
“She’s a breath of something.” He rolled the socks together. He liked his cousin, but she could be overwhelming sometimes. It was amazing she and Jalon were even related. Leanna was outspoken, energetic, a whirlwind. The opposite of the reserved steadiness he remembered in Jalon.
“I wish Jalon would visit.” Mamm sighed. “I miss that bu .”
Adam did too. Before the accident they were close.
Adam had always looked up to Jalon, who was not only serious-minded most of the time, but also faster and stronger.
That spurred Adam to try to keep up with him.
He knew how to have fun too. When they were kids, they used to fish, hunt, play volleyball, climb trees . ..
He threw the socks on the couch. Now their relationship consisted of a monthly check.
“Leanna told me she tried to convince him to come this time,” his mother added, “but he said he was busy working.”
“So I’ve heard.” Adam didn’t doubt Jalon worked a lot. But he also knew the real reason his cousin avoided Mespo.
“Anyway, maybe we’ll visit them soon.”
“Maybe.” Adam quickly folded a pair of pants.
The visit wouldn’t happen. Jalon’s family used to visit Mespo often, before the accident.
The one time his family went to Birch Creek, everything had changed.
His parents hadn’t been back since, and Jalon’s family didn’t return to Mespo for a long time. The accident hadn’t affected only Adam.
“When are you heading over to Onkel Jeremy’s?” Mamm asked, picking up the empty clothes basket.
“In an hour or so.”
“All right. I’ll see you at supper, then. We’re having fried chicken tonight.”
One of his favorites. He smiled and watched his mother leave.
When she was gone, his smile disappeared.
Another thing he rarely let himself do was think about the impact of his disability on his parents.
He was their only child. He was sure they’d had hopes and dreams for him before the accident—ones they’d had to adjust and, possibly, change altogether.
They were always encouraging, but more than a few times over the years he’d seen the worry they’d tried so hard to hide.
He piled his clothes on his lap, covering the investing book. He went to his room and put them away, then put the book on his bed. He’d read it later, after supper. Although he didn’t have a firm plan for his future, he had to educate himself until he did.
God has a plan. Adam believed that with all his heart and soul. He just wished God would reveal what it was.
On Wednesday afternoon, Phoebe ran to the mailbox at the end of the driveway and opened the front lid.
She frowned at the empty space. Was the mail late?
She was expecting a letter from Jalon today.
He was always on the spot with sending his letters.
For the dozenth time she wondered if she’d made a mistake by putting him off for a visit.
What if he saw through her flimsy excuse?
What if he decided he didn’t want to see her anymore?
Or worse—he’d decided not to write her back?
She closed the mailbox and another, sharper thread of panic wound through her.
What if her aunt had picked up the mail already?
Phoebe made it a point to get it before her aunt did, and so far Aunt Bertha seemed fine with that.
It wasn’t as if her aunt received a lot of mail, anyway.
Still, if she discovered any of Jalon’s letters . ..