I’ll never find out who’s been doing these things to us if I don’t find some clues, she fumed. But I’d better not go outside and look for them now.
Martha stepped back into the house and closed the door. She would look for some clues first thing in the morning. In the meantime, she needed to check on Mom and give her some tea.
“Where’s your mamm? I figured she’d be here making breakfast,” Dad said when he stepped into the kitchen after finishing his chores the following morning.
Martha turned from the stove, where she’d been frying bacon. “Mom’s still in bed.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s not like her to sleep so late.”
“I’m not sure she’s sleeping, Dad. I think she may still be upset over what happened last night with the brick.”
“I can understand her being upset last night,” Dad said as he washed his hands at the sink. “But I boarded up the window, cleaned up the glass, and promised to notify the sheriff, so there’s no reason for her to be lying in bed feeling naerfich.”
Martha pursed her lips. “I think Mom has every right to feel nervous. These attacks have been going on too long, and it’s enough to put anyone’s nerves on edge.”
“Which is why I agreed to notify the sheriff.”
“When do you plan to call him?”
“Sometime today, but not until I’ve had some breakfast and have checked on your mamm.”
Martha set a plate of toast on the table just as Dad took a seat. “Don’t you think you ought to call the doctor and see about getting Mom in as soon as possible?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I think she just needs a good rest. She’s been working awfully hard around here lately, you know.”
Martha released an exasperated sigh. “Mom’s not in bed because she’s tired and needs a good rest. She’s—”
He held up one hand to silence her. “If she’s not feeling better by noon, I’ll take her to the clinic in town. In the meantime, I’m going up to Grace and Cleon’s place to tell them what happened last night.”
“Dad, what’s wrong? You look like you didn’t sleep a wink last night,” Grace said when her father entered the kitchen as she was getting breakfast on the table.
He moaned and sank into a chair. “There was another attack during the night.”
“Ach, no!” Grace gasped, and Cleon reached out to grab her hand.
“What happened?” Cleon asked.
“Someone threw a brick through our bedroom window.”
“Were either of you hurt?”
Dad looked up at Grace and shook his head. “Not physically, anyway.”
“What do you mean, Dad?”
He tugged his ear. “It’s your mamm. She’s not acting like herself at all.”
“What’s wrong with Mom? How’s she acting?”
“Like she’s in some kind of daze. Won’t say a word to anyone and doesn’t seem to know where she is.”
Grace covered her mouth with the palm of her hand. “I knew it. I knew this was coming.”
Dad looked up at her and tipped his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mom’s been on edge ever since the attacks first began, but with each one that’s happened, she’s gotten worse.” Grace slowly shook her head. “I’m afraid the brick being thrown through your window might have pushed her over the edge.”
“I don’t think so.” Dad’s eyelids blinked in rapid succession. “I’m sure she’ll snap out of it soon and be back to her old self.”
“Mom hasn’t been her old self for a long time, Dad.” Grace moved over to the row of wall pegs by the back door and grabbed a sweater.
“Where are you going?” Cleon asked.
“To see Mom, of course. Can you take care of things here while I’m gone?”
Cleon looked over at Dad. “What about work? Are you planning to open the shop today?”
Dad shook his head. “No, no. I think I’d better spend the day with Judith.” He rose from his chair. “I’ll walk back to the house with Grace now, and we’ll let you know later how things are going.”
Anna spoke up for the first time. “What about Poppy? Don’t I get to see him today?”
“Not today, Anna,” Cleon said. “Your grandma Hostettler is sick, and your mamm has to look after her.”
Grace didn’t wait to hear Anna’s response. She rushed out the door with Dad behind her. Oh, dear Lord, she silently prayed, please help my mamm.
As Martha headed outside after the breakfast dishes were done, all she could think about was her mother lying in her room, refusing to get out of bed. Mom hadn’t eaten anything from the breakfast tray Martha had prepared for her, nor had she spoken a word to either Martha or Dad. Martha worried that Mom might be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“I hope Dad decides to take Mom to the doctor,” Martha muttered as she zigzagged across the yard, searching for clues that might give some indication as to who had thrown the brick into her parents’ room the night before. It wasn’t fair, this nightmare they’d been living since the first act of vandalism that had taken place over two years ago. Martha was sure if it had been some kids playing pranks it would have ended long before now. No, someone was definitely trying to get even with someone in her family. The questions remained: who and why?
As Martha made her way along the edge of the flower bed near the house, she spotted an empty beer bottle lying in the grass. Whoever threw that brick must have been drinking and dropped the beer bottle.
She was about to head into the house when something shiny sticking out of the dirt caught her eye. She bent to investigate and discovered a ballpoint pen. She didn’t recognize it as belonging to anyone in her family, but she thought she might have seen it, or at least one like it, somewhere before.
Clutching the pen tightly in her hand, she hurried back to the house to check on Mom. She’d just entered the kitchen and had slipped the pen in a drawer, when Dad showed up with Grace.
“Where’s Mom?” Grace asked with a panicked expression.
“She’s in her room, resting,” Martha replied.
Grace moved in that direction, but Martha stepped between her and the hallway door. “Why don’t we let Dad check on Mom first? That will give the two of us a chance to talk.”
Grace looked like she might argue, but she finally nodded and took a seat at the table.
Dad hurried down the hall toward his bedroom.
Martha took a seat beside Grace. “I think Mom needs to see the doctor. She’s not doing well at all.”
Grace’s head moved slowly up and down. “Dad said she won’t speak to anyone and acts like she doesn’t know where she is.”
“That’s right. She’s been like that since the brick was thrown through the window during the night.”
“Is Dad going to phone the doctor?”
Martha shrugged. “He said that if Mom wasn’t feeling better by noon, he would.”
“If she’s as bad as you say, then I don’t think we should wait that long, do you?”
“Probably not.”
Grace pushed her chair away from the table and stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Into Mom’s room to see for myself how she’s doing.” Deep wrinkles formed in Grace’s forehead. “If I think she needs to see the doctor, I’m going to insist that Dad make the phone call right now.”
Luke glanced at the clock on the far wall of John’s shop. It was after eight and still no John. Luke didn’t remember John saying the night before that he planned to run any errands this morning, but maybe something had come up at the last minute and John had decided to run into town.
“He should have called to let me know he was going to be late,” Luke mumbled as he glanced at the phone sitting on John’s desk. It had only rung once this morning, and that call had been a wrong number. “Guess I’d better get busy and find something to do, because when the boss does get here, I’m sure he won’t be too happy if he sees me standing aro
und.”
For the next hour, Luke stayed busy staining a set of cabinets that were supposed to be finished by the end of the week. When those were done, he put the can of stain away and started sanding an antique rocking chair that had been brought into the shop the day before for restoration.
At nine thirty, the shop door opened, and John stepped into the room. “I overslept. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Figured you might call me,” Luke replied.
John’s forehead wrinkled. “How could I call if I was sleeping?” He tromped across the room and dropped into the chair at his desk with a groan. “The battery in my stupid alarm clock must have gone dead, because it never rang this morning.”
“I would have called if I’d known you’d just overslept, but I thought maybe you had run some errands in town.”
“No errands today.” John glanced across the room, where the coffeepot sat on a table. “Is there any coffee made?”
Luke nodded. “Made some first thing this morning.”
“Good. A steaming cup of hot coffee is just what I need.” John left his desk and ambled across the room, stretching his hands over his head and releasing a yawn. “I never feel right when I oversleep. It’ll probably take my brain the rest of the day to thaw out so I can get some work done.”
Luke gestured to the cabinets he’d just stained. “As you can see, I’ve got those ready to go.” He pointed to the rocking chair. “I also started on that.”
“Glad to hear it,” John said as he poured himself a cup of coffee and added three teaspoons of sugar. Luke had never figured out why John liked his coffee so sweet. He preferred his black.
“Have you heard anything from your folks lately?” John asked when he returned to his desk.
“I saw Mom from a distance in town the other day but didn’t get a chance to speak to her.”
“Do you think your folks are still mad at you?”
“I’m not sure.” Luke scrubbed his hand across his chin. “I think they’re more disappointed than anything.”
“Because you haven’t joined the Amish church?”
Luke nodded. “By the time Dad was my age, he was already married, and Mom was expecting her first baby.”
John took a swig of coffee. “How much longer do you plan to sleep in my back room?”
“Do you need me to find another place to stay? Because if you do—”
John lifted his hand. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t think it’s an ideal living arrangement.”
“I hope to have some answers soon. Then maybe I can make a decision that will give my parents some peace.”
“What kind of answers are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain things when I can.” Luke motioned to the rocking chair. “In the meantime, I’d better get back to work on that.”
John set his coffee cup down. “I’d better try to get something done myself.”
Martha paced the kitchen floor and kept glancing at the clock on the far wall as she waited for Dad and Grace to come out of Mom’s room. By noon, Mom still hadn’t responded to anything Dad or Grace had said to her, and at Grace’s insistence, Dad had phoned the doctor and gotten Mom an appointment for this afternoon. Then he’d called Rosemary and asked if she would give them a ride to the doctor in Millersburg. Grace and Dad had gone into Mom’s room forty-five minutes ago to help Mom get dressed.
What could be taking so long? she fretted. Surely it couldn’t take Mom this long to get dressed.
Martha had known for some time that her mother was upset over the attacks that had been done to them. After the last several acts of vandalism, Mom had acted jittery for days. But she’d never freaked out like she had last night or gone into her own world, refusing to talk to anyone.
Martha sank into a chair at the table and let her head fall forward into her open palms. She feared the worst where her mother was concerned. Mom rarely got sick, and whenever she did, she usually bounced right back. What if Mom didn’t bounce back this time? What if. . .
Martha jumped when she heard her parents’ bedroom door open. She raced into the hallway and was pleased to see Mom standing there, fully dressed. Grace and Dad stood on either side of her with their arms around Mom’s waist.
“How are you feeling?” Martha asked, rushing to her mother’s side.
Mom blinked a couple of times and gave Martha a blank stare.
“She’ll be better once she sees the doctor,” Dad said with a nod.
“Would you like some lunch before you go?”
“I’ve already eaten,” he replied.
“No, I meant Mom.”
“She might feel better if she had something to eat,” Grace said. “Would you like some tea and a boiled egg before you go, Mom?”
“I. . .don’t care for any.”
Hope welled in Martha’s soul when Mom replied to Grace’s question. If Mom was speaking again, maybe she would be all right and wouldn’t need to see the doctor after all. She was about to voice that thought when a horn honked from outside.
“That must be Rosemary,” Dad said. “We’re supposed to be at the doctor’s in half an hour, and if we don’t go now, we’ll be late. We can get something to eat on the way home.” He ushered Mom quickly out the door, calling over his shoulder, “If you’re coming with us, Martha, you’d better get a move on.”
“She’s going to be all right,” Grace whispered as Martha headed out the door. “She has to be all right.”
As Ruth washed the breakfast dishes while Esta dried, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Molly sitting on the floor, playing with one of her dolls.
“Can I go over to Anna’s when we’re done with the dishes?” Esta asked. “I want to take Winkie along and show her the new tricks I’ve been teaching him.”
Ruth nodded. “I suppose it would be all right. But only if Gideon goes with you.”
Esta wrinkled her nose. “How come he has to go along?”
“Because you’ll need someone to drive the pony cart.”
“I can drive it. Cinnamon’s a tame pony and does just what I say.”
“That may be, but I won’t have you out on the road by yourself in the pony cart.” Ruth added a few more squirts of detergent to her sink full of dishes. “Either Gideon goes along, or you’ll have to stay home.”
Esta’s lower lip jutted out. “Gideon’s always so cranky. Can’t Josh go instead?”
The back door flew open, and Josh tore into the room. His face was red and his breathing labored. “You’d better come quick, Mama. Gideon fell on a broken beer bottle out by the barn, and he’s bleedin’ real bad!”
A broken beer bottle? Ruth had no idea how a beer bottle would have gotten there; no one in their family drank anything with alcohol in it. She supposed it could have belonged to one of the men who came to Abe’s harness shop, but what would they have been doing up by the barn?
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Ruth opened a drawer and grabbed a clean dish towel. “Esta, stay with Molly while I check on Gideon,” she instructed as she rushed out the back door.
Ruth found Gideon lying on the ground not far from the barn, moaning and clutching his leg. Nearby lay the shattered remains of a beer bottle.
“Gideon, let me have a look at your leg,” she instructed.
The boy groaned and pulled his bloody fingers away from the spot he’d been holding. Ruth bent for a closer look, and her stomach clenched when she saw how deep the cut was.
“You need to go to the hospital for stitches,” she said, wrapping the towel securely around Gideon’s leg.
“Can’t you just slap a bandage on it?”
She shook her head. “The cut’s too deep and wide for that. Besides, we can’t take the risk of infection setting in.”
“But Papa’s gone shopping in Berlin today,” Gideon said. “So how am I gonna get to the hospital?”
“I’ll call for a ride and take you there myself.”
Gideon looked like he might protest,
but to Ruth’s surprise, he nodded and said, “Jah, okay.”
After Rosemary dropped Judith, Roman, and Martha off at the doctor’s, she decided it was time to pay the sheriff another visit. He needed to know about this latest attack, and he needed to find a way to make the attacks stop. She hoped he was in his office today and not out patrolling.
When Rosemary entered the sheriff’s office a short time later, she was relieved to find the sheriff there.
“What can I help you with?” he asked, as she took a seat on the other side of his desk.
“There’s been another attack at my brother’s house.”
He lifted both arms and laced his fingers together as he placed his hands behind his head. “What’s happened now?
“Someone threw a brick through Roman and Judith’s bedroom window last night.”
“I see.”
Irritation welled in Rosemary’s chest. Didn’t the man even care? Wasn’t he concerned that someone may have gotten hurt?
“My brother and his wife are over at the doctor’s right now,” she said through tight lips.
“Was one of them hit by the brick?”
She shook her head. “But they could have been.”
He dropped his arms and placed both hands on his desk. “If they weren’t hurt, then why the trip to the doctor’s?”
“Judith’s been a nervous wreck since the last several attacks, and this one. . .well, it sort of put her over the edge.”
He leaned slightly forward. “Did she suffer a nervous breakdown? Is that what you’re saying?”
“We’re not sure, but she wouldn’t talk to anyone for a while, and—”
“I’m sorry to hear about the broken window and Mrs. Hostettler’s shattered nerves, but unless I’m given some evidence to go on, there’s really not much I can do.”
Rosemary released an exasperated sigh. “It’s my impression that you promised my brother you’d keep a closer eye on his place.”
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