The Englisch Daughter

by Cindy Woodsmall

  He took a deep breath to try to avoid completely losing his temper. “I’ve given you all the money I have. I paid for Heidi’s birth and medical bills. I bought you a car. I’ve paid Daed his rent on this place for the past nine months while you’ve lived here for free. I bought all the baby items, diapers, and formula. There is no more money.”

  “Fine. I’m gone.” Tiffany grabbed her coat, went out the front door, and ran to her car.

  The door slammed behind him as he followed her across the dark lawn and hopped into the passenger’s side. He wouldn’t let her leave town until Heidi was in his arms. “You’re going to take me to Heidi now.”

  “Get out, Roy.” Tiffany started the car. Amigo shuffled his hooves a little but didn’t run.

  Roy closed the car door and buckled the seat belt. “I won’t. Just drive me to wherever she is. Then you can leave me there and be gone. You can keep the car and anything else you want. I don’t care. I just want to know where Heidi is.”

  Tiffany rolled her eyes. “You want to go for a ride? Let’s go for a ride.” She put the car in reverse and jammed her foot on the pedal, whipping it around, the gravel flying. The car lights moved across the yard, giving only glimpses of scenery. Amigo reared, but his reins didn’t pull free of the shrub. Roy couldn’t worry about him now. Tiffany put the car in drive and sped down the driveway. Was she trying to scare him? She pulled onto the main road, and the car’s tires squealed as they got traction on the asphalt.

  He wanted to yell at her and rail against how awful she was being, but that wouldn’t get him closer to Heidi. Instead he closed his eyes and prayed, God, forgive me. Protect Heidi until I can find her.

  “Tiffany, I need you to tell me where Heidi is. She’s a baby. She’s helpless and innocent. Please. Please.”

  Tiffany said nothing.

  Roy studied her face, trying to gauge what she could possibly be thinking. “I’ve been good to you. I’m sorry about that night I was on meds and you’d been drinking. But I’ve tried to step up the best I could. I understand if you need to leave, but please tell me where Heidi is.”

  She accelerated through a curve in the road, lights illuminating the way. “Ugh, fine! You’re being so ridiculous about this. She’s with Amber, okay? I dropped her off this morning.”

  Amber? Roy first saw her the night of the incident, and he’d seen her a few times since. Even if she wasn’t drunk or high, she didn’t seem capable of taking care of others. “Where does she live? Take me to her place. I’ll get Heidi, and you can go.”

  “So you don’t trust my judgment? Sheesh, Roy, maybe you should come up with some money and I’ll take you straight to your daughter.” Tiffany’s front right tire ran off the side of the road, and the car jolted.

  “Be careful.” Buggies also used this road. Roy had a flash of the helplessness he felt the day of the accident with Laura in the rig.

  Tiffany yanked the steering wheel, overcorrecting and crossing the double yellow lines before straightening the car again. “Please. You don’t drive. Don’t you dare try to give me driving lessons.” As if to push her point further, she drove in the center of the road, the car straddling the double yellow lines.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You’re used to being in control, aren’t you? With your perfect little family and the horse farm your heart always desired. Well, welcome to my life: an out-of-control nightmare.”

  Control. Was that what he was trying to hold on to by not telling the truth to Jemima? But now the situation had spiraled beyond anything he’d ever imagined. Dealing with this situation was like trying to grasp the fallen reins on a bucking unbroken stallion.

  As they drove over a hill, a horse and buggy came into view. Time shifted into slow motion, just as it had the day of the accident. He covered his face with his hands so the passerby couldn’t see he was Amish.

  Tiffany accelerated. “It’s dark. How are they going to see you? You’re an idiot, Roy. I can’t believe I ever put my future in your hands.”

  Covering himself had been a silly move, but his guilt was so thick that he felt as if it was obvious to everyone all the time.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been an idiot. I never should’ve let you move onto our property. Never should’ve had anything to do with you at all.”

  “So now you’re saying that our daughter is a mistake? I thought she was so important to you. Are we finally hitting a bit of truth, Roy?” Tiffany steered the car around a sharp bend.

  “Of course she’s important!”

  Tiffany looked over at him, taking her eyes off the road. “But her mother is disposable, huh?”

  As the car drifted to the middle of the road, Roy pointed and yelled, “Watch where you’re going!”

  “I know how to drive!” Tiffany yanked the steering wheel back to the right, but the guardrail had ended. All four tires left the road as the car went down an embankment.

  Roy felt weightless as the car skidded off the road and began careening sideways down the steep slope, ripping through shrubs and trees as if they were toothpicks. His body was like a rag doll, but his seat belt held him in place.

  Time stood still, but the car kept going. This was it. He was going to die in this car with Tiffany. A surreal acceptance and peace took over his mind. Jemima, I’m so sorry. I love you.

  The world went black.

  Eight

  Abigail’s hands ached as she pounded another nail into plywood, securing a temporary wall to the final stall. Because her phone battery had died, she didn’t know what time it was. All she knew for sure was that exhaustion had set in a couple of hours ago and there was no rest in sight. But she and Chris had turned her grandfather’s former commercial-size poultry barn into a makeshift stable with stalls the proper distance apart so any infected horse wouldn’t share the virus with its neighbor.

  Despite the conversation they’d had about twelve hours ago, Chris had been dutiful and polite. She’d kept her emotions reeled in, refusing to wish that the two of them could be warmer and friendlier, and avoiding saying anything that might make him leave the farm.

  The clattering of rigging echoed through the old barn, and Abigail caught a glimpse of Pippi shaking her head. She was at the far end of the barn, hitched to a work cart that Chris and Abigail had used to move wood from her grandfather’s storage shed to here.

  Chris walked into the barn, carrying two five-gallon buckets of fresh water. They’d built most of the stalls together, and then he’d gone to a nearby well to get water while she finished securing this wall.

  He set the full buckets on the dirt floor and picked up two empty ones. “You about done?” His tone was kind enough, but it held little warmth, little friendliness. That was annoying. Where was Roy anyway? This was his livelihood, not hers or Chris’s!

  “Close to being done.” She forced a chuckle, trying to keep things light between them. The last thing Graber Horse Farm needed was for Chris to walk away. “Why? Did you need a hand carrying the water?”

  She chided herself for asking him that. The importance of keeping a lid on her naturally spicy attitude couldn’t be overstated. Despite being thin, Chris was physically strong, and that was a necessary asset right now. It was imperative to get the animals inside before the sleet began.

  “I’m gut, denki.”

  Was that a smile tugging at his lips? Should she tell him what Roy had done with her money and why she’d come unglued with him? Her instincts said no. Chris hadn’t asked why she’d lost her temper. He saw it happen and decided she wasn’t worthy to pursue, which said a lot about him, none of it good.

  As he left the barn, she smacked the stubborn nail with the hammer over and over again. Her Daed and uncles would be here lending a hand if she told them what was going on. But the family had provided so much help after Roy and Laura’s accident last year that Roy, Jemi
ma, and she had decided not to ask their relatives for anything else. Graber Horse Farm and Roy owed everyone a debt of favors. They wouldn’t accrue more. Besides, missing a full night of sleep to work in this cold barn would be too hard on the older generation, and all the cousins had little ones to tend to.

  Abigail and Chris had raided every piece of usable wood, and when that ran out, they began taking apart the old shed. It was a historic shed, but Abigail would take responsibility for the decision if any of the family took issue with their using it.

  When the last piece of wood was secure, Abigail tossed the hammer into the toolbox and gently tugged the cowhide work gloves off each hand. Even with the gloves, she had blisters and tender red spots that would soon become blisters.

  Chris returned with full buckets of water. “This will be enough to fill all the containers and have water left over.”

  They’d confiscated all manner of odd containers from wherever they could find them and tacked them to the wall of each stall, one to hold water and one to hold feed. The water would freeze regularly during this cold snap, but there was no time or money to buy heated water dispensers, so this was all they could do for now.

  “Ya. I agree. Denki.” She brushed wisps of hair from her face using the back of her hand. There was no telling what disarray her hair was in. She’d removed her prayer Kapp and put on a much warmer white knit beanie hours ago. When the bun proved to be uncomfortable under the knit cap, she’d removed the pins but left the bun. Her guess was that half of it had fallen down.

  His eyes moved to her palms. “You need to put medicated cream on your hands and wrap them in gauze before wearing the gloves again.” His tone didn’t hint of actually caring. He was just informing someone what needed to be done. He then went to the stall she’d just finished and shook the sides to check for steadiness. For goodness’ sake, he’d put up the frame for it, yet he was inspecting her work anyway. She stifled a sigh.

  “Ya”—she spoke softly, hoping to hide her irritation—“I’ll get to that in a few hours.” She tried not to wince as she put the gloves back on. “Right now we need to go to the farm and start leading the horses here.”

  Chris headed toward Pippi, and Abigail followed. To his credit, he hadn’t complained once about doing all this work before the vet’s test results came back. But whatever spark of interest he’d had in her when they met a few days ago was clearly gone, and that had to be for the best. His presence tugged at her entirely too much. But any man who couldn’t deal with valid emotions from a woman wouldn’t be suited for her in the long run. Apparently he needed a soft-spoken woman regardless of the circumstances or how the woman felt.

  Whatever.

  She grabbed a throw blanket from the seat of the work cart as they climbed in, praying Pippi wouldn’t get sick. It wasn’t likely, since Abigail lived with her parents and she kept Pippi in her parents’ stable. But she rode Pippi to the horse farm almost daily, and when she didn’t need Pippi for her work there, she let her out in the pasture with the other horses. Even in her exhaustion, fear kept squeezing her heart, jolting her nerves. She couldn’t bear to think about any of the horses dying because of this EHV-1 virus or any other reason.

  * * *

  Chris tugged on the reins, turning the horse and low-riding cart onto Jemima’s driveway. The wind howled and sleet pelted, and he longed to be on a couch in front of a roaring fire with a huge plate of food in hand. Abigail held the blanket over her head like an umbrella, trying to keep the sleet from hitting her face. How was she holding up? He’d never seen a woman so determined to accomplish a goal.

  Jemima hurried out the door of the home, throwing a quilt around her head and shoulders. “Wait!” She ran toward them. “Is Roy at the poultry barn, or have you seen him?”

  Chris brought the horse and cart to a stop.

  Abigail pulled the sides of the blanket back, and he could see the concern on her face. “Nee.”

  Jemima’s eyes widened. “Not at all since he left here over seven hours ago?”

  “Sorry, Jem, but no.”

  “Why haven’t you been answering your phones?” Jemima asked. “I’ve gone to the phone shanty a dozen times and tried to call each of you. Roy, too, of course.”

  “My cell died around ten last night.” Abigail looked at Chris.

  “Ya, mine lost all energy before then.”

  Abigail adjusted the blanket, probably to accommodate the new direction of the wind and sleet. “My phone was last charged before school yesterday, and cold weather drains batteries.”

  “So Roy’s phone could’ve died too?” Jemima asked, sounding hopeful.

  “Ya, sure.” Abigail nodded.

  But Chris had seen Roy recharge it, using a solar-powered car battery in the stable, less than two hours before he left here. Chris wouldn’t volunteer that information.

  “Did you call the Kurtzes’ phone shanty?” Abigail asked.

  “I tried, but no one answered. Should we call the police?”

  “I can’t see that being helpful.” Chris leaned forward, peering around Abigail. “He’s an adult who left of his own free will mere hours ago. Has he disappeared like this before?”

  “Ya.” Jemima wiped her cheeks, and although it was too dark to see well, she seemed to be crying.

  “Jem,” Abigail whispered, “why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”

  “He’s trying to get the farm on its feet after missing so much time after the accident. Sometimes he leaves during the night and I don’t see him again until lunch or suppertime. I thought it would stop once he had more help.”

  “Maybe it will yet.” Abigail tightened the blanket around her. “But tonight we need to keep moving.”

  “Something is wrong.” Jemima grabbed Abigail’s arm. “I can feel it.” She tapped on the quilt that covered her chest. “We’ve got to search for him.”

  Abigail glanced at Chris, and he saw compassion in her eyes. She held up her index finger to him and lifted her brows, asking him to wait a minute. He nodded, and she stepped out of the cart.

  “Jem, look at me.” She waited until Jemima stopped scanning the surroundings for her husband. “I need you to take a deep breath and hear me.”

  “You’re not going to help me search for your brother?”

  “I can’t.” She gestured at Chris. “We can’t. We’re fighting for your livelihood, and that has to remain our focus for the next six or seven hours. There are colts, yearlings, mares, geldings, and stallions to deal with, many with past wounds and personality issues we know nothing about yet. The more stress they’re under, the less their immune systems will work on their behalf.

  “Roy’s behavior tonight sounds as if it fits with who he’s been of late. But if you’re truly desperate to search for him now rather than tomorrow after we’ve eaten and slept, call our Daed or the bishop. Get an Amish search party if need be, but Chris and I are doing all we can and more than we should.”

  Jemima blinked. “You’re right.” She wiped her cheeks again. “You’re absolutely right. Do whatever you came here for, and I’ll pack some coffee and pastries for you to take with you. I’ll put a charger cord and the cell power bank in with the other things. Charge your phones, and if you hear from him, call the phone shanty.”

  Abigail hugged Jemima and got back into the cart.

  Chris’s mind raced, taking his heart with it. Abigail was amazing. She had grit. And compassion. With the exception of Saturday night with Roy, she’d taken every setback in stride.

  His heart pounded with a desire to know her better. But he’d backed away, and she’d accepted his retreat, so it no longer mattered what he wanted.

  Nine

  Jemima urged her horse to pull the buggy faster as she neared the poultry barn, the icy grass crackling under the wheels. Maybe her visit here was completely unnecessary and Roy was home by no
w.

  She blinked, trying to clear the sleepiness and stop the tears forming in her eyes. He’s not been gone even a full day. It’s not that unusual. Then why did it feel so wrong?

  She spotted Abigail coming out of the poultry-barn-turned-stable, leading Pippi, who was pulling the work cart. Chris was behind her, shoving a toolbox onto the cart.

  “Hey.” It was all Jemima could manage to say, but she got out of the carriage with a canvas bag that held a thermos of fresh coffee and several slices of day-old apple bread. She’d given them food the last time she saw them, but that had been five hours ago.

  Abigail saw her and brought the cart to a stop. “Hi, Jem. Our phones are charged, and Roy hasn’t called or texted either of us since he left the stables soon after the vet.”

  Jemima longed to scream her fear and rage to the heavens, but she kept her movements normal while trying to reel in her emotions. She knew that Abigail or Chris would’ve already let her know if they’d heard from him or seen him. But knowing that hadn’t stopped her from hoping that Roy had contacted them during the night.

  “You guys got a minute?” Jemima pulled the thermos and a mug out of the canvas bag she’d brought.

  “Ya, sure.” Abigail patted the horse.

  Jemima wished she didn’t need their help. They had to be completely exhausted and ready to go home and sleep.

  Jemima poured coffee into the lid of the thermos. “I took Laura to school, and your substitute was there. On my way back I stopped at your home to catch a minute with your parents.” She passed the lid to Abigail and then filled the mug. “Without my asking them anything, they mentioned not seeing Roy in more than a week and said they were missing him.” She passed the mug to Chris. “I gave excuses and then told them about the possible EHV-1 situation and some of the work involved. They volunteered to keep Carolyn, Nevin, and Simeon for me and to pick up Laura from school. I took them up on it.”