by Marta Perry
Now she sat on the rug by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves next to the desk. The rows of books made an imposing array, looming over her when she glanced up at them.
There was something alluring in all those books waiting to be read. They should go someplace where they’d be used, but she’d have to have Leo’s instructions before she could sort them.
The bottom shelves by the desk were different. Mr. Strickland had used those to store items he planned to deal with soon: stacks of magazines he hadn’t finished reading, a wire basket filled with Christmas cards and another basket that held appeals from charities. She’d seen him working his way through those, consulting his ledger to find out what he had donated when. He’d been a generous man in his way, quietly supporting a number of good causes. But he’d been careful with his money as well, making sure he wasn’t taken in by repeated requests to an organization that had already received its yearly stipend.
Sarah pushed the charity requests aside. Leo would have to take care of them. Would Mr. Strickland have made provision in his will for the charities he’d supported in his life? If not, some of the local ones would feel the pinch.
Next to the baskets sat a pile of leather-bound books she didn’t recall seeing the last time she’d dusted in here. She lifted one from the stack and wiped it gingerly with her hand. Definitely not here when she’d cleaned, or it wouldn’t have been so dirty.
She opened the book, curious, and found a much younger Richard Strickland staring at her from the page. They weren’t books; they were photo albums.
She bent over, entranced by the black-and-white image of a man she could hardly imagine. Wearing a straw hat at a jaunty angle, a teenaged Richard leaned against a tree. Behind him, she could make out blankets spread on the ground, anchored by picnic baskets. Girls in white dresses and young men in sweater vests and straw hats lounged on the blankets. One girl walked toward Richard, holding a plate in her hands. Her head was tilted back, showing a sweet, heart-shaped face and a mass of dark hair.
Sarah carried the album to the window for a little more light and realized she’d have to turn a lamp on for that. While she’d been engrossed in what she was doing, the sunny day had turned dark.
She glanced to the west. Black clouds massed over the distant hills. Spring, always changeable, had a storm in store for them.
Leaving the album for another time, she hurried to the upstairs hall, automatically putting the doorstop back in place again. She looked down over the railing. The tile floor seemed far away, and Jacob wasn’t at the front door any longer. She went quickly down the stairs, running her hand along the smooth railing, trying not to think of Mr. Strickland grasping at it as he fell.
The hallway was deserted, the house quiet around her except for the creaking of a shutter someplace as the wind started to pick up. They’d have to hurry if they were going to beat the storm home.
“Jacob?” She walked back down the hallway, glancing into the living room and dining room as she passed. Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t have left the house without telling her.
Another creak was followed by what might have been a distant footstep. Her pulse thudded in her throat, and a chill snaked down her spine.
Ach, she was acting ferhoodled, that was for sure. There was nothing in this house to be afraid of. She’d heard all its creaks and moans before. There was nothing different this time.
The sunroom was empty—forlorn, it seemed, without Mr. Strickland’s familiar presence in his favorite chair. The boxes of clothes she’d packed earlier were stacked there, ready for pickup by the Goodwill truck.
She hurried into the kitchen, her worry about Jacob building. Where was he? “Jacob? This is no time for hide-and-seek.”
No answer, but a sound came from behind her. She whirled, and saw that the basement door stood open.
“Jacob?” Foolish, to let her voice quaver that way.
“Ja, I am here.” Footsteps sounded on the wooden cellar steps, and he appeared, looking as dusty as the album had been.
“What have you been doing to get so dirty?” Relief made her voice tart. “Don’t you see there’s a storm coming?”
He smiled, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Can’t see much of anything down there. I was trying to be sure that the windows were secure. There’s so much junk it’s hard to get to them.” He glanced at the kitchen window and his expression sobered. “Rain is coming for sure. We’d best get on the road or we’ll be stuck in town. Where’s your bonnet?”
“Here in the hall.” She’d already gone to grab it, tying it quickly on her head. “What about the new keys?”
“They’re on the table—no, here they are on the counter.” Jacob hurried after her, holding out a ring of shiny keys. “You’d best take charge of them until you can give them to Leo.”
They went out, Jacob heading for the spot under the walnut tree where he’d left the buggy, while she wrestled with the stiff new lock, finally getting it to turn.
By the time she reached Jacob, he was backing the mare between the buggy shafts. Sarah went automatically to the opposite side, grasping the harness when he tossed it over. “Poor Bess,” she murmured. “You had a boring day, ain’t so? Never mind. You’ll soon be home.”
“If she’s not, we’re all going to get a soaking,” Jacob commented. He started around to help Sarah up, but she clambered into the seat on her own.
“Komm, schnell.” She grinned at him. “I am already up.”
Making no comment, he went back around and swung himself easily into the seat. Bess didn’t need any urging to start moving. She had probably sensed the storm coming long before Sarah had noticed it.
Sarah waited until they’d cleared town traffic and were driving on the narrow, two-lane country road before she spoke. “I’m sorry I didn’t see the sky darkening earlier. I should have noticed.”
“What were you doing that had you so occupied?” He glanced at her, his blue eyes reflecting the blue shirt he wore. Funny, that she noticed that. She knew Jacob so well that she usually didn’t even see him.
“Sorting upstairs in the study. I found some old photo albums that Mr. Strickland must have been looking at. You should have seen the picture I found of him as a young man.”
“A ladies’ man, was he?” Jacob’s gaze was fixed on the road ahead as the mare trotted along.
“I’ll bet he was. He looked so pleased with himself, out on a picnic with a group of his friends.” It struck her as sad, suddenly—all those youthful faces, most of them just a memory now.
Jacob clasped her hand for a moment, seeming to read her thoughts. “He was a gut man, and he had a gut life.”
She nodded, comforted. That was all any of them, Amish or Englische, could hope to have said about them.
A fat raindrop landed on her skirt, followed by another. “Here comes the rain.” She pulled her lightweight sweater more snugly around her. Too bad she hadn’t worn a jacket today.
“Like I said, we’ll get soaked.” Jacob reached under the seat to pull out a lap robe. He let Bess trot on by herself while he smoothed it around Sarah’s shoulders. “There. That should keep the worst of it off.” He smiled, his face very close to hers for a moment, and her heart seemed to give an extra beat. Then he was turning away to pick up the lines again. “Step up, Bess.”
The mare, as steady and solid as her master, moved on, hooves clopping on the wet pavement.
Sarah snuggled into the robe, clutching it around her, still
seeming to feel the weight of Jacob’s palms on her shoulders.
“Car coming,” Jacob said briefly, his hands steady on the lines.
A car swished by, too fast, she thought, for the road conditions. Hadn’t the driver seen Jacob’s battery-operated blinkers? Or did he just not care? His passing sent up a spray of water, and she pressed closer to Jacob, feeling his warmth.
“Foolish, driving so swiftly in the rain,” he said. “Keep an eye out behind us and let me know if anyone else is coming up that fast.”
“Ja.” She slid her hand into the crook of his arm to keep her balance, and swiveled her head to watch. She couldn’t see very far, not with the wind blowing the rain in sheets. A shiver ran through her. She should have been watching the weather. Should have suggested they wait out the storm.
Still, they were nearly home now. Another hundred yards and they’d be turning into the lane.
A white vehicle appeared out of the rainy mist behind them, so pale it seemed insubstantial. “Another one,” she warned.
Jacob nodded, steering Bess to the right until the right-side wheels bit into the gravel of the berm. That should give the driver plenty of room to pass.
But the vehicle wasn’t passing. Sarah gasped, hands digging into Jacob’s arm. “He’s coming right at us.” She could hear the fear in he voice.
Jacob muttered something, steering Bess still farther over, practically to the edge of the ditch.
But it wasn’t enough. Sarah barely heard the crash before she was ripped away from Jacob and sent flying from the buggy.
* * *
JACOB LAY FACEDOWN in mud. Shaking his head free, he pushed back with his hands, trying to make his mind work. The buggy, the rain, the blur of white…Sarah!
He scrambled to his feet, slipping and sloshing in the muddy ditch. Where was Sarah? His heart thudded so loudly he could hear it. Where was she? He tried to look around, but his vision was blurring. The rain, driving down now in torrents, made it worse. He couldn’t see her….
“Sarah!” Her name came out as a croak, and he tried again. “Sarah, where are you?” He stumbled out of the ditch, peering around, trying to force his eyes to focus.
The buggy was tilted end up in the ditch, the shafts shattered. Bess stood trembling, tangled in her lines. He had to help the mare, but had to find Sarah first.
“Sarah!” he cried out, his voice breaking.
“Here.” The sound was faint, but he heard it.
He spun, half running, half staggering toward the rear of the buggy.
Sarah was getting up—from the soft ground, thank the gut Lord, not from the macadam. He reached her, grabbed her wrists and pulled her against him. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tightly.
“Sarah.” Danki, Father. “Are you all right? Do you hurt anywhere?”
He felt her shake her head against his chest. She’d lost her bonnet somehow, and her cheek pressed against him.
“You’re certain sure?” He ran his palms up and down her back, needing to know for himself that she was in one piece.
“I’m all right.” Her voice was muffled by his damp shirt. “Just…just shaky. And scared.” She pressed closer to him. “I couldn’t see you. I thought…”
She let the words drift off, but he knew. She’d felt the same thing he did—sheer terror at the thought of losing each other.
A car shrieked to a stop at the side of the road. The sound galvanized Jacob, and he drew back. He looked searchingly into her face. She was mud-streaked, her hair wet and plastered to her head. She was beautiful.
He touched her face, smoothing back a strand of wet hair. “Sarah, I—”
“Are you all right?” The car’s occupant had reached them.
He released Sarah reluctantly and turned, to find Sam Robertson, who ran the local hardware store, staring at them. “I already called the police. Do you need the EMTs, Jacob? Sarah?”
Relieved that it was someone he knew, Jacob shook his head. “We are shaken, that’s all.” He suspected they’d both be sore tomorrow. “Bess… I must get Bess out of the harness.”
Sam nodded. “I’ll put some flares out so no other darn fool comes barreling down on us. Stupid people don’t have sense the good Lord gave a gnat.”
“I’ll help with the horse.” Sarah was already moving toward Bess, not giving Jacob a chance to suggest she sit down instead.
Still, he was glad of her help. Bess was a fine, steady animal, but this would try any horse’s nerves. At least she wasn’t attempting to kick the buggy into more pieces than it already was.
“Easy, Bess, easy.” Sarah held the mare’s head, her voice soothing. “We will have you out of this soon, you’ll see.”
Jacob took a moment to survey the tangle, tracing the lines of the harness and the possible dangers. One of the broken shafts was perilously near the mare’s side; he’d have to get that away first.
It was hard to get a decent grip when his feet kept slipping in the mud and water, but finally he’d wedged the shaft out enough that he could pull on it. “Hold her head steady,” he said, more for the sake of saying something to Sarah than because she needed directions.
“I am,” she said, her voice calm. “She is being as gut as gold, aren’t you, Bess?”
She stroked the mare’s nose, crooning to her, as Jacob eased the broken shaft away from her flank and tossed it to the side.
He could breathe again. Now it was just a matter of getting the harness off her. Already he could hear the hiss of the flares on the road, and he spotted Josiah running down the lane from the house as one of Sarah’s sisters hitched up the wagon. In the distance a police siren wailed, and a shudder went over Bess at the sound.
Jacob nodded to Sarah that the harness was unbuckled, and she led the mare away from the wreckage, letting the animal scramble out of the ditch.
He smiled at Sarah. They were both drenched and aching, and Bess was okay even though his buggy was probably a total loss. But it could have been so much worse.
“Gut job.”
She nodded, smiling back in spite of the rain and mud. “You, too.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER she and Jacob had changed into dry clothes and were warm again, sitting at the table with Sarah’s daad and Chief Byler, mugs of coffee in front of them. Sarah’s mamm bustled about the kitchen, slicing into the dried-apple pie she’d made that morning. Sarah stole a quick glance at Jacob’s face, needing to assure herself that he was all right. She wouldn’t soon forget the panic she’d felt when she feared he’d been injured, maybe killed, out there on the road. Her fingers trembled, and she pressed them around the mug, absorbing the warmth.
“Sam Robertson wasn’t able to get a license number, unfortunately,” Chief Byler said. “He was too far away and the conditions were too bad. He said the vehicle had passed him a couple of miles back, but of course there was no reason then for him to notice. Did you see anything?”
He seemed to address the question to both of them, glancing from her to Jacob.
Sarah shook her head. “I looked back and saw the lights, so I warned Jacob.” She frowned a little, teasing the memory out. “Something about the lights… It wasn’t a car, I don’t think.”
“A van,” Jacob said. “A white van. That’s all I saw. Just a flash.”
Just a flash, because he’d been too busy trying to save them.
“When I told Jacob, he got the buggy over as far as he could. The driver had ple
nty of room to pass.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Chief Byler said. “Reckless driving, leaving the scene of an accident, driving too fast for conditions… He’s piled up a list of charges to answer for, assuming we can find him.”
Josiah Weaver cleared his throat. “It is kind of you, Chief Byler,” he said. “But we will not press charges.”
That was the Amish way. Forgiveness. Sarah discovered she didn’t feel much forgiveness toward the driver. She would have to work on that.
“You won’t need to,” Chief Byler said, and there was satisfaction in his voice. He’d dealt with the Amish often enough to know their beliefs. “This isn’t a matter of vandalism against private property. Hit-and-run is a criminal act and doesn’t depend upon your pressing charges. Jacob and Sarah will just have to say what they saw if it comes to a trial.”
Sarah could almost sense her daad’s struggle. He didn’t want to be involved with the law, but he would never knowingly disobey it, either. Finally, he nodded.
Chief Byler turned back to them, his strong face serious, eyes intent. “You understand, I hope. If not for Jacob’s good driving, someone could have been killed today. We can’t let that person go free to hit someone else, who might not be so lucky.”
Jacob nodded. “I wish I could help, but I was too busy trying to control the horse to see more.”
“It happened so fast,” Sarah added. “Just a blur of white, and then I was flying through the air.”
Mamm made a small sound and touched her daughter’s shoulder. Sarah looked up at her, managing a smile.
“Well, I’m just glad you two are all right.” Chief Byler rose. “If you think of anything else, no matter how small—” He stopped when his cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” He turned away, putting the tiny phone to his ear, his answers too low to be intelligible.
