“Now, Isaac . . . if you’ll recall, we were married by the time we were Anna’s age. She’s eighteen years old, and she’s not even participated in much of a rumschpringe, so you need to give the girl some freedoms.” Or she’ll end up like me—hiding things in the basement.
Isaac ran his hand the length of his beard again, then stood and walked to the window. He raised the green shade and peered outside. “So much danger out there.”
“But we must trust the Lord to keep Anna safe. That’s all we can do.” Marianne walked to the window and wrapped her arms around Isaac’s waist. She knew what he was thinking. The way He kept Elam and Suzy safe.
It had taken Marianne years to get past the deaths of their beloved son and daughter-in-law. She wasn’t sure that you ever really recover from something like that. But she’d made her peace with it. And with God. Marianne wasn’t sure that Isaac had ever done that. Not really. He ruled with an iron fist, an enforcer of the rules, but with a heart so fragile that if anyone could see inside of him, they’d know the fear that drove him. That was why he reacted so harshly today. He was afraid something would happen to Anna. But their granddaughter wasn’t baptized yet, and Marianne didn’t want Isaac pushing her to a life in the outside world.
Isaac turned to face her. “I still do not want her seeing that boy. He looks like a fancy fellow anyway. He is not right for her.”
Marianne chuckled. Briefly. “Ach, Isaac, the boy is very handsome. I can see why Anna wants to get to know him.”
“Nee. She will not see him.”
Isaac walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Marianne just shook her head.
It was ten o’clock Sunday evening when Cora’s husband strolled into the bedroom like he hadn’t a care in the world, and it didn’t take her long to recognize the smell of alcohol on his breath. Jake Troyer made the wine in his basement even though the bishop had forbidden it. And it hadn’t taken John long to learn about it once they moved here.
Cora’s chest tightened as she recalled the events of the day. There was the situation with Eli. Plus she’d forgotten about bread in the oven and burned two loaves, then later had to run interference between Mary Jane and Anna Mae when they got into a silly squabble over who would clean the bathtubs. She was exhausted, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was a drunken husband who had disappeared not long after they returned from church.
“Where have you been?” She eased her hands onto her hips and spoke through clenched teeth.
John scratched his nose, then belched as he glared at her. He might as well have slapped her across the face. “Ran some errands.”
“This late? And on a Sunday?” Cora’s heart was pounding in her chest as the possibilities ran through her mind. At Jake’s house? Another woman’s? Drinking out somewhere in public?
“Ya.” He shuffled to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.
Cora sat down on the bed, her lip trembling. She was so tired of crying. And so tired of living like this. She knew that Yankees sometimes went to a counselor for depression. No. Not Yankees. Englisch—that’s what everyone here called the non-Amish. Her friend Barbara, who was Englisch, had gone to such a person after her two miscarriages. Maybe John needed someone to talk to. Maybe they all did.
When John came out of the bathroom in his pajama bottoms and white T-shirt, he walked around to his side of the bed and got underneath the covers. Cora hadn’t moved from her spot on the bed. Within a minute, her husband was snoring.
Anna couldn’t believe her grandfather hadn’t given her a chance to explain. Did he trust her so little that he thought she’d be off doing something she shouldn’t? She pulled her brush from the drawer of her nightstand and ran it through her hair, thinking about Jacob. No way was she going to miss going out with him Saturday, even if she had to sneak out of the house to do so. Finally, someone seemed to have an interest in her, someone incredibly handsome and nice. She’d adhered to all of her grandfather’s rules over the years—most of them, at least—and she’d never given her grandparents any real trouble. It wasn’t right for him to treat her this way.
She snuggled beneath the sheet, wondering how she would manage to get away for her date. She’d barely gotten settled in and was enjoying a nice breeze blowing through the opened window when she heard a rustling outside.
Raccoons. She’d been battling with them in her garden for over a month. The sneaky little fellows seemed to have a special fondness for strawberries. Sighing, she slowly sat up, though there wasn’t much she could do right now. Tomorrow she’d have to put more mothballs around the fence edges. The mothballs seemed to deter them. For the most part.
She yawned as she got out of bed and walked to the window. She peered across the yard toward her lush garden filled with strawberries, tomatoes, hull peas, celery, peppers, and various other vegetables. Her grandfather had installed a solar light—the only kind he would allow—out by the garden to dissuade the critters from going over the fence. It was bright enough for her to see movement, but she couldn’t tell if it was the raccoons or maybe a deer trying to poke his nose between the wire mesh. Their home was far from the main road, and although her grandfather only grew hay on a few acres, their five-hundred-acre spread was home to lots of wildlife. Anna loved watching the deer dart across the open field, especially when they had little ones in tow, but she wasn’t fond of them eating her vegetables.
She blinked a few times and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the hazy movement beneath the solar light, which was only at its brightest after several days of full sun. The skies had clouded up the last few afternoons, so the light was dim, and she couldn’t tell what critter was stealing from her. She walked back to her nightstand, bumping her leg on the corner of the bed, then felt around in the drawer until she found a pair of binoculars she kept for this very purpose. She had to know what she was battling and if she needed to secure her garden even more.
Careful of the bedpost, she felt her way back to the window and raised the binoculars to her eyes. She moved them around until she was centered on the garden, then she turned the dials until the area came into focus.
She gasped when the intruder came into view.
6
NOAH STOLTZFUS, MD.
Noah picked up the nameplate on his desk and stared at it. He’d worked hard to become a doctor—at great personal cost. And over the past few years, he had almost felt like he’d redeemed himself for leaving his people. Apparently the new bishop didn’t agree.
He set the nameplate back on his desk and leaned back in his tan leather chair, wondering if today would be as quiet as yesterday . . . and the day before that . . . and the past few months before that.
“Dr. Stoltzfus?”
Noah raised an eyebrow and sat taller when he heard Francine’s voice. “Yes?”
“There’s someone here to see you. Alice Turner.”
Noah remembered the woman. That wasn’t hard since they’d only had six patients last week, but Alice stood out for other reasons. She’d come in without an appointment and refused to see the doctor, just kept asking Francine what she could take for an earache. Eventually Noah had emerged from his office and convinced the woman, who was obviously in a lot of pain, to let him look at her ear. Even then she’d protested, insisting she couldn’t pay for his services. In the end, Noah had given her some antibiotics and eardrops that he had on hand in the office and hadn’t charged her anything.
“Should I bring her back?” Francine was asking.
“Sure. That’s fine.” He didn’t have anything else to do at the moment. He eased his chair back and stood when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Francine ushered the woman into Noah’s office, then left.
Alice looked exactly like she had last week. She even wore the same clothes—a faded green dress that hung to her knees and worn white tennis shoes. Her tousled gray hair was loosely pulled into a bun, and the lines of time covered her face. She was a tiny little thing, and Noah didn�
��t think she weighed more than eighty pounds. He wondered what her story was. He’d have bet money that she had an interesting one.
“Hello, Mrs. Turner,” he said when she edged closer. “How’s your ear?”
The woman squinted like maybe she didn’t hear him, but then she held out a paper bag. “I brought you some strawberries. You said you like them.”
Noah took the bag and peeked inside to find at least two dozen plump berries. “These look great, but you didn’t need to do that.”
“You like them, right? You’ll eat them?” She crinkled her nose, sniffled, then squinted again.
Noah smiled. “Yes, I will. Thank you very much for bringing these to me.”
“What other fruit do you like?” The older woman scratched the side of her face, and Noah noticed the action left a smudge of black on her cheek. He glanced at her hands, hoping she wouldn’t ask him to eat one of the strawberries before he had a chance to wash them.
“I like all kinds of fruits. And vegetables.” He put the bag on his desk and sat back down. “But, Mrs. Turner, I was happy to help you with your earache. You don’t owe me anything.”
She scratched her cheek again, and Noah noticed the dirt thick beneath her nails. He’d suspected she might be homeless when she was here before, but this visit almost assured it. And there was a distinct odor in the room. He wanted to do something for her, but he didn’t want to insult her either. There was no telling when she’d last had a good meal. And where did she get the strawberries?
“Do you have a large garden?” Noah leaned back in his chair, recalling years past when he’d had a room full of patients waiting and no time for this sort of chitchat. “Or do you just grow strawberries?”
Mrs. Turner took a step forward so that now she was right on the other side of Noah’s desk. She pressed her thin lips together and let out a breath of air through her nose, then said, “You saved my life.”
Noah shook his head. “No, no. You just had an earache, and I gave you some medication that evidently helped.”
She wagged her small head back and forth so hard that more strands of gray hair came loose from her bun. “No. I was hurtin’ real bad. Thought I might die or go plumb insane from the ringing I heard. I was about to jump out in front of a car and end it all.” She flattened her palms on the edge of his desk and leaned forward. “You saved me from doing that. I wouldn’t have met the Lord if I’d have done that.”
“Well, I was happy to help.” Noah smiled. His practice was shot, but at least he’d been able to help this lost soul.
She pointed a finger at him and squeezed her lips together again. “I’ll see you soon. I always pay my debts!”
She spun around and left his office. Noah sighed. I’m sure I’ll be available.
He picked up his cell phone to call Carley. Jenna had been sick the past few days with a nasty cold, and he wanted to check on both his wife and daughter. But before he made the call, his thoughts shifted back to Bishop Byler.
The man had only been upholding a rule that had long been in place. Noah had been shunned for leaving the community following baptism and also for writing a book about his Amish upbringing—a subject matter that hadn’t sat well with members of the community, especially his family. According to the Ordnung, no one in the community should have had anything to do with him. But his family had forgiven him anyway, and old Bishop Ebersol had made allowances so that community members could visit Noah’s clinic.
Isaac Byler was a tough old coot, though, and he was determined that no Amish member of his district would come near the clinic for any reason. Noah had tried to talk to him several times, but the bishop wouldn’t give him the time of day. That had been eight months ago. He wondered if it would be worth it to try again. Maybe he’d been pressured enough by the community to consider lifting the ban.
If the bishop didn’t bend, Noah would have to consider relocating his practice. In the heart of Amish country—and way off the beaten path—his clinic wasn’t frequented by many Englisch, as the Amish called them.
He let out a heavy sigh and called Carley. Maybe he’d just take off early and spend time with his two favorite girls.
Anna hadn’t said anything to her grandparents about the woman she saw in the garden late last night. In truth, she hadn’t said much of anything to her grandparents at all. She was angry with Daadi for not listening, upset with Mammi for not standing up for her, and feeling a little guilty for thinking about sneaking out on Saturday—though she’d do it if she had to.
An early morning inspection showed that the old woman had robbed her of almost all of the ripe strawberries she would have picked today. Critters she could tend with, but she wasn’t sure what to do about an old woman picking in her garden well after dark. If she was so desperate to do such a thing, surely she was hungry.
Anna dressed for bed Monday night wishing she could talk to Emma about Jacob. But Mammi had kept her busy longer than usual delivering bread, jams, jellies, and homemade noodles. Her grandmother had also asked her to buy a few things from the grocery store—without mentioning it to her grandfather, of course.
When Anna returned home shortly before the supper hour, Daadi was out in the barn and Mammi was in the basement. Anna wasn’t sure what her grandmother kept down there, but she knew the little room stayed locked, and Mammi spent a lot of time in it. Once when Anna asked her about it, her grandmother said it was her prayer closet. Anna suspected more was going on down there than meditation or prayer.
It was barely after dark when she settled into bed, but four o’clock came early each morning. And she’d nearly drifted off to sleep when she heard the familiar rustling sound in her garden. She grabbed her binoculars and found her way to the window, shocked to see the old woman in her garden again. What is she going to steal this time?
Anna felt around her bedroom until she found her robe hanging on the peg, then slid into her slippers. She didn’t want to alarm the intruder by lighting a lantern. She tiptoed down the stairs, noting her grandparents’ door was shut. Holding her breath, she turned the knob on the back door, thinking she would sneak out, then make her way along the side of the house to get a closer look at the woman.
She took slow, careful steps up against the side of the house, hoping her own rustling didn’t send the woman running. As she grew nearer, she saw that the woman was facing away from her, with one arm raised high above her head. Anna boldly walked across the yard toward the garden.
“Hey!” Her heart raced as the tiny figure spun around. It took her a few seconds to make out the details of the woman’s face. “Mammi, what in the world are you doing out here?”
Her grandmother quickly stuffed her hands in her apron pockets, and Anna wondered if she’d gone mad.
“It’s late. What are you doing wandering around out here?” Anna asked again.
Mammi lifted her eyebrows and puckered her lips. She reminded Anna of a small child who’d just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“It’s a full moon.” Mammi pointed toward the stars. “I was making a wish.”
Anna planted her hands on her hips. “Ya, I’m sure that’s it. And was it a full moon last night too?”
Her grandmother lifted her chin. “What are you talking about?”
Anna shook her head. “Come on. It’s late. Let’s go in.”
Is that what it had come to? Now her grandmother was lying to her.
As Mammi got in step behind her, Anna slowed her pace and turned around to face her grandmother. “What did you do with all the strawberries?”
“What strawberries?”
Anna grinned at Mammi’s wide-eyed innocence, then at a bulge in her apron pocket. “What’s in your pocket?”
“My hands.” Her grandmother scooted around her and hurried to the house.
Like dealing with a child. Anna shook her head and followed her inside, hoping she wouldn’t venture out again.
And still wondering what had happened to all the strawberr
ies.
Marianne slipped quietly back into her bedroom and stashed her nonworking cell phone between the mattresses. Dumb phone.
She’d gone to Barbie Beiler’s house earlier in the day to charge her new phone. Barbie owned Beiler’s Bed and Breakfast, and the Englisch woman had always been a good friend to the Amish folks. Some of her husband’s kin were Amish. Barbie had helped her set up the phone, but now that she was on her own, Marianne couldn’t remember how to work it. She couldn’t seem to get on the Internet or even tell if she had a signal. Barbie had called the device a smart-phone. Marianne didn’t think it was very smart at all—and it was making her feel dumber by the moment.
At this point she’d pushed so many different buttons on the screen that she was lost. Barbie was leaving for her annual trip to Florida tomorrow morning, so Marianne was wondering who else she could get to help her.
Isaac would flip his lid if he knew she’d purchased the portable phone—even more so if he knew how much she’d spent on it. But she’d been saving her money from bakery sales for a long time. Her shopping had been limited because she didn’t have Internet access, but then she’d learned that the newer phones could connect you right to the Internet. She didn’t really understand how that all worked, but she knew it would be faster and easier than catalog orders. So she’d heard. If the phone would work.
Thankfully, Isaac was still snoring as she crawled underneath the sheet. She appreciated not having to make up something to tell him. When she couldn’t drift off to sleep, she thought back to when she started collecting her little luxury items. Anna had still been quite young. And to tell the truth, she wasn’t sure she could have survived living with Isaac for all these years without her little hobby. But at the end of the day, like now, the deceit still bothered her.
It occurred to her that maybe that was why sleep never came easy.
By Thursday morning, Jacob was getting more and more excited about his date with Anna. He’d already cleared using the buggy with his mother. It would take awhile for him to save enough money from his work at the lumberyard to buy his own buggy. In the past, he would have asked his father to help him, but he didn’t ask Daed much of anything these days. And he’d noticed that his father had stayed out late the other night. He hated the way his mother often looked like she’d been crying, with dark circles underneath her eyes. He was resenting his father more and more.
Plain Peace (A Daughters of the Promise Novel) Page 6
