“Can you get copies of her curriculum and any test scores? Each state has different requirements. I’m not familiar with what Texas requires.”
“I’ll have my attorney get what he can and send it to me.” Caleb had already paid the firm a big chunk of his savings to gain temporary custody of Joy. Whatever it took, he was willing to do. His one overriding fear was that Valerie could get Joy back and all of this would have been for nothing.
Leah stared at him for a long moment. “What happens when Joy’s mother returns for her and wants to take her away?”
He shifted his gaze to his hands on the steering wheel. It was a question he couldn’t answer. He wanted Joy to know security and happiness. His attorney was working to sever Valerie’s parental rights on the basis of abandonment, but Caleb wasn’t sure what would happen if she returned to fight for custody.
“I left a letter for Valerie with her stepfather and one with my attorney if she should come looking for us. I let her know I was taking Joy to my folks. She knows they’re Amish. I’m hoping she’ll realize that Joy is better off with them and stay out of her life.”
“Shouldn’t you pray that she sees the error of her ways and wants to reunite with her daughter?”
“You can pray for that if you want. I won’t waste my time. God doesn’t listen to me.” Caleb had stopped praying a long time ago.
Sadness filled Leah’s eyes. “God hears everyone’s prayers. Perhaps you are the one who has stopped listening for His answer.”
He tipped his head to the side and tried for a lighter tone. “Maybe you should pray for me, then.”
Her chin came up a notch at his challenge. “I will, Caleb Mast. I will do just that.”
Joy finished petting the horse, picked up the grocery bag and came running toward the truck. He got out and held open the door as she raced around the hood.
“Did you see me? I touched a horse, a real horse. Not a pretend one. His name is Benny. He belongs to Anna. I want a horse.”
He smiled at her excitement. Taking the bag of groceries from her, he handed them to Leah and then lifted his daughter into the truck. “You’ll meet lots of horses at your grandpa and grandma’s farm. Cows, too, and chickens and ducks, but no elephants.”
“Do they have a dog?”
Caleb glanced at Leah. “Do they?”
“They don’t have a dog, but I do. Her name is Trixie, and she is going to have puppies soon. I’ve been trying to think of some names for them. Have you got any suggestions?”
Caleb breathed an inward sigh of relief. Leah seemed to be on board with his plan. While she might not like helping him, he had to trust that she would do what was best for Joy.
He drove out of town with a renewed sense of hope. This might actually work. If Joy was happy and safe, he couldn’t ask for more.
“If your dog has a girl puppy, you can call it Princess,” Joy said from the backseat.
Caleb smothered a grin and waited for Leah’s reply. She tilted her head slightly. “I think Princess is much too fancy a name for an Amish dog. She will be a working dog.”
“What kind of work can a dog do?” Joy asked.
“My puppies will grow up to herd sheep and cattle, just like their mother and father do.”
Caleb glanced at Leah. “Are they border collies?”
“English shepherds.”
The breed wasn’t well-known outside farming communities. Similar to the border collie in size and coat texture, they were often sable and white or tricolor. Unlike many herding dogs, English shepherds were used to guard as well as herd cattle, sheep, goats, pigs and even fowl. They made excellent farm dogs.
“Pete would be a good name,” Caleb suggested.
“Not for a girl dog, Daddy,” Joy said in disgust.
“Right. Not for a girl dog,” he conceded.
Leah half turned in the seat to speak to Joy. “Can you think of another name?”
Joy was thinking, so Caleb ventured a second suggestion. “Matilda.”
“No.” Joy shook her head. “I don’t like that name.”
“Okay, how about Tilly? It rhymes with silly,” Leah said.
He glanced at his daughter’s face in the rearview mirror. She grinned at Leah. “No, not Silly Tilly. I like Pickles.”
“Ja, I like pickles, too. Dill pickles, sweet pickles, even bread-and-butter pickles. Do you like pickles, Caleb?”
“I do. I like pickles on sandwiches and on hamburgers. I like to eat the little crispy ones right out of the jar.”
Joy shook her head. “Not pickles to eat. Pickles for a name. I want to call the puppy Pickles.”
“Ach, I see.” Leah nodded solemnly. “Pickles is an excellent name. If my Trixie has a girl puppy, her name will be Pickles.”
They’d gone only half a mile down the highway when they came upon a buggy traveling in the same direction. Caleb slowed to a crawl, unable to pass on the hilly road.
“Does your family know you’re coming?” Leah asked.
“I wrote. I wasn’t sure when to tell them to expect us.” He hadn’t mailed the letter until the day they left. Up until the moment he dropped the letter in the mailbox, he’d hoped he could find a way to manage his life with Joy in Texas. Admitting that he couldn’t was a bitter pill to swallow. He simply didn’t know where else to turn.
Leah lapsed into silence until he had the chance to pass the buggy. As they went by, she sat back and muttered, “Oh, no.”
“What?” He looked in his rearview mirror but didn’t see anything amiss.
“That was Esther Zook.”
“The bishop’s wife?”
“The same.”
“Has she changed any in the past decade?”
“Nee, she has not.”
“So gossip about you riding with an Englisch fellow will be spreading before the sun sets tomorrow. Good to know some things never change. Will it be better or worse for you when she learns it was me?”
“You were not baptized. No one must shun you.”
“Some people will think I should be.”
“Not everyone has a forgiving nature, in spite of what we are taught.”
He glanced at her. “Do you?”
“Have a forgiving nature? I thought so, but I find it is something I must work on.”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted. For some reason, he wanted to know that she had forgiven him for leaving the Amish, for straying so far from the path laid out from his birth. It was a foolish thought. He was grateful she was willing to consider teaching Joy. That was enough.
“I live in the same house. It’s past the next hill on the right-hand side of the road, a short mile after the school.”
“You still live with your folks?”
“Nee, they are gone now.”
“I’m sorry.” He slowed as he topped the rise. The school building and schoolyard were just as he remembered them. He would have to tell Joy to look for his name carved under one of the desks. The lane to Leah’s home came all too quickly. He turned in and hoped Joy would say goodbye without making a fuss.
Her face took on