This passing hour, p.21
This Passing Hour, page 21
Johann said, “Rylan, it’s Johann. I’m here too. I want to help if I can. If this is about your service to your country, I want you to know I can relate to that.”
Rylan didn’t answer.
“Is this about Afghanistan?” I asked.
“Maybe,” he answered. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I have a number for a professional you can call,” I said. “I’m texting it to you.” I quickly forwarded the number Ivy had sent to me.
“I’d rather talk to you.”
“How about if I tell you about our day?”
“Whatever,” he responded.
I started by telling him about scrounging for coats and snow pants and skis and then heading up to the mountain. I told him about Pierre seeing snow for the first time, and then skiing around the lake. Next I told him about the snowstorm on the way home. As I got to the part about the wreck ahead, he said, “There’s someone at my door. Did you send anyone?”
“Conrad texted Gabe to tell him you were having a hard time.”
“I would have texted Gabe if I wanted him to come by.”
“Well, you texted me, and I can’t be there,” I answered. “So we sent reinforcements.”
There was rustling in the background. “Did you give him your key?”
“Yes,” I said. “I did.”
“Rylan. Hey, man, what’s going on?” It was Viktor’s voice.
I heard what sounded like a sob and then Rylan’s muffled voice saying, “I gotta go. Viktor’s here too.” He ended the call before I could say good-bye.
I exhaled, trying to overcome the numbness that I felt.
Johann patted my shoulder. “You did a good job distracting him until Gabe and Viktor arrived.”
“I hope so,” I said. “I have such conflicting feelings toward him.”
Johann’s eyebrows shot up.
I quickly explained, “On the one hand, I feel sympathy for him. Losing his leg, losing the woman he loved, breaking his other leg. On the other hand, he’s annoying. The way he pits people against one another, his toying with me and my family over suing Mammi, the way he manipulates his friends.”
“He sounds broken. Like he’s been through a lot.”
“Yes. But he pushes people away, like his buddies who’d do anything for him.” I stood, feeling as if we should join the others.
“Wait,” Johann said. “I need to tell you something.”
I sat back down, perplexed. He sounded so serious.
“First, I may be getting a new job in January. I can’t tell you any more than that right now, and I won’t be able to say more about it online—not until we see each other in person. But if I can’t chat as much in the coming months, that could be why.”
“Okay . . .” Was that an excuse to not spend as much time with me online?
He leaned forward. His voice wavered a little as he said, “I can’t tell you how much your friendship has meant to me.” He took my hand. “Our chats have helped keep me sane over the last year. Your steady faith has kept me looking to the Lord.”
“Really?” I hadn’t once thought I was helping Johann. “You’ve done all of that for me, but I don’t see how I’ve been a help to you.”
“That’s because you’re an encouragement without trying. It’s never pretentious. You’re authentic. You’re transparent. And honest.”
I swallowed. Was I honest about how I felt about him? How did I feel? I hadn’t allowed myself to feel anything for him.
He squeezed my hand. Was all of this platonic? Or something more? My heart raced faster.
The blue of Johann’s eyes deepened. “I know we live across the world from each other, but I hope we can keep getting to know each other more and more, and visit again soon. Mama and I would love if you could come this summer.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
“You can think about it.”
I nodded.
He leaned a little closer. Was he going to kiss me? There was a noise out in the hall and then Treva yelled, “I’ll be right there.”
Johann let go of my hand and said, “We should join the others.”
I nodded again, both relieved and disappointed he didn’t kiss me. But, surprisingly, more disappointed than relieved.
Johann stood. “Someone should text Gabe and see how Rylan’s doing.” For a blissful minute, I’d forgotten all about Rylan.
I stood too and led the way out of the office.
When we reached the kitchen, Conrad was texting someone. He glanced up at me. “Viktor called an ambulance for Rylan. It seems he took something—maybe pain meds—right before they arrived.”
It wasn’t until the next morning that I finally heard from Gabe. He said that the ER doctor had pumped Rylan’s stomach and then sent him to the VA in Philadelphia. Marko and Viktor were going to see him that afternoon. I wasn’t surprised that Marko would put aside his frustration with Rylan and go see him.
The next three days were filled with fun and worry. After a day of hanging out at our place, helping with the last of the U-cutters, Treva and Pierre stayed to help Daniel with the tree farm while Ivy, Conrad, Johann, and I went into Portland. It was sunny and clear and in the mid-fifties, quite the contrast to our day on the mountain. Johann bought a tile trivet with an image of Mount Hood on it for his mother. I bought Gran a handmade pine-scented candle. And Conrad bought a pair of sterling silver earrings for Ivy, who had gotten her ears pierced a few months ago.
Afterward, we bought elephant ears and walked along the Willamette River. As we reached the Hawthorne Bridge, my phone dinged. It was a text from Marko.
Wanted to let you know that the VA doc finally convinced Rylan to go on an antidepressant. Would you pray that it will help? And pray for patience for Viktor and me? We’re out of ideas to help him.
I texted back.
Thank you for the update. I’m praying for all of you.
Ivy asked, “News about Rylan?”
I nodded and relayed the information without saying who the text was from.
“That’s good to hear he’s getting the help he needs,” Ivy said. Then she and Conrad increased their pace and moved ahead of us.
“Was the text from Gabe?” Johann asked.
“No,” I answered. “It’s from Marko.”
“Wait, who’s Marko?”
“Viktor’s cousin.”
“Oh.” He smiled. “Got it.”
I returned his smile. “You’ll have to come to Pennsylvania to meet all of them in person.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I’d like that. When? Before summer?”
“How about for my graduation in May?”
“And then you’ll come to Ukraine in July or August?”
I wanted to, but I’d never traveled by myself. Softly, I said, “I hope so.”
Ahead of us, Conrad reached for Ivy’s hand. She turned her head toward him and gave him a sweet smile.
My heart lurched. Johann leaned toward me, and for a moment I thought he might take my hand again. I wanted him too. But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “I like Portland. It’s a beautiful city.”
“It is,” I answered as we passed an older man on a bench. He wore a tattered Vietnam Veteran hat and appeared to be homeless.
I dug a ten-dollar bill from my pocket and offered it to him.
He had a surprised expression on his face as he whispered, “Thank you.” I hurt for the old man in front of me. And for Rylan. And for Johann too. I thought of Rosene’s story and about Dirk, Andreas, and Pavlo. And of my great-grandfather Jeremiah too. He didn’t serve in the war, but the hospital where he worked was its own kind of war zone.
I wanted to serve, but I didn’t see how anything I did could compare to what those around me had done. And what Ivy would do. What kind of person did I want to be? I knew if I took over Mammi’s store, God would use me. But was there something more He might have for me, regardless of my mental health issues and quirky personality? I knew God could do all things—but I still needed to be realistic.
What God might have for me was one thing, but I sensed perhaps there might be more I wanted for me too.
Brooke, Daniel, and their boys left Christmas Eve morning for Eugene. Pierre opted to stay with us, which seemed to make Treva happy. I helped Gran as much as I could and insisted she rest. Ivy, Treva, and I found Mom’s fondue pots in the pantry. We grated cheese and cut apples, pears, broccoli, cauliflower, and bread. We also dug chocolate out of the baking drawer and made chocolate fondue too.
After we ate, we gathered in the living room around the fireplace, and Conrad read the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke and then we exchanged small gifts. Johann brought carved and painted Ukrainian Easter eggs for all of us. Pierre gave us all French chocolates that I was pretty sure Brooke had donated to the cause. Conrad handed out packets of Amish peanut brittle. Ivy gave us personalized collages. Treva made a plate of her famous chocolate chip cookies for each of us. And I gave everyone a bookmark made from a map of an area unique to them. Ivy’s was Portland. Treva’s was Lancaster County. Conrad’s was Goshen, Indiana, where he’d gone to college. Pierre’s was Frankfurt, Germany, where we’d all met. Johann’s was Berdyansk, Ukraine, where he’d grown up.
“Do you have the leftovers from the maps with you?” Ivy asked.
I nodded.
“I have the supplies to make collages,” Ivy said. “Maybe we could do that tomorrow.”
I doubted the guys would want to, but Johann said, “That sounds like fun.”
The three of us girls fixed Christmas dinner, insisting Gran rest. We were all afraid of overtiring her. We decided to follow Rosene’s menu for holiday meals and roast two chickens. I’d gotten the recipe for Marko’s vinegret salad and also for Rosene’s broccoli salad. Ivy made Haitian patties—pastry dough stuffed with sauteed ground beef, garlic, onions, and peppers.
As we sat around our family table, Gran said a beautiful prayer, thanking the Lord Jesus for His coming to earth to teach us how to live, thanking Him for each of us around the table, and then thanking Him for Mom and Dad and the legacy they left behind. After she said, “Amen,” she lifted her head and said, “Conrad, Johann, and Pierre, I wish you could have known Isaac and Malinda.”
Johann cleared his throat and said, “I think I speak for the three of us when I say that through their daughters, we have a glimpse of them. Because these three young women are good and kind and serve others. Your daughter and son-in-law raised them well.”
“Amen,” Conrad said.
Pierre added, “I’m in complete agreement.”
I blinked back tears.
After we cleaned up from Christmas dinner and Ivy began pulling out her collage supplies, I stepped into the office and called Rylan.
When he answered, I said, “Merry Christmas.”
He grunted.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Miserable.”
“I’m sorry.” Perhaps I shouldn’t have called.
“I’m better than I was, though,” he said. “Although I don’t think the medicine is working yet. Viktor and Marko brought me Christmas dinner. Some weird Ukrainian food, but it was good.”
“They celebrate this Christmas?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought they’d celebrate the Russian Orthodox Christmas.”
“I don’t think so. . . .”
That was interesting.
We talked for a little while longer and then he said, “I need to rest. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
I headed upstairs and grabbed a folder from my room and then returned to the dining room. Johann was cutting out pictures of snow scenes from an old skiing magazine of Dad’s, and I sat down beside him.
“How’s Rylan doing?” he asked.
“Better.”
I hadn’t made a collage with Ivy before, but I’d been watching her make them for years. She documented her own history that way, with collages about her childhood and our parents. She’d also made one for the history of our great-grandmother Clare after she heard her story. I’d been printing out photos, collecting maps, and saving verses and poems for a few years, thinking I’d like to try collaging. I’d put the maps in the same file.
I opened it and pulled out photos from Germany and a screenshot of video chatting with Johann. Then I took out the verses—A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity. And Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. My favorite quote was A map says to you, “Read me carefully, follow me closely, doubt me not. . . . I am the earth in the palm of your hand.” It was from Beryl Markham, adventurer and author.
I cut different shades of green paper and glued those down first. Then I layered the maps, photos, verses, and saying.
“You came prepared,” Johann said.
I nodded as I pulled out two final pieces from my folder. One was a saying by Lois Lowry from her book The Giver. “What do you think? Should I use this one?” I read, “‘The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.’” I flipped to the second piece of paper. “Or this one. ‘Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.’” It was from The Story Girl by L. M. Montgomery. Mom had read both books to us.
“Do you have room to use both?”
I examined my board. “You don’t think it will be too crowded?”
“No,” he said. “Both are important.” He held up his finished board. It was all snow, trees, frozen lakes, and sections of Ukrainian maps with the saying, Kindness is like snow. It beautifies everything it covers.
“The quote is by Kahlil Gibran. I need to add that,” he said.
“The board is lovely,” I said.
He smiled. “Ukraine is lovely too.”
“I hope I can visit. . . .” I wanted to meet his mother in person. I wanted to see what a country at war was like, even though I wouldn’t be anywhere close to the war zone.
Johann put his hand on top of mine. I flipped mine over and grasped his. I didn’t know if I’d go to Ukraine or not, but Johann was like a familiar landscape to me.
But landscapes could change in a minute—earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes. And lives could too.
If only I was normal. If only a visit could just be a visit. I let go of his hand and put the remnants of my maps back into my file.
◆ 24 ◆
Three days later, after we packed the SUV for the ride to the Portland airport, Gran called the three of us girls into Mom and Dad’s office, leaving the three guys to chop firewood.
“I want to pray for the three of you before you go back to Pennsylvania.”
Gran sat down in Mom’s rocking chair, I sat down in the office chair and scooted toward Gran, and Ivy and Treva sat on the floor. Gran prayed for our studies, for our relationships with Mammi and Dawdi and Rosene, and for our other relationships too. After she said, “Amen,” Gran said, “I’ve enjoyed having all of us together, and with Conrad, Johann, and Pierre too. It gives me a glimpse of the future.”
Baffled, I left the room first. What was Gran talking about? Sure, Ivy and Conrad might end up getting married. But I hardly knew Johann. And Treva and Pierre had just met.
A few minutes later, though, as Treva hugged Pierre good-bye, I realized I was as dense as I’d always suspected. Clearly they had feelings for each other.
“Tell Brooke, Daniel, and the boys good-bye for us,” Ivy said to Gran after she hugged her.
“They’ll be here soon,” Gran said.
Pierre grinned. “I’ll watch over your grandmother until they arrive.”
I wished he could stay in Oregon instead of going home, but he’d be returning to Haiti in a couple of weeks.
Because our luggage filled up the back of the SUV, I sat in the middle of the back seat, and Treva and Johann sat on either side of me. Ivy slowed as we passed the accident scene, which was covered with snow. Tears stung my eyes, but I swallowed hard and managed not to cry. I felt the urge to rub my scar, but Johann reached for my hand before I raised it. Then we were on our way, leaving Gran and our forest home behind.
I didn’t know what my future held, but I knew one thing. I’d make an appointment with my therapist when I returned to Lancaster County. I needed to figure out a few things—what to do about Rylan, how I felt about Johann, and what I wanted for my future.
Rylan texted the day after we arrived home that he needed a ride home from the hospital.
I texted back.
Can Marko or Viktor or Gabe give you a ride?
They’re all working.
Obviously, I knew Gabe was. If he wasn’t, I would be. And I should have known Viktor and Marko were.
I’ll be there in two hours.
Hurry.
It was 10 a.m. I called my therapist’s office and left a message to make an appointment, quickly showered, dressed, and then padded out to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee for the road.
Ivy was making a second pot. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“Where are you going?”
“To pick up Rylan.”
“At the VA in Philly?”
I nodded.
“Are you okay doing that?”
“I think so,” I said. “I’ve been there before.”
“It snowed during the night.”
“Oh.” I stepped to the window. The parking lot was covered. I checked my weather app. The temperature was twenty-eight, and it wasn’t going to get any warmer until afternoon.
I checked my traffic app. It didn’t seem any worse than usual, but I texted Rylan and told him it might be twelve thirty before I arrived.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Ivy asked.
“Don’t you have something going on today?”
She nodded. “I’m going to go observe a social worker at an elder care center for my thesis.”
“I’ll be fine.” I didn’t want her to cancel. Honestly, with so many elderly relatives and no one in our parents’ generation around to help, I was relieved Ivy was focusing on helping the elderly. She would know what to do when we needed to care for Rosene, Gran, Mammi, and Dawdi.
