Breath of Spring

by Hubbard, Charlotte

  Her blue eyes widened. “And how’d that go?”

  Adam felt another wave of welcome relief flowing over him. “It’s all gut now. I’m squared away, far as confessing goes. And Officer McClatchey knows a fellow who might buy my bike.”

  Annie Mae’s tremulous smile did funny things to Adam’s insides. “Seems to me the Lord’s been busy makin’ a lot of things right this afternoon, even after some things went wrong in Higher Ground,” she remarked.

  Bishop Tom nodded in agreement. “Ready to go home now, Annie Mae? The cows’ll be wonderin’ where I am.”

  “Jah. Jerusalem and Nazareth’ll be makin’ supper and I should be helpin’ with that. It’ll keep me busy. Focused.” She smiled at Adam, almost shyly. “Denki again for comin’ after me today. You’re a lifesaver, ya know it?”

  A lifesaver. Now didn’t that put a different twist on his opinion of himself for these last several years? As Adam watched the bishop escort Annie Mae to his rig, he couldn’t help smiling. His heart felt ten sizes bigger, filled with hope—even as he realized she wasn’t going to be over her father’s abuse anytime soon.

  But it seemed worth his while to wait . . . to work on forgiving himself while he encouraged Annie Mae to move forward, as well.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “It might be best if we talk to the kids about your hair tonight,” Bishop Tom said as the rig rolled down the road toward his farm. “While ya look real gut, all things considered, they’re gonna ask about why you’re tyin’ your kapp strings. It’s better to tell them straight-out while I’m around, rather than you gettin’ caught short by their curious questions, ain’t so?”

  Annie Mae sighed. She had so hoped to give this matter a rest for a while. “All right. I suppose that might be best,” she murmured. “Josh and Joey aren’t ones to miss my kapp fittin’ different than it used to, now that ya mention it.”

  “They’ve been helpin’ me fetch the cows’ water and feed, so I’ll steer them out to the barn first thing,” he agreed. “That’ll give ya time to answer Jerusalem and Naz’s questions, too. Those two were fit to be tied when they heard the squeal of Yonnie’s tires and saw him takin’ out down the road with ya.”

  Annie Mae felt like a target that everybody in Willow Ridge would be aiming at over the next few days . . . but at least they would all rally behind her, too. Wasn’t that why she’d insisted on joining the church, after all?

  The bishop’s rig wasn’t but halfway to the barn before the back door of his house flew open. Nellie and the kids raced outside, clamoring her name, while Jerusalem and Nazareth hurried toward her at a more sedate pace. Their concern for her had etched their wrinkles deeper this afternoon, it seemed, and as the kids threw open the buggy door, their little voices told the tale.

  “Annie Mae! Annie Mae!” little Timmy and Sara cried as they clambered into her lap.

  “Did ya go to Dat’s house?” Joey asked as he stepped up beside her.

  “Was that nasty Delilah there?” his twin demanded as he stood on her other side.

  Nellie hung back a few feet, her eyes riveted to the bow beneath Annie Mae’s chin. “We um, prayed real long and hard for ya,” she murmured.

  “Oh, but it’s gut to see your sweet face!” Nazareth gushed, while Jerusalem studied her closely. “We surely did wonder what might be happenin’—”

  While everyone was talking at once, Bishop Tom came around to the passenger side of the buggy and held up his hand for silence. “Your sister’s had a rough afternoon, kids,” he began. “But thanks to Adam and the sheriff—and that nice Officer McClatchey who came when you twins had your sleigh wreck—and thanks to your prayers,” he added with a smile for Nellie and the two older women, “Annie Mae came through her time of trial. But your dat and Delilah cut off her hair, so we need to be extra nice to—”

  “He what?” Nazareth and Jerusalem chorused. Nellie’s hand flew to her mouth. The boys and little Sara got very quiet. Their faces grew somber.

  Annie Mae closed her eyes to keep from crying again. But wasn’t it better that everyone heard this story at once, so they could work it through their systems—and so she, too, could move beyond today’s traumatic events?

  “Lemme see!” Timmy blurted as he grabbed for her kapp strings.

  “Timmy, you leave your sister’s kapp alone!” Nazareth said as she rushed forward to grab him. “Boys are not to meddle with girls’ prayer coverings—”

  “It’s all right,” Annie Mae murmured as she closed her hands around her little brother’s inquisitive fingers. “Let me out of the rig, so this’ll be easier.”

  Nellie steered the twins backward while Nazareth took Sara and Bishop Tom hoisted Timmy to his shoulder. Annie Mae stepped to the ground, turned her back to everyone, and then slowly removed her kapp. “Rebecca showed me how to pin my hair,” she explained in the strongest voice she could muster. “And—and she found a place to donate my braid, so a kid with cancer can have a wig made from it, so I—”

  Nazareth clutched her shoulder. “My stars, I never dreamed I’d see the day when your dat got so out of hand that he—”

  “Do ya want to say what-all happened?” Jerusalem asked quietly. “Or would ya rather let sleepin’ dogs lie?”

  Everyone behind her got quiet—gawking at the pin curls clinging to her head, no doubt. Annie Mae couldn’t help but notice how subdued Jerusalem sounded . . . and as she heard Nellie quietly crying, it seemed best to reveal all the details. Much as she hated to consider it, her dat might make these women his next victims because they were taking care of her. They should know exactly how low Hiram Knepp would stoop . . . how reprehensible he had become.

  Annie Mae gazed into Bishop Tom’s eyes for strength. “Yonnie knew all along how Dat intended to . . . humiliate me,” she recounted. “Soon as he shoved me into the kitchen, Dat started in with his list of ways I’d sinned against him. I started hollerin’ when Dat said he’d take me down a peg or two by cuttin’ off my hair—broke away from Yonnie and then grabbed a saltshaker and threw it at him, hopin’ to run off—but he ducked. So it crashed through the window. And he grabbed me again.”

  Annie Mae took a deep breath to still her racing heartbeat. While that window glass had broken, just as her heart and soul had shattered at that terrifying moment . . . she had endured and survived. She had been spared. And she now stood among the folks she loved best, safe again. This realization gave her the strength to go on.

  “While Yonnie held my arms down, Dat snatched off my kapp so Delilah could unpin my braid. I . . . I fought them as best I could—”

  “Ya didn’t stand a chance with all those heathens workin’ against ya,” Jerusalem muttered.

  “—but Dat flipped open a straight razor—”

  Nellie’s whimper made Annie Mae wonder if she should stop, but Tom nodded his encouragement. “When did Adam come in? And the police?” he asked gently. “You’re doin’ fine, Annie Mae. We’re all in this with ya.”

  She recalled the fierce outrage on Adam’s face when he’d burst through the door. “Adam, bless his soul, came rushin’ in with the sheriff and Officer McClatchey behind him, or . . . well, we can’t worry about what might’ve happened if you folks hadn’t called them—and if ya hadn’t been prayin’ so hard for me,” Annie Mae added quickly. “When Delilah held up my braid, Dat whacked it off before the police or Adam could stop him. It was Adam who saved my braid, though . . . and who got me out of there and took me to Ben and Miriam’s.”

  She left out the motorcycle, as that was Adam’s story to tell. And she didn’t want to repeat the part where Dat had disowned her and said she was no longer a child of God, either. Not in front of Nellie and the kids.

  Tom squeezed her shoulder. “While I’m supposed to say God’s will is bein’ carried out, and that we’re to forgive your dat for what he’s done,” the bishop addressed them quietly, “I’ve never seen the likes of such dangerous hatred. The best we can do is pray on it now, askin’ God to keep us al
l safe and to shine His light on our darkness—and to shine on Hiram’s darkness, as well.” Tom bowed his head, leading the rest of them.

  After a few moments, with only the breeze riffling the trees and the shuffling of the cows in the milking barn to break their silence, everyone opened their eyes. Annie Mae tied her kapp on again and turned to face the others. “It’s gut to be here—”

  “I don’t never want to go to Dat’s house again!” Joey blurted as he grabbed her around the waist.

  “Didn’t I tell ya how mean Delilah was?” Josh bleated as he clutched Annie Mae from the other side.

  Their remarks cut her deeply. Five-year-olds shouldn’t say such things about their father or the . . . young woman he had chosen to be their keeper. But it was a reminder to Annie Mae that she wasn’t the only Knepp child who had suffered. Didn’t Sara and Timmy still have faded scars from the switchings Delilah had given them? Didn’t Nellie still cry herself to sleep now and again?

  “We six kids have each other,” Annie Mae murmured as she hugged the boys close. “And we’re blessed to be livin’ with Naz and Jerusalem and Bishop Tom, here in Willow Ridge where folks consider us family. So don’t you worry about a thing, because God’s brought us this far and He’s not gonna leave us in the lurch. Do ya believe that?”

  As each of her siblings met her gaze and nodded solemnly, Annie Mae drank in their earnest expressions . . . their dear, sweet innocence . . . their love and trust. And because she knew how they depended upon her to be strong, she would find a way to protect them. To nurture them. To set aside her own anguish and put these kids first in her life.

  There was simply no other way for her to go on.

  Saturday morning, Adam stood in Ben Hooley’s barn trying not to grin like an idiot. Trent Searcy, the English fellow Officer McClatchey had mentioned, kept circling the motorcycle, saying what fabulous condition it was in as he ran his fingers over the leather and chrome and studded saddlebags. “This Indian Chief dates back to the early forties!” he exclaimed as he shook his head incredulously. “Do you have any idea what this bike’s worth?”

  Adam knew a loaded question when he heard one, from a man who probably assumed Amish folks were clueless about real-world matters. Searcy was dressed in jeans and a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, with a silver-spangled beard and shoulder-length ponytail. “Jah, I do,” he replied. “I could sell it on eBay for about thirty thousand. Since all the money’s going as a charitable donation, though, I’m hoping for more than that.”

  When Searcy stopped circling to look at him straight-on, Adam wondered if he’d inflated the price too much, trying to help Annie Mae. He hadn’t told anything but the truth, however: thanks to Rebecca’s research, he had stated a fair market value—his bottom line—and had left this fellow some wiggle room. He really, really didn’t want to bother Rebecca with an eBay transaction, but—

  “What sort of a charity are we talking about?”

  Again Adam hoped not to overstate his case. “We’ve got a young, single girl in town who’s been left to raise her five brothers and sisters,” he explained. “The bike’s been sitting under a tarp in my barn, not doing me one bit of gut, but this sort of cash will help keep her family fed and together. She’s not one to accept handouts, but working full-time at the Sweet Seasons across the road won’t pay their bills, either. Especially if any of them gets sick.”

  “Ate an awesome breakfast over there this morning,” Searcy remarked as he rubbed his stomach. “Randy McClatchey told me not to miss it.”

  “Chances are this gal was your waitress. But I want to keep this between you and me, and keep her name out of it, understand,” Adam insisted. “If she knew what I was doing, she’d refuse my help. She’s stubborn that way.”

  Searcy’s laughter made Ben’s horses look up from the hay they were munching. “I like her already! Will you take a check? Or shall I go to the bank in New Haven and get you the cash?”

  Somehow Adam kept from whooping and jumping up and down, even though no amount had been mentioned. Trent Searcy had the air of being well-off, but a check for thirty thousand dollars—thirty thousand dollars!—could bounce mighty high if it wasn’t any good. He wanted to be cautious without seeming not to trust this English guy. “I have my accounts there, too, so why don’t we both go?” Adam reasoned aloud. “It’ll save me the trip to make the deposit. And if I put the money directly into her account, she can’t argue with me, can she?”

  Trent extended his hand. “I like the way you operate, Adam. Let’s go to the bank, and then swing by home for my trailer.”

  During the short ride, Adam answered Trent’s questions about Willow Ridge and his remodeling business. When they got to the bank, he remained in the lobby while Trent handled the transaction with the teller. She was a lady he often made his remodeling deposits with, and after a few moments she called him over to the window. “Is this money being deposited into your business account, Adam?” she asked. “We can transfer it electronically, if you’d like.”

  “Not my account, no. I don’t have a number with me, but . . .” Adam paused. He hadn’t mentioned Annie Mae’s name previously, thinking to protect her privacy if Officer McClatchey had told his friend about Hiram Knepp’s misdeeds. But then . . . if Trent’s check was good, surely his intentions were, too. “Move it into Annie Mae Knepp’s account.”

  “Certainly. What a sweet, hardworking girl,” she remarked as she tapped on her keyboard. Then she slid a form across the counter. “If you’ll sign here, beneath Mr. Searcy’s signature, we’ll be all set. I’ll have your deposit slip momentarily.”

  Adam picked up a pen on the counter. He skimmed the document, saw the amount—and then stared at Trent. “That . . . that’s very generous of you, sir,” he rasped. “Thanks a lot.”

  Searcy winked. “That addition to your donation helps me justify my vintage motorcycle hobby,” he said. “I admire the way you Amish watch out for each other. And if you’ve got any business cards, Adam, I’d like to throw some work your way when the opportunities arise. Family-owned businesses are the backbone of this region, and it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep them profitable.”

  Adam couldn’t argue with that. And when all was said and done, and Trent Searcy was rolling down the county blacktop with the black motorcycle on the trailer behind his Navigator, Adam couldn’t dispute the deposit slip in his hand, either.

  Thirty-five thousand dollars!

  It would be a challenge not to share this news with Rebecca or Ben or Miriam or Bishop Tom—but Adam didn’t want to take the slightest chance that Annie Mae would hear about his deposit secondhand. And now that the deed was done, the biggest challenge was getting her to accept his gift in the spirit with which he’d given it.

  He needed to find the perfect time and place to tell her....

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  At the end of the church service, Ben watched their deacon, Reuben Riehl, stand to give some announcements. On this springtime Sunday, with the windows open and a gentle cross breeze keeping the crowd comfortable, he was again pleased to be hosting church in the home he’d built for Miriam . . . happy about how the placement of the windows and the house’s position on a ridge provided welcome circulation of fresh air in their home as the weather got warmer.

  “It’s my pleasure to announce the upcoming wedding of Bishop Vernon Gingerich to Jerusalem Hooley,” Reuben said in a voice that carried over the large crowd. “They’ve set Thursday, April seventeenth, as their date.”

  Ben elbowed Vernon, who sat beside him with a boyish grin on his face. “Marryin’ on her birthday, eh?” he whispered.

  “I’ll never forget our anniversary that way,” the white-bearded bishop admitted as they rose for Bishop Tom’s benediction. “Two celebrations, two gifts—and a day I’ve vowed to devote to my wife each year when it rolls around. Life’s meant to be celebrated.”

  After Tom had pronounced his final words of the church service, he called for a brief Members’ Meeting.
“While this isn’t something that requires a vote, I feel it’s a matter all of us need to be aware of,” he said. His serious tone immediately had folks focusing more intently on him.

  Tom glanced toward the women’s side. “There’s no easy way to say this and spare Annie Mae’s feelings,” he began, “but she’s agreed to let me tell ya that Yonnie Stoltzfus abducted her last Thursday. And when he took her to Higher Ground, Hiram . . . her father cut off her hair.”

  The women sucked in their breath and turned to gaze at Annie Mae, seated in their midst. The men sat taller, outrage evident on their faces.

  “She’s handlin’ it real well,” Tom went on, “but this incident should make us all more aware of the trouble that might come to her and Nellie and the kids—or to any of us here in Willow Ridge. I’m askin’ ya to be more vigilant,” he continued in a more insistent voice. “We called the local law officers, but that didn’t keep this sacrilege from happenin’—and it only made Hiram that much madder. Your prayers and consideration’ll be greatly appreciated. Enough said. Let’s enjoy our common meal.”

  Everyone rose then, and chatter about Hiram’s latest affront filled the large room. As the women clustered around Annie Mae, Nellie, and little Sara, their expressions bespoke their dismay—and their support. Ben strolled toward Adam Wagler, who’d spent the morning with Joey and Josh Knepp on either side of him, while Timmy had been perched in his lap. “And how’re you fellas on this fine day?” Ben asked the boys.

  “We’re gut,” came the unanimous, if subdued, reply.

  “Ready for dinner and some runnin’ around outside, most likely,” Ben remarked as he winked at Adam.

  “I wanna play now,” Timmy crowed as Adam set him on the floor.

  “Take some of the bigger boys, then,” Ben advised. “Maybe Levi and Cyrus Zook—”

  “And Brett!” one of the twins piped up. Gazing between the men who were setting up tables, he beckoned eagerly to Andy Leitner’s boy.