last night,” she said. “And now that I know you a little better, I’m even more eager to hear about your experiences. It’s something I’ve always admired, spreading God’s word.” She pointed. “Go that way, around the barn.”
“I don’t know if I’ve led anyone to the Lord,” he answered as he turned the key and drove slowly out of the farmyard.
“What about that boy you saved from the mob in Morocco?”
“Mousa?” Daniel chuckled again. “That rascal? It turned out that he was innocent of the theft that almost got him killed, but I’m afraid that he’s still…um…a work in progress.”
“Mou-sa? His name is Mou-sa? What happened to him? He must have been grateful that you saved his life.”
Daniel shrugged. “I’ll explain it all during my program, or at least a shortened version of life as Mousa sees it. ”
“But you kept him safe, didn’t you?”
Daniel eased the truck around the barn and corncrib. “After I brought him home, it was impossible to reform him, and even more impossible to make a convert of him. When he claimed to be a homeless orphan, my father found a respectable foster family for him and paid for his tuition at a private school out of his own pocket.”
“And?” Leah was intrigued.
“He ran away from the foster home and the school about a dozen times. Turns out, Mousa wasn’t an orphan. He had a father and a mother and nine brothers—all of whom made their living by hoodwinking well-meaning foreigners.”
“How terrible. Was your father angry?”
“Not really. Perhaps angry with himself for not investigating the situation further. But these things happen. We can’t not offer aid just because someone might occasionally take advantage of us.”
“I suppose that makes sense. There’s the farmhouse.” Leah pointed. “It’s new. The community pitched in to build it last summer when Ruth and Eli got married.”
“But I thought you said that Charley and Miriam lived here.”
Leah laughed. “They do. Ruth and Eli live in the bottom part of the house. Charley and Miriam have the top floor. It works out great because Miriam is good with animals and can’t make toast without burning it.”
“And Ruth, I suppose, cooks like your mother.”
“Exactly.” He drove slowly down the narrow dirt road that led to the little farmhouse. “And what about you? Are you a fabulous cook?”
She smiled back. “I’m learning. I have to admit, I’m a better seamstress than a cook.”
“I don’t cook at all. My mother kept trying to tell me that I might have to cook for myself, but I was always too busy to learn. And I had three sisters. They’re notorious for spoiling brothers.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” she replied. “I only have sisters—six of them.”
“More than me. I only have three sisters and two brothers, but they’re all special.”
“I’m sure they are,” Leah said. They must be, if they’re anything like you. Suddenly, she felt as though she’d known Daniel all her life. What was there about him that made him so easy to talk to? If only he was Amish, she thought.
If only…
Chapter Six
F or nearly an hour, Leah sat motionless in her chair, her eyes fixed on the screen as Daniel led his audience through the narrow alleys and bazaars of foreign cities with names that rolled off his tongue as sweet and sour as Aunt Fannie’s chow-chow. It was nearly impossible for her to keep from weeping as Daniel’s pictures showed the plight of ragged, beggar children, or the ill-fed and overburdened horses and donkeys that fought for space on the crowded streets among the honking flood of dilapidated cars and trucks.
And if the pitiful sights touched Leah’s heart and soul, so too did the hopeful scenes of the clinic where Daniel had assisted volunteer doctors and midwives in offering free medical care to the poor. Equally inspiring was the orphanage and school that the Mennonites supported to provide for homeless children, lost souls
“I don’t know if I’ve led anyone to the Lord,” he answered as he turned the key and drove slowly out of the farmyard.
“What about that boy you saved from the mob in Morocco?”
“Mousa?” Daniel chuckled again. “That rascal? It turned out that he was innocent of the theft that almost got him killed, but I’m afraid that he’s still…um…a work in progress.”
“Mou-sa? His name is Mou-sa? What happened to him? He must have been grateful that you saved his life.”
Daniel shrugged. “I’ll explain it all during my program, or at least a shortened version of life as Mousa sees it. ”
“But you kept him safe, didn’t you?”
Daniel eased the truck around the barn and corncrib. “After I brought him home, it was impossible to reform him, and even more impossible to make a convert of him. When he claimed to be a homeless orphan, my father found a respectable foster family for him and paid for his tuition at a private school out of his own pocket.”
“And?” Leah was intrigued.
“He ran away from the foster home and the school about a dozen times. Turns out, Mousa wasn’t an orphan. He had a father and a mother and nine brothers—all of whom made their living by hoodwinking well-meaning foreigners.”
“How terrible. Was your father angry?”
“Not really. Perhaps angry with himself for not investigating the situation further. But these things happen. We can’t not offer aid just because someone might occasionally take advantage of us.”
“I suppose that makes sense. There’s the farmhouse.” Leah pointed. “It’s new. The community pitched in to build it last summer when Ruth and Eli got married.”
“But I thought you said that Charley and Miriam lived here.”
Leah laughed. “They do. Ruth and Eli live in the bottom part of the house. Charley and Miriam have the top floor. It works out great because Miriam is good with animals and can’t make toast without burning it.”
“And Ruth, I suppose, cooks like your mother.”
“Exactly.” He drove slowly down the narrow dirt road that led to the little farmhouse. “And what about you? Are you a fabulous cook?”
She smiled back. “I’m learning. I have to admit, I’m a better seamstress than a cook.”
“I don’t cook at all. My mother kept trying to tell me that I might have to cook for myself, but I was always too busy to learn. And I had three sisters. They’re notorious for spoiling brothers.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” she replied. “I only have sisters—six of them.”
“More than me. I only have three sisters and two brothers, but they’re all special.”
“I’m sure they are,” Leah said. They must be, if they’re anything like you. Suddenly, she felt as though she’d known Daniel all her life. What was there about him that made him so easy to talk to? If only he was Amish, she thought.
If only…
Chapter Six
F or nearly an hour, Leah sat motionless in her chair, her eyes fixed on the screen as Daniel led his audience through the narrow alleys and bazaars of foreign cities with names that rolled off his tongue as sweet and sour as Aunt Fannie’s chow-chow. It was nearly impossible for her to keep from weeping as Daniel’s pictures showed the plight of ragged, beggar children, or the ill-fed and overburdened horses and donkeys that fought for space on the crowded streets among the honking flood of dilapidated cars and trucks.
And if the pitiful sights touched Leah’s heart and soul, so too did the hopeful scenes of the clinic where Daniel had assisted volunteer doctors and midwives in offering free medical care to the poor. Equally inspiring was the orphanage and school that the Mennonites supported to provide for homeless children, lost souls
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