His New Amish Family Page 6

  She went back into the house and made a pitcher of fresh lemonade. Stacking a few plastic cups together, she carried her offering to the corral fence. Paul had the wagon positioned where he wanted it. He dropped the lines when he saw her and came toward her. “I hope some of that is for me.”

  “It is. I see you found a way to keep my children out from under foot.”

  He leaned against the board fence, took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve. “At least they won’t get stepped on up there and Gracie is as gentle as they come.”

  “Mamm, see how high I am?” Sophie called out.

  “I see. That’s very high. How are you going to get down? I don’t think I can reach you.”

  Sophie bent over to look at the ground. “I’m going to stay up here forever.”

  “Me, too!” Toby shouted.

  “Then I reckon my fresh lemonade will have to go to waste.”

  Sophie held out her hands. “Paul, get me down. I’m thirsty.”

  He walked over and turned his back to her. “Come on, Goldilocks, change mounts.”

  She clasped her arms around his neck and slid off. Carrying her piggyback, he brought her to the fence and allowed her to step off beside Clara. Sophie grinned. “I like riding Gracie.”

  “So do I,” Toby said from the horse’s back.

  Sophie looked at her brother and then at Paul. “Can we leave Toby up there forever?”

  “That is a tempting thought but I imagine he is as thirsty as I am.” He went back and lifted the boy off the horse. Carrying Toby under one arm, Paul toted the laughing boy to the fence and set him down.

  Smiling at their antics, Clara handed them each a plastic cup full of ice-cold lemonade through the fence. She held up a cup to Sophie, who was straddling the fence but the little girl hesitated. “Will it make me turn yellow, too?”

  “It won’t make you turn yellow,” Clara assured her. “It’s good for you. It has lots of vitamin C.”

  Toby looked up at his sister. “Do things look yellow to you because your eyes are yellow?”

  Sophie frowned as she considered the question. “The lemonade looks yellow but you don’t.”

  Clara looked closely at the whites of Sophie’s eyes. Whenever she had an episode of high bilirubin, Clara noticed the change in her eyes first. They were slightly yellow. More so than yesterday. Was her skin getting too thick for the light therapy to work?

  Paul seem to notice her worry. “Is she okay?”

  “I think so. Sophie, does your tummy hurt?”

  “Nope. Can I have some more lemonade?” She held out her cup.

  Clara relaxed. “You may.”

  Toby pointed toward the lane. “Mamm, I see the mailman. May I go get the mail?”

  “I want to come, too,” Sophie added, climbing down from her perch after leaving her cup on top of the fence post.

  “You can both go. Make sure to watch for cars. Toby, hold your sister’s hand.”

  “I will.” The two of them took off together.

  Paul finished his drink and handed the glass to Clara. “Exactly what is wrong with Sophie? Or does it distress you to talk about it?”

  “It doesn’t. You already know she has a rare genetic disease called Crigler-Najjar syndrome. Blood cells in our bodies are replaced constantly by new ones when the old ones die. As the old cells break down, they release a substance called bilirubin. That isn’t a problem for people like you and I because we have an enzyme in our livers that turns bilirubin into a form that can easily be removed. Sophie was born without the ability to make this enzyme in her liver. When her cells break down, the bilirubin remains in her body and that leads to jaundice. We see it as a yellow color in her skin and the whites of her eyes. What we can’t see is the damage high levels of bilirubin do to her brain, nerves and muscles. It can cause permanent brain damage and even death in a short period of time.”

  “How did this happen to her? Do you know?”

  “Like her blue eyes, she inherited the defective gene from me and from her father. We were both carriers but neither one of us had the disease. It takes two genes to make the liver defective. It’s very rare but it is seen more often among Amish and Mennonite children in Pennsylvania.”

  “How is it that Toby doesn’t have it?”

  “The doctors told us we had a one-in-four chance of having another child with the disease. God decides...as with all things in this world.”

  “Why do the blue lights help her?”

  “That is the mystery of God’s mercy. Light, particularly blue light, causes a reaction in the bilirubin in her blood beneath her skin. It changes it into a harmless product her body can get rid of easily. She needs to be under those lights for a minimum of ten hours every day. As she gets older, her skin will get thicker and it will take more hours to keep her level normal, and it will be less and less effective until it won’t do her any good at all. At that point, she will die. Any stress, like a bad cold or the flu, can cause the bilirubin to rise high enough to turn her brain yellow. If that happens, the damage is permanent.”

  “What do you look for when she gets worse?” Paul asked, glancing down the lane at the children walking back from the mailbox.

  “I must sound like I am an expert. I’m not. I only repeat the things they tell me. I don’t truly understand the science. When her bilirubin goes up, she gets a yellow cast to the whites of her eyes first. She gets sick to her stomach and very tired. Sometimes she complains of pain in her stomach. When she does, I know it’s time to take her to the doctor right away. If I wait too long, she can have seizures.”

  “What do the doctors do for her?” He sounded genuinely interested.

  “They use plasmapheresis to quickly lower the levels of bilirubin in her blood.”

  He frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”

  “It means they connect her to a machine that removes some of her blood and separates it into blood cells and plasma—that’s the fluid in between our blood cells where the bilirubin stays. Then they replaced her plasma with some from other people, added back her own blood cells and transfused it all back into her. It takes a long time because they can’t remove a lot of blood all at once. It helps but the effect doesn’t last for long.”

  “It must be frightening to live with such a sentence hanging over your child.”

  “God is good. He is our protector and our salvation. I will do whatever I can for my baby girl but I know she is always in His hands. I grieve for what she must endure. I wish I could take the burden from her and carry it myself but that is not possible. I accept that.”

  “Isn’t a transplant a cure?”

  Clara took a deep breath. “A liver transplant will cure the syndrome. She will never need the lights again if the transplant works but she will need to take medicine to prevent her body from rejecting the new liver for a lifetime. The medicine is expensive. There can be serious complications. We may simply be trading one illness for another but I have to believe it will help her.”

  “I admire your strength in the face of such sadness.”

  “I look for the bright spot in every day. I try to teach my children to do the same. God is with us. Today, the bright spot was seeing Sophie up on your horse and her smile when you gave her a piggyback ride. To you, it might have been be a little thing. To me, it will be a memory to treasure for a lifetime.”

  The children came back from the mailbox with a single letter. It bore the return address of Clara’s mother.

  Clara took it from Sophie. “Toby, why don’t you and Sophie go feed Patches. I forgot this morning.”

  “Okay.” The children went up to the house.

  Clara opened the letter. It contained a note from her mother and another envelope.

  Her head started to swim at the sight of a familiar scrawl on the enclosed envelope. She grasped
the fence behind her.

  “What’s wrong?” Paul bounded over the boards to stand beside her.

  She looked at his concerned face. “It’s a letter from Eli.”

  Chapter Five

  “A letter from your onkel? How is that possible?”

  Clara heard Paul’s voice coming as if from a long way away as she stared at the envelope in her hand. A cold chill ran down her spine, making her shiver.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice stronger now.

  She shook her head to clear the cobwebs from her brain. “I’m okay. It’s just something of a shock. It’s postmarked two days before he died and addressed to me at my mother’s house.”

  Clara quickly skimmed her mother’s note. “Mamm was as startled as I am to get the letter. She didn’t mention it when I spoke to her on the phone. It must have come later.”

  “See what your uncle has to say.”

  Clara’s fingers trembled as she tore open the envelope. She read his brief letter. “He asks about Sophie and goes on to say he had several visits from Englisch fellows wanting to buy his land. I can’t believe this. He says he came home and found a man going through his papers. The fellow asked Eli his plans for the place after he was dead. He told the man his plan was to watch his crops grow from heaven.” She looked up at Paul. “Why would anyone be that interested in this farm?”

  “I have no idea. Does he mention anyone by name?”

  “Nee.”

  “Don’t you think he would’ve said something if one of them had been Ralph?”

  “I believe you’re right about that. He goes on to say he was concerned enough that he placed his extra cash, the deed and his trust document with Daniel for safekeeping.”

  She sprang to her feet and held the letter up to Paul’s face, tapping it with her finger. “Do you see this? He says he placed some of his important papers, including the trust document, with Daniel. Not with Ralph and not with Ralph’s attorney. This is proof that I wasn’t making it up. I have to see Dan Kauffman right away. I can prove Ralph is lying. Now do you believe me?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s what you can prove that matters. He doesn’t say in this letter that he was leaving the place to you.”

  “Nee, he does not.” Her elation drained away.

  “Why did he think it was important to give the trust document to someone else? It has no value if someone were to steal it.”

  Clara shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he knew it would be needed soon if he thought he was dying.”

  “Shall I hitch up the buggy and drive you to the Kauffman place?”

  “Ja, that would be fine.”

  Clara clutched the letter to her chest. For the first time in days, she had hope, real hope that she could prove the truth about her uncle’s intentions even if he didn’t mention them in the letter. She hurried up to the house to get her bonnet and her purse.

  Toby and Sophie were both in the kitchen. “Come on, children, we are going to see Dan Kauffman.”

  “We just went there the other day,” Toby reminded her.

  Sophie patted her hands together. “Can I see the fish again? I like them. Can I feed them?”

  “Dan wasn’t home so we are going to try to see him again today. Why don’t you take some bread for the fish? Let me put your hair up right quick. Is it dry?”

  Sophie ran her fingers through her hair and nodded.

  Clara put up the child’s hair and secured her kapp with several white bobby pins. Sophie grabbed two slices of bread from the table and then Clara hustled both children outside.

  Sophie stooped to gather up Patches on the front porch. Clara shook her head. “The cat isn’t coming with us.”

  “But she wants to see the fish, too,” Sophie said hopefully.

  “Nee, she stays here.”

  “Okay.” Sophie put her down and the cat headed for the barn.

  Paul sat in the driver’s seat of the buggy with the reins in his hand.

  “You don’t need to come with me.” It surprised Clara just how much she wanted his company. The thought was quickly followed by a mental reminder that she shouldn’t depend on him. He would be gone from her life soon enough.

  “I’d like to see how this mystery ends. I’m not staying here while you do all the great detective work.”

  Could she trust him? She wanted to but was that wise?

  Maybe not but she was going to anyway. “Very well. I’m not in the mood to argue with you.”

  “I figured you’d tell me to mind my own business.”

  “I almost did.” He chuckled as he helped the children in and then moved over so Clara could sit beside him. He clicked his tongue to get the horse moving and before long they were on the highway. He set the horse to a fast pace and for that she was grateful.

  “What prompted you to let me come along?”

  She looked down at her hands clasped together in her lap. “I’m not sure. I want to believe that you are not a willing accomplice to Ralph’s plan.”

  “I will not aid him to do something illegal. I hope you find your proof.”

  She cast him a sidelong glance. “Why are you helping him? You have to know he isn’t being honest.”

  “I gave him my word. I can’t go back on that because I have learned to dislike him. What good is a man if he only keeps his word when it is convenient?”

  It was an honest man’s answer. She felt a growing respect for Paul. He was in an uncomfortable position because of her.

  “You stand to make a lot of money from the sale, don’t you?”

  “I charge the standard amount for the industry in this part of Ohio.”

  “What will you do with your windfall if Ralph succeeds?”

  “Most of the money will go back into my business. However, if we find proof that Ralph is lying and his documents are a forgery, I will not handle the sale. My reputation as an honest auctioneer and my scruples don’t have a price.”

  “I’m sorry that you may lose money over this.” She hadn’t considered that her right to the property might cause Paul harm.

  “Don’t be sorry. The health of your kinder far outweighs any risk I am taking.”

  Feeling better about her decision to trust him, Clara settled back and waited impatiently to reach their destination.

  When they turned into the Kauffman farmstead, Clara’s heart began beating so hard she could hardly draw a full breath. She scrambled down from the buggy without waiting for anyone else and rushed up to the door and pounded on it. No one answered.

  “Maybe he is out doing chores,” Paul suggested.

  Sophie tugged on Paul’s arm. “Want to come see the fish?”

  “Okay. Try the barn, Clara. I’ll keep an eye on the kids.”

  “Danki.” She scanned the farmyard for activity and started toward the large red barn.

  * * *

  Paul allowed the children to lead him to the koi pond at the side of the house. It was an impressive structure, made of concrete, and at least fifteen feet wide and twenty feet long. Water lilies in the center spread their large leaves and blooms on the surface and gave the fish a place to hide if they felt threatened.

  “See the one with the white spot on his head, I like him best.” Sophie tossed a piece of bread toward him but a quicker solid gold one got it.

  “Stay back from the edge, Sophie. It’s deeper than I thought it would be.” He heard chickens cackling at being disturbed. Glancing past the trees around the pond, he spotted a woman coming out of a henhouse.

  “Toby, watch your sister.”

  “I want to feed the fish, too.”

  “Okay, take turns.” Paul saw the woman spot him and change direction to come toward him. He walked out to meet her. Clara saw her, too, and joined him.

  “Are you looking for t
he Kauffmans?” The Englisch woman was tall and stout with short gray hair. She held a feed bucket in her hand.

  Clara nodded. “Ja, I’m Clara Fisher. I need to see Dan. It’s important.”

  “You are the one who left the note. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to stop by. I guess you haven’t heard. Dan suffered a stroke a week ago. I’m Opal Kauffman. Dan is my father. He’s in the hospital in Millersburg. I just came by to take care of the animals, water my mother’s plants and check on the house.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Clara said. Paul heard the disappointment in her voice. It had to be frustrating for her to encounter another roadblock.

  Would Opal allow them to search the house for the document Clara needed? “When do you think he will be home?”

  Sadness filled Opal’s eyes. “To be honest, his doctors give him only a slim chance for recovery. We are all having a hard time accepting the inevitable. What did you want to see him about? Maybe I can help you.”

  Clara clutched the sides of her skirt. “Your father was great friends with my uncle, Eli King. In his last letter to me, Eli said he placed an important document with Dan for safekeeping. Do you know anything about it?”

  Opal slowly shook her head. “I don’t remember seeing anything with your uncle’s name on it but I haven’t gone through Dad’s things yet. I will ask my mother if she knows anything about it.”

  “Perhaps we could look for ourselves?” he suggested.

  Opal’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t feel right about letting you search the house. I will see Mom later today and ask her what she knows about this.”

  Clara folded her hands in a pleading gesture. “Couldn’t you call her? It’s vital that I find these papers as soon as possible. If you could just look for me, I would be eternally grateful. I wouldn’t impose on you at such a difficult time without good reason.”

  The woman set down the feed bucket and pulled out her cell phone. “Okay. I’ll see if Mom answers her phone. Sometimes she keeps it off when Dad is sleeping.” She turned and walked a few feet away with the phone to her ear. Clara couldn’t hear what she was saying.