A Different Kind of Heaven

by Tammy Shuttlesworth

  Noah tossed his head in the air and snorted. They had been together so long, Joshua barely had to guide his mount, which gave him plenty of opportunity to think, to probe his heart and decide what he wanted above all else. Each time, the image of Callie inserted itself in his mind, and just as quickly, he forced it away. To remember the pain in her eyes was worse than not being able to do anything about it. Being on the trail, at least, was a tangible way he could help.

  In order to return safely once he left the group, he would need to keep his wits about him. He studied a line of ominous black clouds to the south.

  “Looks like we are in for a bad one,” he called to the men who had accompanied him. “Let us find shelter and bed down for the night.”

  “What about the others?” one asked.

  Shadow and another had gone ahead to scout for tracks. The plan was for the group to meet up each night. With the storm heading in, they had no choice but to abandon that for now.

  “We will catch up with them tomorrow.”

  He was proud of the distance they had put behind them. Following the muddy red river had not been difficult. Very little brush grew along the banks, allowing them to keep the horses close to the water.

  Joshua had not liked agreeing to let Shadow and the other man go. He would have preferred they all stick together, but as Shadow had pointed out, “We can search better if some of us are looking for tracks while the others come along behind, carefully scanning the terrain for Sarah and Levi.”

  Joshua had nodded, and after a quick prayer in which he beseeched the heavenly Father to guard their footsteps, he had sent them on their way. Each evening, they selected a resting place and waited for Joshua and the others to join them.

  The decision to stop now had not been easy. A forbidding tremor worked up his spine, but he passed it off. What choice did he have? The cloud bank was bearing down on them faster than he had realized, and if they didn’t hurry, they would be caught out in the open.

  The anxious looks on the faces of his fellow searchers said they, too, were worried about not meeting the other two as planned. He gave them a quick smile.

  Forks of lightning split the sky and he pulled on Noah’s reins. “Let’s find cover, boy.” He clucked to his mount and Noah picked up his heavy hooves and began to move hurriedly back down the hill.

  ❧

  Callie was unaware of the problem until someone pounded on her door. “There has been a storm,” came the shout.

  Flying down the footpath, her anxiety rose as her eyes traced the storm’s destructive path. After sweeping across the east end of the garden, it had torn through a once sturdy pole fence, then pounced upon four cabins, erasing their roofs as easily as children cleaned their slate boards in school.

  Branches and leaves were scattered across the greening grass, and chunks of chinking were strewn about. The storm had moved on as rapidly as it arrived, allowing brittle sunshine to illuminate the mission. Fear roiled in her throat, but she thrust her head up, determined to meet this disaster head-on.

  “The wounded are at the meeting house,” Brother David called from across the clearing where he was already tugging at logs that had been carelessly tossed about by the wind.

  She patched minor cuts and bruises, reassured all those she treated that everything would be fine, and wandered back to the entrance. Now that she knew no one had been seriously injured, the sun’s glow seemed softer, as if God had lessened the blow.

  The worst she had treated had been a bump on Levi’s father’s head, a wound he sustained by falling over a chair leg in his haste to see the storm’s damage. Callie selected a quiet place off to one side from which to watch the activity. Raindrops glittered in the debris-strewn grass and the dusky sun warmed her skin, but there was a hollow feeling in her soul.

  The families whose homes had suffered the brunt of the wind huddled together, staring wide-eyed at what was left of their lives. Brother David ran back and forth, seeming to be everywhere at once. A faded gray shirt thrown over his shoulders and a look of fatigue on his face, he hollered directions and paced among the damaged cabins. Someone near Callie called out to him. He hurried over. She watched as he cocked his head and listened to the man explain something.

  The elder straightened and looked about him, assessing the situation. Reeling off names, he pointed to the front of one of the cabins.

  “See what we can salvage and pile it out of the way.”

  His gaze met Callie’s. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her, but gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment before turning back to his damaged dream.

  Callie surveyed the storm’s hopscotch method of reclaiming for nature what had come from nature in the first place. The sight left her nauseous, but she forced the queasy feeling away.

  A handful of men joined them, their sleek dark hair pulled away from their faces and plaited in tight braids down their backs. They stared together, their jaws tight as they surveyed the scene.

  “We must gather whatever we can that is still usable,” Brother David said, dismissing the group.

  Soon, a pile of usable roof slats stood as a silent tribute to their will to begin anew. Farther away, another pile was growing—it consisted of damaged boards and materials that they would later burn.

  While the men worked, the women, led by Ruth Lyons, were inside preparing a meal. Callie joined them. Ruth bustled around, heaping mounds of thin pancakes onto a wooden platter and directing Callie to stir the maple syrup she was warming in a pot over the fire.

  The sugary smell of overdone maple filled the cabin. Callie helped collect the sticky sap each year. Some of it was used to make sugar; the rest was boiled down until it became the sweet-tasting liquid in Callie’s pot. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the pleasing scent.

  When there was nothing else to rescue from the damaged homes, the men headed to David’s cabin to eat. Sitting out back, eating flatcakes, they discussed how they would reroof the cabins. With full stomachs and aching muscles, they returned to their labors.

  Callie checked on the injured she had treated earlier, then went home. She tried to put out of mind the rhythmic thudding of axes that meant restoration of the mission was underway. She realized with a start that Joshua’s home had been one of those that had lost its roof.

  What would he do now? Where would he stay? Would it matter? Perhaps he would see this as a sign he should not stay at Schoenbrunn. Somehow, the thought filled her with gloom.

  Ruth Lyons called out, pulling Callie out of her misery. Without much enthusiasm, Callie motioned for the woman to enter. Strands of silver hair hung from the bun that was usually tightly wound against the back of the older woman’s neck, and Ruth’s gray eyes were bloodshot.

  Callie shifted clothing from a chair to the table to clear a seat. After some small talk, during which both women politely avoided talking about Sarah and Levi, their conversation turned to the storm. Callie recounted the injuries.

  “I am so grateful they were not worse than they were,” she finished after describing everything she had treated.

  Ruth’s face brightened. “If it were not for that fool husband of mine, you would have had next to nothing to treat, is that not true?”

  Callie agreed, though with little spirit in her words. As if by mutual agreement, they speculated on how long it would take to fix the damaged homes. They determined it would be at least a full week, barring any work on the Sabbath three days hence.

  Ruth sighed. “If I know my husband, he will be growling for food again soon.” She moved to the door. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  Callie shook her head and watched as Ruth departed.

  She was glad Ruth had come by, for now, without anyone to speak with, memories of Joshua ran through her heart. The way he had stood, poised and confident, as he prepared to leave to search for her sister and Levi. The way he had appeared to want to reach out and push away her fears but held back as if he were afraid she would shove him aw
ay.

  Thinking about him did no good. It would not bring him back, nor would it bring Sarah and Levi back. Despite her best intentions, she continued to see Joshua’s laughing blue eyes staring at her. Finally, disgusted with herself, she headed back to the damaged portion of the settlement to again offer her help.

  The men had reconstructed a roof frame for one cabin, and with grunts and groans, they were raising it into position. Using a blunt mallet, they forced the notches together where they did not line up just right. A hatchet in someone’s hand thudded on the opposite end, chipping off a segment that was too long.

  In minutes, the skeleton was in place. All that remained was to fill the gaps with lengths of bark, then add mud and let the sun’s heat dry it. Men were sent to the river to collect yellow clay for the chinking. Months of experimenting had proven the yellowish, tacky earth made the best filler.

  While the workers were gone, mugs of cold spring water were prepared. When the men returned with the clay, they mixed it with the water and busied themselves spreading the mixture between logs.

  Callie contemplated why she had returned to watch the men. So I can tell Sarah what is going on, she thought, until she remembered that Sarah was not at the mission, and then she had to wipe at the tears that formed.

  Abe Solomon and another man tugged at a log protruding tenaciously from the earth where high winds had planted it. Brother David had a portion of another log wedged under the buried end and was trying to pry the first one out from the hole it was buried in. The only thing they had succeeded in doing was making the mire around the hole slipperier than it had been when they started.

  Abe threw his weight against the log. At the same time, the elder pushed down. Abe slipped and fell, splashing mud and bits of bark over all of them. There was a moment of strained silence. All who were watching held their breath. Then the men moved away from the log, holding their sides and laughing.

  Before long, a mud-slinging contest had ensued.

  “If you cannot beat them, join them,” David’s baritone rang out. He slung a particularly gooey mass of mud at Abe.

  The ruckus brought youngsters, who rapidly realized a game was in progress. Even the most timid child was soon picking up grubby handfuls and heaving them, not caring who they hit. A glob landed on the elder’s forehead and dribbled down his eyebrows, giving him the appearance of having raccoon eyes.

  A rich peal of laughter rang out. For half an hour the men tossed mud with abandon while the women watched from a safe distance, some with smirks on their lips, others enjoying unrestrained laughter, a rarity for them.

  Ruth Lyons launched a double-size handful of mud at her husband. The sight of the demure woman aiming at and hitting her spouse generated a spontaneous roar from those who were not participating. While the men destroyed the once green ground, Callie watched, knowing that once their joy was exhausted, they would turn back to more serious things. Even so, a small chuckle worked its way out of her own mouth.

  ❧

  The search party returned two days later, announced by the squeals of children racing through the settlement and accompanied by the grunts of horses who knew they were home. Pushing aside the dress she had been mending, Callie’s heart jumped to an unnatural rhythm. Not because she would see Joshua, she told herself as she patted her curls under her bonnet, but because Sarah might be with them.

  And if Levi were with her, she would, well, she would find a way to handle that. She’d had a week to think, and after spending the first few nights tossing in her bed, she had come to the conclusion that Levi had taken Sarah with him because Callie had made herself unavailable.

  Speeding toward the meeting house, she barely noticed that spring seemed to have fled along with the search party a week ago. The May afternoon was warm, filled with sunshine and trees now in full bloom. She tried to stroll, but it didn’t work. She was too eager. She imagined Sarah standing there—humbled and repentant—and her steps quickened.

  She found herself rounding the meeting house along with other settlers, her feet barely skimming the ground. The riders were off their mounts, their arms enveloping their families. The horses pawed the ground, giving notice that they, too, expected attention.

  As she entered the area where the horses were tethered, she could not help but count the animals.

  No! That was the wrong number!

  She counted again.

  Four.

  Her footsteps slowed while shivers danced on her spine. Four horses were too few to have returned with her sister.

  Around her the laughter of riders hugging their way through reunions pierced her heart. Her mind refused to accept what she already knew—that she was not looking for Sarah as much as for a lanky frame. But there was no dusty slouch hat topping a head of wavy black hair among those who had returned.

  She stood motionless for an eternity before Brother David’s arm went around her shoulder in a fatherly way, and he spoke softly, drawing her away from the back of the meeting house as he did.

  “The men say Joshua refused to come back.”

  She wrenched away and covered her ears with her hands.

  The elder was not deterred and continued. “It is not what you think. They found tracks. The others knew they were expected, so. . .”

  She whipped back to face him.

  “But they did not find them,” she said. She scowled at her feet and ground a tuft of grass into the dirt with her shoe.

  He shook his head as if it were the last thing in the world he wanted to do. “Not yet. That is why Joshua stayed on the trail. He ordered the rest to come back without him.”

  “Why?”

  If he were out there alone, how much danger was he in? At least Sarah had Levi with her.

  “He told the others it was something he needed to do,” Brother David said.

  “By himself? Who does he think he is? He has no help. No food. He could become hurt.” She tried not to sound too alarmed, but failed miserably. Her words certainly did not overcome the ominous pang in her stomach.

  “He is a man driven by the desire to do the right thing, just as you do, as any of us will do, when faced with a crisis. I admit he is in dangerous country. The reports about the soldiers who seek to control the rivers and streams for furs are not good. Nor are the reports we are hearing about the Indian raids that have begun.” He heaved a deep sigh. “We must pray that God will keep Joshua safe.”

  Prayer! What had that gained her lately? It had not helped Suzannah, nor had it brought her sister or Joshua back. Her stomach clenched.

  “I have prayed since the day I discovered Sarah missing,” she blurted. Only she knew how many petitions she had whispered.

  “Then you have been faithful. Now you must wait for God to reveal His response at the time He chooses.”

  “What if His answer is that none of them comes back alive?” she asked, barely able to fight off the fear revealed in her eyes.

  He did not attempt an answer.

  “Where do I go from here?”

  “You go nowhere, Callie. This is your home.”

  Home? It was where she lived, where she prayed, where she hoped. But home? No, she had no home. Home meant family, happiness, hope. She had none of those left.

  eleven

  The next few weeks passed in a fog. Several travelers arrived from the sister mission downriver, Gnadenhutten, known affectionately as “Ja-nade-den.” The German name meant “huts of grace.” Most of the Delawares living there had traveled with Brother David on his initial pilgrimage out of Pennsylvania and knew almost everyone at Schoenbrunn.

  Like their Moravian brothers and sisters, they were a serious folk, struggling to achieve perfection and looking toward the future with hope. Most had left behind family members and understood the loss Callie endured.

  Though the two settlements were separated by a scant few hours of travel, they did not gather together often, and when they did, there was much to catch up on. They shared stories of crop planting,
participated in worship services, and helped to clear the land.

  The women fussed over Callie, encouraging her without mentioning Sarah’s name. Callie didn’t bring it up either, for to do so might bring up Joshua’s name, which she could not seem to sweep from her thoughts.

  Occasional joys reminded Callie that life went on. For example, there was excitement over a new convert baptized into Christ and happiness over the birth of a babe to a family from Gnaden. But even that last was bittersweet, for the birth brought back memories of Joshua assisting Suzannah when they had lost Sophie Ruth.

  Callie had cleaned up the red and squalling infant and abruptly handed it to the mother before hastening away, unable to stay because she was not comfortable.

  The days seemed hopelessly long without anyone to talk to. Quite often she went to the base of a tree near the cemetery and sat, staring off at the distant rolling hills as if being around those at peace would in some way soothe the ache in her breast, an ache which she realized could be attributed to the fact that she wished to see Joshua one more time, if only to ask him about the orphanage.

  One day, she dug scraggly dandelions from a patch growing wild and planted them carefully on the three Solomon graves. Her tears mingled with the clumps of dirt as she patted the earth into place around their roots. Occasionally she looked toward heaven for an answer.

  God seemed strangely silent, and she couldn’t help but wonder if He had forsaken her much as Sarah had turned from Him.

  July was half over when Brother David announced plans for a fellowship day. According to the nineteen rules of conduct each member of their society had agreed on when they established the mission, dancing and drinking spirits were not allowed. The children played games in the newly cleared pasture, and the adults spent the day feasting and moving about among the small groups that formed.