A Simple Charity Read online

  As Caleb thanked the man, Fanny stared at the orange glow and wondered how so many hopes and dreams could slip away just like that.

  Rose Miller tapped her shoulder and gave her a hug. “I’m taking Tommy and Beth to our house. We’ll keep them the night, give you two less little ones to worry about.”

  “Denki.” Only after Rose left did Fanny realize that her cheeks were streaked with tears and soot. She swiped them away with her sleeve and focused on the friends and neighbors organizing into lines. The fire chief didn’t think it would help, but at least it was worth a try.

  As she went down the line, she passed so many familiar faces: Tate Jordan and Marta Kraybill. Bishop Samuel and his wife, Lois. Adam King, Jimmy Lapp, Gabe King, Ira Miller, and Zed. Her heart ached at the thought of all Zed’s work burning to cinders, but Zed had no time for self-pity. He stood in line closest to the fire, tossing water and stepping back to dodge the heat.

  Fanny took her place between Emma and Meg in one of the bucket lines. A line of men passed water from the house spigot to the burning building. Fanny was in the second line of women and children. They passed empty buckets back to the water source. The bucket brigade was slow and tedious, but it was better than standing back and doing nothing.

  When the structure began to creak and sway, everyone had to move back. The fire truck pulled closer, allowing metal poles to push the debris inside the building’s footprint. With a sad groan, the walls collapsed, leaving only the sad arched frame of the old carriage house doors.

  Steeling herself, Fanny bit her lower lip and stepped out of the bucket line. The firefighters thanked everyone and sent them on their way home.

  It was done.

  Afterward many of the folks who had pitched in stopped into the house for fellowship and rest. On Elsie’s instruction, Will had gotten the folding chairs out of the storage shed and set them up in a wide circle in the front room. Ordinarily Fanny would have been on her feet, serving food and hosting guests, but this was no ordinary gathering, and the fire had knocked the life out of her. A dozen or so people sat out in the front room, but right now Fanny preferred the relative quiet of the kitchen, where she sat at the table, warming her hands around a cup of hot cider.

  Zed sat beside her, and although neither of them had much of a desire to talk, she drew a silent comfort from his presence. His face was smudged with soot from working the line close to the smoke and fire. Throughout the terrible afternoon and evening, she’d been so glad that he was there to take action and make wise choices. The sharp prongs of the crisis had shaken loose the scales of shame and embarrassment and revealed the plain, strong foundation of love between them. She would not hide from him anymore.

  Across the table sat Caleb with his friend Kate. The girl was not afraid to get her hands dirty; Fanny had seen her moving buckets in the women’s line, working tirelessly for the hour or two that it had taken to douse the fire.

  Meg had brought over a dozen doughnuts, and Elsie had baked a lazy woman’s cake—a very basic sheet cake with cocoa flavoring. Elsie had also brewed a pot of coffee, and there was a pan of warm apple cider on the stove. Folks sure seemed grateful for a bit of something sweet and the chance to sit for a moment.

  The fire chief and one of the firemen came in from the mud porch. They stowed their long flashlights in their belts and accepted cups of coffee from Elsie.

  The chief took the empty seat at the table. “We’re trying to track down the cause of the fire, and it’s clear that it originated in the rear of the building—the kitchen area.”

  The other firefighter stared into his mug. “A couple of people heard the explosion.”

  Fanny nodded. “Our neighbors heard it and came running. What was it that exploded?”

  “An older model gas-powered refrigerator,” George said. “Looks like that was what caused the explosion. Sometimes all it takes is a spark to set something like this off. Where did you buy the refrigerator?”

  Zed caught Fanny’s eye, and she understood the need to keep this to themselves.

  “All of our appliances were donations,” she said. She knew full well that John Zook, Ruben’s father, had donated that refrigerator, but she wasn’t going to mention him by name. John Zook and his family weren’t to blame. No one was to blame.

  “These things happen,” said Caleb. “Dave Zook was just telling me about a similar explosion a few years ago near Lititz. Things can go very wrong with gas.”

  “Thanks be to Gott that no one was in the building,” Zed said. “No one was hurt.”

  George sat back in the chair with a heavy breath. “That’s the silver lining in the cloud.” He used his mug to point to the people in the room. “You can’t replace people. But property damage? With enough time and money, it can be restored.”

  The fire chief’s comment opened the door to talk of renovation.

  Fanny closed her eyes and tried not to see the gaping black giant next door as they talked of clearing the lot and raising a new building. Costly building estimates were tossed back and forth as if they were as light as a Ping-Pong ball.

  “There’s no question about it,” Caleb said, “we must rebuild.”

  Fanny opened her eyes to stare at her son. And where did he think their family would get that kind of money?

  Kate talked about the high expense of a renovation done in the bakery kitchen a few years back. Zed and Caleb and the fireman debated whether one story or two stories would be cheaper.

  When the conversation began to unravel and folks started leaving, Fanny was relieved. The incident had shaken her to the core, and she needed some sleep and time to consider Gott’s plan for her family.

  The firemen left. The front room began to empty out, and Caleb went outside to help Kate with her buggy. The bishop came into the kitchen to say good-bye, and then he slipped out the back door and it was just Elsie, Zed, and Fanny in the kitchen.

  Fanny craned her neck, trying to twist out the kinks of stress. “So much talk about rebuilding. No one’s paying attention to what’s right in front of us. This fire was Gott’s doing. Shouldn’t we learn from that? I think Gott’s telling us there shouldn’t be a birth center in Halfway.”

  Elsie and Zed exchanged a look of surprise.

  Zed’s voice was laced with calm. “Sometimes bad things happen, and it’s Gott’s way of testing us.”

  “I think this is a challenge,” Elsie agreed. “The center is a wonderful good thing for our community. Doc Trueherz says it makes for healthy babies and happy mamms.”

  “Change isn’t always a good thing.” Fanny’s mind was a jumble of thoughts, a tangle of colorful yarns that just could not be sorted or straightened. First, Anna was quitting, and now the fire … the center was gone. Maybe Gott didn’t mean her to have a successful center. After all, it was a business. Maybe she’d been a little too proud of the popularity and early success of the birthing center.

  “It’s a setback,” Zed agreed.

  Fanny pressed her palms to the table, trying to gain comfort from the nicks and scars of its surface as she faced Zed. “You remodeled nearly every inch of that building, and it’s gone now,” she said, struggling to keep the catch of emotion from her voice. “Can you really start all over? This time without even a shell? Without a roof over your head?”

  “It’s a setback, all right. A big disappointment. But the building was just wood and nails; it can be replaced.”

  “How can you bear it when you worked so hard?” Fanny asked sadly.

  “One step at a time,” Zed said. “Remember? It’s like following a recipe. You trim some boards and hammer some nails. Work hard and at the end of the day, you see progress.”

  “But progress was not part of Gott’s plan for the clinic,” Fanny insisted. The harsh truth throbbed like a wound in her heart. “Gott burned it down, and Gott doesn’t make mistakes. The dream is over … ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

  35

  Five o’clock came far too early when you were up unt
il ten or eleven trying to support and comfort a friend in need. Rolling over, Meg realized her hair smelled like the black smoke of the fire. She needed a shower before she left for the clinic in Lancaster. A shower but no food or drink—doctor’s orders.

  Tired, hungry, and thirsty, Meg pushed herself out of bed and checked her cell phone. Still no word from Jack.

  Her worry had morphed into distress. What if something had happened to him? A slippery stretch of road, a moment of distraction while driving. Bad things happened to good people all the time, as evidenced by the fire at the birthing center.

  As she stepped into the shower, her worry was compounded by the memory of the fire. What would come of Fanny’s idea to have a place for the women of Halfway to go? It certainly would have been convenient for Meg and Dr. Trueherz, as well as the women. Meg hoped Fanny could find a way to continue the good she had done for the community.

  And Fanny herself … how was she holding up? Last night she had seemed dazed, understandably so. There would have been no insurance on the building, as it was not the Amish way. The fire would pose a huge hardship for Fanny’s family. Right now Meg could only pray for her friend’s well-being and peace.

  Last night, when Halfway was in crisis, Deputy Jack was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared for an emergency, something involving Lisa; that much, she was sure of. But why was he out of touch? Last night, just before bed, she had broken down and called Kat. “I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I’m sure he’s not dodging you. He’s crazy about you, and Jack is extremely loyal.” Meg’s speculation that Lisa had been in crisis made sense. It all added up. They figured Lisa had come to town on a mission to win Jack back and then … what?

  Insecurity needled away at Meg’s faith in Jack. Whatever the circumstances, he could have at least shot her a few details in a text message. Was it too much to hope for a contrite phone call?

  This wasn’t the Jack she knew. Then again, maybe she didn’t know Jack all that well, after all.

  She quickly dressed and met Shandell in the kitchen. The Jordans’ wing off the kitchen was quiet, and Meg was relieved that Grace was letting Zoey and Tate get their sleep, at least for now. Tate would be up soon enough, putting together breakfast for his family and guests.

  With Shandell in the driver’s seat of Meg’s Subaru, Meg turned on the seat warmer and tried to sink down into herself.

  “Are you okay?” Shandell asked as she braked for a light on Halfway’s Main Street.

  “Just tired.” Meg watched the door of the sheriff’s office, willing Jack to emerge and wave. No such luck. Except for the lights in the bakery and a few Amish buggies on the road, Halfway was still waking up at 5:30 A.M.

  Shandell took a sip from her travel cup, then tentatively jabbed it toward the console, trying to find the cup holder without taking her eyes off the road. “Couldn’t sleep last night?”

  “I was up late last night with the fire.”

  “Fire? Was there a fire at the inn?”

  Of course, Shandell hadn’t heard yet. She’d been with her mother, and word among the English didn’t travel quite so fast. “There was this explosion, and Tate and I grabbed our coats and went outside to check it out …” Meg let the story spill out, pacing herself. With any luck, news of the fire would take up the half-hour trip to the hospital in Lancaster, and Shandell wouldn’t have a chance to ask her about the upshot of Lisa’s surprise visit yesterday. Right now she didn’t want to discuss the fact that she couldn’t reach her fiancé. It was embarrassing and painful.

  Chatting about the uncertain future of the birthing center, Meg eyed Shandell’s travel mug with envy. How she would love a sip … if only to wash down her anxiety.

  If the procedure went well, Meg would be checked out in the early afternoon and sent home for a week of taking it easy. Anxiety curled deep inside her at the prospect of being alone once Shandell brought her back to the bed-and-breakfast. Meg tried to imagine Jack waiting there for her, greeting her with a perfectly logical explanation, but that felt like a sugar-coated fantasy. In the real world, when people let you down, they were sending a very clear message of withdrawal and rejection.

  But that wasn’t Jack. Looking back on her time with him, she didn’t see any signs of erratic behavior, nothing to indicate that he would let her down like this. With a deep breath, she sent up a little prayer that Jack was all right, and that they would find each other on the other side of this mountain that separated them.

  36

  Although both Caleb and Elsie had offered to take Will to school the morning after the fire, Fanny had wanted the time to herself. Few things calmed the mind like a buggy ride with its rhythmic rocking and the steady patter of the horse’s hooves on the road.

  “Why do I have to go to school?” Will lamented as they rolled down the lane. “Can’t I stay home and help with the cleanup? Zed always says I’m a right good helper.”

  It warmed her to see how Zed had helped the boy find joy in daily tasks. “There’ll be plenty of work for you to do in the next few months.” The lot would need to be cleared, the debris hauled off. Beyond that, Fanny expected the land to sit for a good fifty years or so. There was no way their family could scrape together the money to rebuild in her lifetime. At least Will’s birdhouse had survived, a reminder of the dream that had almost become a reality.

  “Mamm?” Will rubbed the knees of his pants. “Are we going to be poor now?”

  It was a thoughtful question for a boy who’d just seen part of his home destroyed by fire. “We have family and food and a roof over our heads. That’s enough, isn’t it? A man is only poor when he wants more than he has.”

  Outside the schoolhouse, she held the horse and watched as he bounded up onto the wooden porch. It was good for Will to stick to his routine. How she wished for routine in her own life, instead of the topsy-turvy day ahead.

  When Fanny arrived at home, she had to brace herself to face the sight of the singed pile of rubble. The center was now nothing more than the charred ash she shoveled out of the woodstove.

  There was a horse and buggy outside the house. Inside, Bishop Samuel sat at the kitchen table, talking with Elsie.

  “Good morning,” Fanny said, even though the morning wasn’t so good at all. As a girl she had learned that a cheerful outlook could bring sunshine to a dreary day.

  “Caleb went off to borrow some shovels,” Elsie said.

  Most likely he would return with plenty of shovels and volunteers. That was one of the blessings of the Amish way. Community was not a place, but a group of familiar faces and helping hands.

  “Sit down, Fanny.” The bishop’s eyes were cool as gray river stones behind his spectacles. “Elsie is going to give us a few minutes, ya?”

  Elsie nodded and headed upstairs as Fanny took a seat.

  “There is something we must talk about.” Samuel let out a heavy breath. “Something I overheard, though I don’t go for gossip. This came right from the horse’s mouth.”

  Fanny froze, a startled creature in the woods. “So you have heard the talk about Zed and me.” Shame flamed on her cheeks as she stared down at the table. What could she say to him … a man? A man of high authority. Oh, she had to tell him the truth, of course. Honesty was the only road worth traveling. “I don’t know what they’re saying now, but I confess, part of it is true. I fancy Zed, and … and I took a liking to him while I was still mourning Thomas.”

  Samuel’s bushy brows rose above his glasses. “What’s this?”

  “It’s true.” She smoothed the skirt of her dress, tugging on the black fabric. “I meant no disrespect to Tom; I cared for him deeply. This attachment for Zed, it crept up slowly, day by day. Working here, he’s almost become a part of our family.”

  He grunted. “And what are his intentions?”

  I won’t give up on you. How she had clung to those words, day after day. She stared down at her hands. “He wanted to marry me. But we can’t, with the gossip and all.”
/>   The bishop pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and squinted at her as if she were a very unusual bird. “I think marriage would be a very good thing for the two of you.”

  It was Fanny’s turn to squint. Had she heard him correctly? “Then … then, it would be all right? We could marry?” Although Amish weddings were traditionally held in November, widowed folk were permitted to marry any time of year in smaller, quieter celebrations that required less planning.

  “I hope you do, but I don’t know this gossip you’re talking about.”

  “It started when—”

  “Nay, don’t say it.” He held up a hand. “There’s nothing to be gained by stirring the pot. Gossip is a sin. Don’t I preach that a few times a year?”

  She nodded. “I have heard you speak about it. More than once.”

  “And yet, it goes on.” Samuel sat back with a sigh. “I must pray that Gott will help me get His message across more clearly. Some church leaders think that a little bit of gossip helps keep members on the straight and narrow, but it’s a danger. A little bit of pride changed the angels into devils. A little bit of sin …” He shook his head. “It is already too much.”

  The booming thunder of tension began to drain from her, and she found herself settling into the chair, lulled by the bishop’s gravelly, soft voice.

  “The Bible says that without wood, a fire goes out, and without gossip, a quarrel will die down.” Samuel tapped the table with one finger. “Have you ever thought that if Zed and you become husband and wife, it takes the wood from the fire? No more fuel for the gossipers.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” she admitted. Such a wise man, Bishop Samuel. He had a way of showing how Gott’s plan was the pattern for even the most personal matters.

  Fanny ran her hand over the scarred table. Could it be that simple? That the way to end the nuisance of gossip was the one thing she had been denying herself? She smiled, feeling a heavy cloak lift from her heart. To have Zed back, just a heartbeat away, a part of her daily life … such a joy. Together, they would find their way down even the bumpiest road.