"Hiya, bruder," Verna Wickey greeted as Simon stepped inside the dimly lit store. She was barely a year older and had been a healing balm to him after losing Lizzy, Claire, and William. Simon still struggled with the loss of his family and couldn't make heads or tails of the accident that claimed them so suddenly. Verna also called him bruder more than bishop, which Simon didn't mind, despite her doing so in jest.
"Is Willis already out in the shop this morning?" Simon asked. Verna's husband not only owned Wickey's Bulk Foods Store but ran his own cabinetry shop too. Talk of a shoe store was being whispered about the community, but Simon knew Willis had a good many months yet before he'd find time to move forward with the idea.
"Nee, he's helping Joel and Rachel put up new cabinets today." Verna beamed extra brightly at the mention of her married son. It wouldn't be long before Verna was a grandmother again.
Simon was happy for his nephew, but it never changed. Each time he married a pair of lovesick folks, a tinge of sadness fleeted through him, a reminder of his own wedding day and all he had lost.
"It is gut they have been healthy while so many are sick. Did you hear the Schwartz kinner have come down with this flu too?" Jah, Simon could always depend on Verna to know who needed called on.
"Nee." Simon removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair, strolling to a dim corner where medical supplies were, and Verna followed. Simon latched hold of a bottle of acetaminophen.
"Carlee Hooley has taken to the fever too," Verna informed him. Carl Hooley's daughter was no more than a child of eighteen, but hopefully Judy's soup and zucchini bread would help get them right again.
"Susie came by yesterday for a few things. I wish we had more medicine." Verna looked at the sparse shelf. Her vast store was filled to the rafters, yet held nothing that cured a simple summer flu. A few salves and ointments had a spot next to the Raber's Goat Milk soaps and lotions, but they would do nothing to help Michael right now.
"I had nothing to give her but my prayers. I remember Mamm making tea with yarrow and honey when we were kinner, but it's too late in the season."
Simon didn't remember that. He had never been much of a tea drinker, but perhaps Michael would do better with it. "Yarrow?"
"It's a weed." Verna waved off his question. "You just be careful when you and the elders call on folks. It's awful catching," she ordered in sisterly fashion.
"Gott's will, schwester," Simon reminded her. "I did hope you had something to help Michael. He's feverish...and coughing."
"Ach nee. Michael is krank?" Her voice suddenly grew concerned. Verna was a mother hen.
"He has a cough and no appetite."
"Have you tried soup? I've seen your oatmeal and burnt pancakes." Verna reached behind a line of pink-colored soap bars and fetched a dark purply bottle. "I have cough syrup but only one left." Before offering it to Simon, she glanced to the front of the store. "Perhaps Laura and Lydianne can see over things for today. I can make soup and come see over Michael."
"I can make soup," Simon replied, ignoring her lack of faith in his parenting skills. He had been both mamm and daed for a dozen years now.
"I will make the soup. We know how you are with a pot. Just don't be like Carl. If Michael gets worse, take him to the doctor."
"I will." Simon pulled out his wallet to pay for his things. He could never be as stubborn as Carl Hooley.
"Susie wanted to take Carlee to see the doktor in town, but you know Carl. I reckon you should remind him we must do what is best," Verna said, handing Simon back his change.
"He does not trust the Englisch, but if you are thinking I should speak to him, we both know his ears are closed to any thoughts I have." Carl Hooley was one of three parents who, during Simon's first year as Cherry Grove's new bishop, had lost a son to the outside world. The young men chose life away from their Amish upbringing, and Simon knew that Carl had hardened his heart toward him for it. A man could study Gott's words furiously to always have the answers to those seeking them, but sadly Simon couldn't find the right ones to convince Carl that his son's decision was his alone.
Worse, Carl's bitterness had grown to a point of refusing to sell his goods at any of the Englisch markets. When Englischers stopped to buy new spring plants, Carl shut down the greenhouse Susie so happily worked at to help bring in extra income. Now Carl wasn't selling any of his lawn furniture either. Slowly, their livelihood was shrinking, and soon they would have to depend on the church. Simon had no qualms with spreading out financial help equally, but it was a terrible thing when a man let his hurt eat at him to a point of suffering.
