Grace gasped. “Oh, that’s baremlich!”
Martha nodded soberly. “I know it’s terrible. Alma was a friend of Mom’s, and she’s terribly broken up over this.”
Grace stared at the table as tears gathered in her eyes. “After last night, I didn’t think things could get much worse around here, but I guess I was wrong.”
“What happened last night?”
“First, I ran into Gary Walker in the hallway outside the women’s restroom at the restaurant.”
“Did he say something to upset you?”
“Gary always says things to upset me.” Grace swallowed hard. “I wish he’d leave Holmes County and never come back.”
“I’ve been praying for that—not just because you think he’s the one responsible for the attacks, but because I know that seeing him makes you think about the past.”
Grace sniffed and turned to reach for a tissue from the box sitting on the counter behind her. “Something else happened last night that upset me, too.”
“What was it?”
“When Anna and I got home, we found a package on the porch.”
“A birthday present?”
“I thought so at first.” Grace blew her nose and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I made the mistake of letting Anna open it, and—”
“And what, Grace? What was inside the package?”
“A dead maus.”
“That’s ekelhaft! Who in their right mind would do such a disgusting thing?”
“Gary Walker, that’s who.”
“You really think he’s responsible?”
Grace nodded. “As I’ve told you before, he said he would get even with me someday.”
“That was several years ago. Surely the man’s not still angry because you married his friend.”
The back door opened, and Ruth stepped into the room. “Whew, this is some weather we’ve been having. You should have seen all the water on the road. I had a hard time seeing out the front buggy window on my way home.” She set her umbrella in the milk can next to Martha’s, hung her shawl on a wall peg, and hurried over to the table. “Have you got any tea made? I could sure use some about now.”
Grace reached for the pot sitting on the table and poured her sister a cup of tea.
“Have you heard about Abe’s Alma? Is that why you’re here?” Martha asked as Ruth took the offered cup.
“Haven’t heard a thing about Alma. What about her?”
“She’s dead. Struck down by a lightning bolt right there in her yard.”
Ruth’s eyes widened. “Ach, what a shame!”
“That leaves Abe with six kinner to raise. He’s surely going to need some help in the days ahead,” Grace put in.
Ruth nodded with a somber expression. “I’m sure their relatives will pitch in.”
Grace moaned. “So much sadness going on around us these days. Sometimes I wonder how much more we can take.”
Ruth set her cup down and reached over to touch Grace’s hand. “Despite the sad news about Alma, I’ve got another piece of news that might bring a smile to your face.”
“What news is that?”
Martha leaned forward. “I’d be interested in hearing some good news for a change, too.”
“That reporter you used to date came into the bakeshop today, and he mentioned that his work was done here and that he’d be heading to Wisconsin soon to do some stories about the Amish there.” Ruth squeezed Grace’s fingers. “Now you can quit worrying about running into him every time you go to town. And if the attacks on us should quit, we’ll know he was responsible.”
Grace sighed as a feeling of relief flooded over her. Maybe now they could stop worrying about being attacked and concentrate on helping Abe and his family plan Alma’s funeral and make it through the days ahead.
Chapter 43
The sky was a dismal gray, and the air felt much too chilly for a spring morning, but at least there was no rain on the day of Alma Wengerd’s funeral. As family and friends gathered at the cemetery to say their final good-byes to Alma, Ruth’s heart ached for the six children Alma had left behind. Molly, age two; Owen, who was four; six-year-old Willis; Esta, age eight; ten-year-old Josh; and the oldest, Gideon, who was twelve, huddled close to their father as they stood near Alma’s coffin.
Alma had been only thirty-two years old when she’d been snatched from the world so unexpectedly. The sweet-tempered woman, still in the prime of her life, would never see her children raised or enjoy becoming a grandmother someday. It tore at Ruth’s heartstrings to think of these little ones without a mother, and she wondered how Abe would manage to take care of the house, do all his chores, watch out for the children, and run his harness shop.
She glanced over at Martin, who stood near his parents. He hadn’t attended the main funeral that was held at Abe’s house, but he’d shown up in time for the graveside service. Ruth wondered if he would be expected to do more work at the harness shop now, since Abe would have additional family responsibilities. Martin seemed like such a kind young man, and she felt sure he would do all he could to help lighten Abe’s load.
If Ruth didn’t already have a job at the bakeshop in town, she might offer to work for Abe as his maid, but she’d heard that his unmarried sister who lived in Illinois would be coming to care for his children.
As Alma’s four pallbearers lifted the long, felt straps that had been placed around each end of the coffin and lowered it slowly into the ground, Ruth drew her attention back to the gravesite. Death was a horrible thing, and she couldn’t imagine how Abe must feel after losing his wife of thirteen years. The closest people Ruth had ever lost were her grandparents, and she couldn’t conceive of how it would be to lose a mate.
As short boards were placed over the casket by one of the men, Abe bent down and scooped his youngest child into his arms. Maybe Molly had become fussy, or perhaps Abe had picked her up in order to offer himself some measure of comfort. The tall man with reddish-brown hair and a full beard to match showed no outward signs of grief other than the somber expression on his face.
Gideon leaned over and whispered something in Josh’s ear, and little Esta moaned as she clasped her two younger brothers’ hands.
Ruth wanted to dash across the space between them and gather the children into her arms. Instead, she reached one hand out to Martha, who stood to her left, and the other hand out to Anna, who stood on her right, looking as though she might break into tears. Was Grace’s daughter thinking about the passing of her English grandmother? Had Alma’s death been a reminder of what Anna had lost? Grace looked on the verge of tears, too. Perhaps her greatest sorrow came from the fact that her husband wasn’t at her side, for Cleon hadn’t returned home yet and probably didn’t even know about Alma’s death.
As the pallbearers filled in the grave, the bishop read a hymn from the Ausbund, a few lines at a time, and a singing group followed. Then the grave was filled in and the soil mounded. Everyone turned away, wearing solemn expressions, and moved slowly toward their buggies.
Everyone but Esta, that is. The young girl dashed across the grass and, sobbing as though her heart would break, threw herself on the ground next to her mother’s grave.
Abe stood as if he was torn between getting his other children into the buggy and going back to offer comfort to his grieving daughter. No one else was close enough to notice the child. Even Ruth’s family had left the gravesite, but she’d stayed put, waiting to see what Abe would do. Finally, when she saw him move toward his buggy again, she rushed over to Esta and knelt on the ground beside her. Gathering the little girl into her arms, she rocked back and forth, gently patting her back.
“Mamma … Mamma … why’d you have to leave us?” the child sobbed. “Don’t you know how much we all need you?”
Tears coursed down Esta’s face, wetting the front of Ruth’s dress and mingling with her own tears. At that moment, Ruth promised herself that she would not only pray for the Wengerd family, but she would also drop
by their place as often as possible and offer to help in any way she could.
As Grace directed her horse and buggy down the road after she and Anna had left Alma’s funeral, she was filled with concern—not only for Abe and his children, but also for Anna, who hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left the burial site. The child was shaken by the death of Esta’s mother, but she’d refused to talk about it. Due to Anna’s melancholy behavior, Grace had decided to get Anna home as quickly as possible, rather than stay for the dinner at Abe’s house.
She glanced over at the child, who sat in the seat beside her with her arms folded and her eyes downcast. If only she knew what was going on in her daughter’s head.
Grace was glad her parents and sisters had stayed for the funeral dinner, for the women’s help was needed serving the meal. Dad and Abe had done a lot of business with each other, as well as sending customers one another’s way, so she knew Dad would want to hang around and offer encouragement to Abe. Grace had noticed that Ruth had taken Esta Wengerd under her wing, and that she’d even been the one to walk the crying child to Abe’s buggy after the graveside service.
Ruth would make a good mother someday, and Grace hoped her sister would find a nice Amish man to marry when the time was right. Maybe it would be Martin Gingerich. He’d certainly shown an interest in Ruth. Martin was rather quiet and shy—nothing like Luke Freisen—but he seemed like a kind man, and from what Abe had told Dad a few weeks ago, Martin was a hard worker.
Grace’s thoughts went to Cleon as she placed one hand against her stomach. He’ll be sorry when he hears of Alma’s passing. Sorry for Abe and sorry he wasn’t here for the funeral. She swallowed against the burning lump clogging her throat. Would Cleon mourn if something were to happen to me, or would he be relieved to have me out of his life?
She shook her head. She shouldn’t allow herself to think this way. It wasn’t good for her to focus on the negative. It wasn’t good for the baby she carried to have its mother feeling so distraught.
As they came down a slight incline, the buggy horse whinnied, halted, and pawed at the ground.
“What’s the matter with you, Ben?” Grace snapped the reins, but the horse refused to move, shaking his head from side to side. His behavior made no sense. Cars weren’t whizzing past, and from what she could see, nothing in the road signaled danger.
She snapped the reins again and reached for the buggy whip. “Giddy-up there, Ben. Move along now, schnell!”
The horse finally moved forward, but he acted skittish, and Grace had to keep prompting him with the buggy whip. Finally, they reached the driveway leading to her folks’ home, and when she turned Ben to the right, he tried to rear up. She pulled back on the reins. “Whoa, now. Steady, boy.”
The horse finally calmed enough so she could get him moving again, but they’d only made it halfway up the driveway when she smelled smoke. Grace forced the horse to keep moving until her Dad’s shop came into view. Nothing wrong there; it looked the same as it had this morning. Past Mom and Dad’s house they went; it looked fine, and so did the barn. She’d just started up the incline to the second driveway when she saw it—smoke and flames coming from her and Cleon’s house!
At first, Grace wasn’t sure what to do. Should she run for the hose and try to put out the fire on her own, or turn the buggy around and head to the closest English neighbors’ to call the fire department? Trying to put out the fire by herself was ridiculous. However, it would take some time for the fire trucks to get there, and the house could be gone by then. If only Dad or Cleon were here, she could go for help while they fought the fire.
Anna squealed and crawled over the seat just as Grace halted the buggy. She turned to reach for the child, but Anna scooted away, climbed out the back opening, and ran toward the burning building.
Grace opened her door and jumped down, too. “Anna, stop! Don’t go near the house!”
The child kept running, and by the time Grace reached the front porch, Anna had already opened the door and slipped inside.
“Oh, dear Lord, no,” Grace panted as she raced in after the child. “Please don’t let anything happen to my little girl!”
When Cleon’s bus arrived in Dover, Henry Rawlings, one of the English drivers he sometimes used, picked him up. But Henry needed to make a stop in Berlin, and since Cleon was anxious to get home and make things right with Grace, he headed there on foot.
As he trudged along the shoulder of the road, he thought about his trip to Pennsylvania and how well things had gone. Not only were some bees and hives being shipped home, but also he’d purchased a honey extractor, some goat-hide gloves, a bee veil, a smoker, and a hive tool that would be used to pry frames out of the beehives. He’d also found a couple of outlets that wanted to buy his honey. If things went well, by this time next year, he could have a thriving business again.
He’d also bought Grace a package of stationery with bluebirds scattered along the top of each page. It wasn’t much, but at least it would let her know that he hadn’t forgotten her birthday.
About halfway home, Cleon heard a horn honk. He turned and saw John Peterson’s SUV pull onto the shoulder of the road behind him. “Need a lift?” John called through his open window.
“I’d appreciate that.” Cleon pulled the door open on the passenger’s side and climbed in.
“Heard you’d been on a trip to buy some bees,” John said as he pulled onto the road again.
Cleon nodded. “Bees and boxes, both.”
“Did you have any luck?”
“Sure did. Had the bees, boxes, and beekeeping supplies shipped to my folks’ place. They should be there by now, I’m guessing.”
“Is that where you’re headed then—to see your folks’?”
Cleon shook his head. “Figured I should stop by my own house first and let Grace know I’m home.”
John gave the steering wheel a couple of taps. “There’s been some excitement in the area since you’ve been gone.”
“What kind of excitement—good or bad?”
“Afraid it’s not good. We had a pretty rough storm a few days ago, and Alma Wengerd was hit by a bolt of lightning.”
“I’m real sorry to hear that. Was she hurt bad?”
“She’s dead. Her funeral was today, although I didn’t attend. Since I’m not Amish and haven’t been in the community very long, I wasn’t sure I’d be welcomed.” John shook his head. “Your neighbor Ray Larson wasn’t there, either. I saw him at the pharmacy in Berlin not long ago.”
A chill ran up Cleon’s spine, and he shivered. Abe’s wife was dead—struck down in the prime of her life. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if something like that happened to Grace.
“You okay?” John asked, nudging Cleon’s arm. “You look kind of pale.”
Cleon popped a couple of knuckles and reached both hands around to rub the kinks in his neck. “I was thinking about Abe losing his wife like that. Must have been some shock for him.”
John nodded. “I heard he was the one to find her not far from the chicken coop where she’d gone to gather eggs.”
“How terrible. Abe’s got six kids, you know, and it won’t be easy for him to raise them on his own.”
“He’ll probably be looking for another wife soon. That’s what most Amish men do when they lose a mate, isn’t it?”
Cleon shrugged. “Some do; some don’t. All depends on the circumstances.” Would I be looking for another wife if Grace died? Could anyone make me as happy as she does? How would I feel if Grace was taken from me before I had a chance to ask for her forgiveness?
When they turned onto the Hostettlers’ driveway, Cleon noticed a thick cloud of smoke hanging in the air. The acrid smell stung his nostrils, and when they began the climb to his driveway, he realized that his house was on fire. His spine went rigid, and his heart pounded. Dear God, don’t let them be in there. Don’t let it be too late for us, please.
He turned to John. “Can you call the fire department for me?�
�
“Of course.” John fumbled in his shirt pocket and frowned. “Rats! Must have left my cell phone at home. I’ll go there now and make the call.”
Cleon opened the door, jumped out of the vehicle, and raced up the driveway. He spotted Grace’s horse and buggy parked nearby. She must be home. She could even be in the house.
“Grace, where are you?”
Silence except for the crackle of flames shooting into the air.
“Anna! Anna, come back here! No, don’t go upstairs!”
Cleon halted. That was Grace’s voice coming from inside their house. Apparently Anna was there, too. His heart nearly stopped beating. If he lost Grace now, without making things right between them, he didn’t think he could go on living.
Noting that the fire seemed to be coming from the second story, where it shot out the bedroom windows and through the roof, Cleon pulled a quilt from the buggy, wet it in the horses’ watering trough, and threw it over his head. He jumped onto the porch, flung open the door, and raced inside.
Chapter 44
Rather than helping the other women serve the funeral dinner, Ruth decided it would be best to stay with Abe’s children, especially Esta, who had refused to eat anything.
“If you promise to eat a little something,” Ruth coaxed as she sat on a bench beside Esta, “then I’ll ask your daed if you can come over to our place tomorrow so you can see how my sister’s puppies are growing.” She smiled. “I’m sure Anna would enjoy having someone to play with, too.”
Esta stared up at Ruth, her dark eyes looking ever so serious and her long lashes sweeping across her cheeks with each steady blink. “You think Martha might let me have one of them hundlin?”
Ruth knew Martha had given Anna one of Heidi’s puppies, but that pup had died, and Martha was counting on getting paid for the other two she still hoped to sell. She took hold of Esta’s hand. “If they were my hundlin to give, I’d say, jah, but I’m pretty sure Martha’s planning to sell the others.”
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