Amish Outsider

by Marta Perry

  Allie, at least, was quite impressed. She and Ruthie had wedged themselves into the front with him. Her eyes grew a bit wider as traffic increased.

  “What if the horse is scared of the cars?” She pressed a little closer to Michael’s side.

  “Daisy isn’t afraid,” Ruthie answered before Michael could say a word. “She’s been around cars lots and lots. My daadi trained her himself. Sometimes I give her a bite of apple or carrot when we take the harness off. You can, too, if you want.”

  “You put it right in her mouth?” Allie sounded awed. And scared.

  “You put it flat on your hand like this.” Ruthie held out her hand stiffly, palm up. “She nibbles it right off.”

  “I’ll bet her lips tickle,” he put in. “It’ll make you giggle.”

  Allie didn’t look as if she looked forward to that, so he backed off.

  “Only if you want to. You don’t have to.”

  She shot him a look of gratitude and turned her attention to Ruthie, who divided her time between pointing out the sights and admonishing her little brothers, who’d started being restive in the back.

  By the time they reached the park, Michael decided it was time for a break. He drew the horse up under the trees, where a hitching rail had been provided. Clearly this was familiar to his sister’s kids. The boys immediately ran toward the sliding board while Ruthie clutched Allie’s hand and led her toward the swings.

  So Sarah thought he could manage four kids, did she? She was overrating him. A quick comparison of the height of the sliding board and the size of the twins told him he was needed more there than with the girls. With a few quick cautions to Ruthie and Allie, he trotted across to where Jacob and James were already scrambling up the ladder.

  “Take it slow.” He remembered to speak to the boys in Pennsylvania Dutch. They had a smattering of Englisch already, but he wouldn’t risk it.

  “Yah, Onkel Michael.” The one in front, Jacob, he thought, responded for his twin.

  “You’re Jacob, right?”

  He nodded, grinning. “How did you know?”

  “Just a guess.” Actually, Aunt Verna had given him the secret—Jacob, a few minutes the elder, usually spoke for both of them.

  A few minutes of watching convinced him that the boys could handle themselves. He’d stay here, just in case they got rambunctious, but he was free to look around.

  The park was busy on this sunny Saturday. Ruthie and Allie seemed to be talking to a pair of Englisch girls about their age. He had no doubt that Ruthie started it—she didn’t seem to consider anyone a stranger. But as he watched, he saw Allie speaking, too. Tension eased in him at the sight. Allie was warming up. Despite the problems that dogged him, maybe coming here had been the right decision.

  He checked the boys again, and then moved his shoulders uneasily. An odd feeling crept over him. A sense of something out of place...something he’d seen that hadn’t registered.

  Turning casually, he scanned the park again. His gaze stopped at the jogging path where it ran close to the playground.

  That was it. One man was visible, dressed for a run, but he wasn’t running. He was staring right at Michael.

  As if he realized he’d been seen, the man stiffened. For an instant he turned away, maybe to resume his run. Then he turned back and walked quickly toward Michael.

  For a moment Michael’s mind was blank. Then something about the man...the slight build, the sandy hair, the oddly awkward way of moving, brought remembrance. Randy...Randy Hunter. He had been part of the circle of teens around Diana...hopelessly infatuated with her even when she laughed at him.

  There was no time to consider how to handle the encounter...the man had reached him. And a quick look at Randy’s face told him that this would be no cautious welcome back. Anger blazed in the faded blue eyes, giving them more passion than he ever remembered seeing.

  “I heard you’d come back. I couldn’t believe it.” His voice was raised, and Michael took a hasty look around.

  The boys were preoccupied with each other, laughing as they came down the slide in tandem. Allie, thank goodness, was safely out of reach.

  “This is my home.” He wasn’t going to apologize for existing. But he wouldn’t start a fight—not with Randy, not with anyone.

  Randy’s face twisted. “This was Diana’s home before you took her away. You took her away, but that wasn’t enough for you. You made her miserable. You killed her.” His hands doubled into fists.

  “Take it easy, Randy.” He kept his voice low. Calm. “You don’t want to start a fight here.”

  He could see the effort the man made to control himself. If he swung at Michael the children would see...

  Randy’s face tightened, and beads of sweat formed at his hairline. But he stepped back. “I wouldn’t dirty my hands.” He spun and strode blindly toward the road.

  Michael discovered he was shaking. Not for himself. It might have given him pleasure to flatten somebody at this point. But it had been such a close thing. Allie might easily have been standing nearby. She could have heard what Hunter said.

  Revulsion swept through him. He could have gone elsewhere—anywhere that he might be able to get a job. But then who would take care of Allie? This was where he had support.

  Suddenly Allie and Ruthie were on either side of him, tugging at his hands. “Ice cream,” Ruthie said. “The ice cream truck is coming. Don’t you hear it? Mammi said you’d get us ice cream.”

  Right. The world might be crumbling around him, but the tinkling bell of the ice cream truck had to be answered.

  “You didn’t forget, did you?” Ruthie prodded.

  He managed to grin. “No, I didn’t forget. Call your little brothers, and we’ll have ice cream.”

  And then he’d take them home and give some serious thought to where he and Allie went from here.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BY THE TIME the ice cream had been eaten, Michael found it was necessary to wipe off sticky faces and hands in the water fountain. Fortunately nobody objected to this unorthodox way of washing up.

  “It’s just water, ain’t so?” Ruthie said when James held back for a moment. Michael was beginning to see that Ruthie had her mother’s strong streak of common sense. “Put your hands in and don’t be a silly.”

  James obediently followed orders and finished up by wiping his hands on his pants. Whether Sarah would object or not, Michael had no way of knowing, but she was the one who’d landed him with all of the kids, so she could take the consequences.

  By the time they were in the buggy and headed homeward, the sour remnants of his encounter with Randy had faded. Maybe it was the company of small children that helped—at least they were distracting.

  Ruthie and Jacob were the chatterboxes, while James and Allie listened and put in a word now and then. It amused him to see that Jacob was like his mother while James was as calm and slow-spoken as Lige. They seemed to balance each other.

  Why had he so seldom had a simple outing like this with Allie in the past? He’d worked long hours during the week, true, but he could have done more on the weekends.

  The truth was that it hadn’t occurred to him that he could. From the time Allie was born, his tentative attempts to be involved with her care had been brushed aside by Diana.

  That’s not the way to do it. It had been a constant refrain, usually followed by a comment that if he wanted to help he could wash the dishes or take out the trash. He’d gradually gotten to the point that he stopped trying.

  That had been wrong. He saw that now that he was all Allie had. But surely the distance between them wasn’t unbridgeable.

  He glanced down at her, sitting so close to him on the seat. “Allie, do you want to drive the horse?”

  She gave him a look that mixed awe with eagerness. “Could I?”

  “I don’t see why not.�
� They were coming down the stretch toward the farm now, with no traffic in sight to scare her. He put one arm around her, holding the lines steady. “Now take hold of the straps, right by my hands.”

  To his surprise she didn’t hesitate. She grasped the reins firmly. “Now, just keep your hands steady. Daisy knows the way home, even to Aunt Verna’s.”

  “She does?”

  “For sure,” Ruthie said. “Horses always know when they’re going back to the barn. That’s what Grossdaadi always says when we finish something. ‘Time to go back to the barn.’ That means we’re done.”

  How strange to hear his father’s familiar words echoed in Ruthie’s lively treble. It pinched at his heart. Ruthie obviously had a relationship with Daad. No matter how implacable Daad’s anger against Michael, anyone would think he’d want to see his granddaughter.

  But apparently not. Oddly enough it was regret he felt, not resentment.

  There was no time to consider it, since they were reaching home, and in a few moments the children were climbing down, vying with each other in the attempt to tell the adults all about everything.

  When he’d unharnessed and Allie had fed the buggy horse the promised apple, Michael headed back to the greenhouse to see if he could be of help. He found Lige carrying flats of impatiens back into the greenhouses.

  “Need some help?”

  Lige nodded toward the flowers still on display. “We’d best take a few more under cover. Sounds like we might get a quick thunderstorm sometime tonight. You know how those spring storms can bring winds.”

  “Right.” He picked up a couple of flats and started to follow Lige. He stopped, frowning when he saw how full the racks still were. Either they’d been refilling them all afternoon or...

  Verna and Sarah were still listening to an account of the ice cream cleanup when he interrupted. “What’s happened here this afternoon? It looks as if you’ve hardly sold a thing. I thought this was supposed to be a big day.”

  Sarah glanced at his face and then chased the children off to play before answering. “There’s plenty of time for sales. Folks will be buying for the next few weeks.”

  “Come on, Sarah. I still know when you’re trying to soften the news. Sales are off, aren’t they? Because of me.”

  There was an echo of instant denials, but he could see the truth when it hit him in the face. People were staying away from the business because they didn’t want to be around a man who was, in their minds, guilty of murder.

  He should have seen it. If he had thought...but he’d been selfish and ignored the possibility. Well, he couldn’t ignore it now.

  “We’ll have to leave,” he said flatly. “That’s all.”

  “Ach, don’t talk nonsense.” Aunt Verna’s tone was crisp.

  “It’s the truth, it’s not nonsense.” The words were bitter on his lips. “I should have known better than to come here.”

  “Where else would you go but to family?” Sarah demanded. “Do you think we’re so intent on making money that we’d put it before family?”

  “You belong here.” Aunt Verna grasped his arm in a wiry grip. “Nothing changes that.”

  “Folks will komm back.” Lige’s calm voice took the conversation down a level as he paused in what he was doing. “No sense deciding something serious based on a few hours’ business. Give it time.”

  “Yah, that’s right.” Aunt Verna still grasped his arm, and he realized her hand was trembling. “You’ve only been here a few days. Let things settle.” Her fingers tightened. “Yah?”

  He couldn’t argue, not when he saw a suspicion of tears in her eyes. So he nodded.

  There was a general sense of relief. “Look, here comes a customer now.” Sarah nodded to the car turning in the lane. “Leave those impatiens for now. That’s Mrs. Grandage, and she always gets them for along her porch.”

  Michael nodded. Murmuring an excuse, he headed back to the greenhouse, figuring his absence was better than his presence right now.

  But this wasn’t over. No matter how much they wanted him to stay, how could he if it was going to ruin the business Aunt Verna had spent years building? He needed time to think.

  That was just what the women seemed determined not to give him. Between them, Aunt Verna and his sister kept him busy with a score of unimportant small jobs until he was ready to shout at them that he was fine, just fine.

  He wasn’t fine. Wouldn’t be, not unless someone did figure out who’d pushed Diana down those steps. And the more time that passed, the less likely it seemed that the truth would ever come out.

  Some people probably wouldn’t believe it even if the cops arrested someone else. Randy, for instance. He’d been carrying a grudge since they were teenagers, and now it had a focal point.

  Finally the afternoon came to an end. The last few flats were carried under cover, and Sarah, with baby Sally on her hip, began collecting the rest of her children. That was when Michael realized that Allie was missing.

  “Allie!” A quick check of the house and barn didn’t turn her up, and Michael’s momentary annoyance turned to fear.

  “I’ll check the outbuildings,” Lige said. “She might be in the henhouse.”

  It was a matter of minutes before Lige returned, shaking his head.

  Panic ripped through him. Where could she be?

  Sarah put a hand on his arm. “Don’t panic. We’ll find her.” She eyed Ruthie and gestured the child to her. Ruthie came reluctantly, looking anywhere but at her mother.

  Sarah bent to her child, tipping Ruthie’s chin up so that she had to look at her. “Ruthie, do you know where Allie is?”

  Ruthie’s lips pressed together in a straight line. Michael pushed down the need to demand answers. Let Sarah deal with it—she’d get results if anyone could.

  “Ruth Ann Esch, I am waiting. What do you know about where Allie is?”

  Ruthie held against the power of the maternal tone for another moment. Then she crumbled. Her lips trembled, and tears filled her eyes.

  “I’m s-sorry, Mammi. I...”

  “Tell me this instant.” Sarah’s voice allowed no excuse.

  “We—we heard Onkel Michael say they would go away. And she cried, and then she said she must hide someplace, but I said that wouldn’t help. So she said she must go to Teacher Cathy because she would help.” She seemed to run dry.

  “And then what?” Sarah wasn’t satisfied.

  “I showed her the path to Teacher Cathy’s house,” a small voice admitted.

  Michael swung around on the words. The path...through the woods and along the pasture to the Brandt farm. She’d never go that far, would she? Maybe, if she was desperate enough. Michael started to run.

  * * *

  CATHY MOVED THROUGH her mother’s strawberry patch, pulling the few weeds that had dared to pop up next to the plants. The tiny berries had begun to get a bit larger every day, and it wouldn’t be long until they’d begin to change color. There would be strawberry shortcake to look forward to by the end of May.

  Saturdays were a welcome change to the busyness of the school week. She’d do her planning for the upcoming week, of course, but that left time for helping Mamm and working in the garden. After the constant verbal exchanges of a school day, she enjoyed just being quiet for a bit.

  “Cathy!” Daad’s call startled her, coming so suddenly. She straightened, spotting him by the barn, gesturing for her. “Komm, schnell!”

  Jumping lightly over the intervening plants, she hurried toward him, alarmed by the urgency in his voice. He clearly wasn’t hurt. One of the animals?

  When she reached him, Daad put his finger to his lips to enjoin silence. “Hush, don’t frighten her. Just komm.” He grasped her hand and led her into the barn, where he nodded toward the corner.

  Cathy blinked, her eyes trying to adjust to the dim interior after the brigh
t sunshine. Then she saw. Huddled into the space between the grain barrels in the corner was a small figure. Allie Forster.

  Her breath caught. She sent a questioning look at her father.

  “I just spotted her when I came in,” he said softly. “I tried to talk to her, but she seemed scared. So I thought it best to call you.”

  She nodded and moved slowly toward the child. Allie did look frightened, and she couldn’t begin to guess why. Or why she was here.

  “Allie.” She kept her voice soft and calm. “I didn’t know you were coming to see me.”

  For an instant Allie seemed to shrink back, her brown eyes wide and blank. And then she burst into sobs and threw herself at Cathy.

  “Hush, now, hush.” Cathy sat down on the wide planks of the barn floor and wrapped her arms around Allie. “It’s all right. You’re safe. You’re fine.”

  Allie’s body was racked by the sobs she couldn’t seem to control. There was nothing for it but to hold her snugly, stroke her shaking back and croon to her softly. The words didn’t matter. The comforting sound—that was what counted just now. She might not have a child of her own, but she’d been a child, and she knew what Mamm would do. Hold and comfort until the bad dream, whatever it was, seeped away.

  “There, now, that’s better.” The sobs were lessening, and she could feel Allie trying to control them. “It’s all right. Take your time.”

  She glanced at Daad. He leaned against a stall, waiting with the patience bred in a man who worked with the land and the animals. He answered her look with a nod, agreeing that the child was doing better.

  “Take her to the house,” he said softly. “Your mamm will help.”

  Yes, that was the thing to do. Get Allie calm and comfortable in the familiar surroundings of a kitchen, and she’d be able to tell them what was wrong.

  “Komm, now,” she whispered to Allie. “I’ll take you in the house, where we’ll be comfortable. No use sitting on the barn floor when my mamm will be sure to have some cookies and milk, yah?”

  Allie didn’t let go, but her head moved in assent. Cathy smiled despite her concern. The worst of the storm was over. She’d be all right.