Woodland Miracle (9781401688332)

by Reid, Ruth

  “The motel owner didn’t want to press charges,” the officer said. “You two are free to go.”

  Ben blew out a breath. “Thank you.”

  “I suggest from now on you stay off private property.”

  “We will.” Ben meant it too. The next time he wanted to cool off, he would do so with a garden hose.

  Toby rolled his eyes at Ben, then shoved past him and walked out without a backward glance.

  Ben wanted as far away from the police station as possible. Hopefully their parents wouldn’t find out where they had spent their afternoon. But once he stepped into the lobby, he realized keeping anything a secret wouldn’t be possible. Ben’s and Toby’s fathers stood up from the bench.

  While Toby’s father quizzed his son, Ben’s daed looked him over hard.

  “Why are your clothes nett wet like Toby’s?”

  Ben stared at the scuff marks on the floor.

  “I asked you a question,” his father said.

  “I didn’t swim in them.”

  As expected, his father harrumphed at the answer, then headed for the door. Ben had seen his father’s shoulders slump a number of times, but never like this. Without uttering a word, Ben and Toby trailed their fathers outside. Streetlights illuminated the sidewalk outside the police station. It was later than he thought. Ben climbed into their neighbor’s parked van.

  The ride home was silent. Ben’s father never spoke about personal matters—or in Ben’s case, his son’s shortcomings—in front of Englischers. Once they were home though, he braced for a long lecture. Instead, his daed treated him as though he were poison. When Ben sat down for supper, his father rose from his chair and left the kitchen. Even his mamm couldn’t convince Daed to eat with the family.

  The following morning, Ben found his parents seated at the table, his mother blotting a hankie over her eyes and his father stoic. Ben’s stomach tightened. “I’m sorry.” In most homes, an admission of wrongdoing and an apology would elicit some form of forgiveness, but neither parent responded.

  His father pushed back his chair and stood. “You have less than an hour to pack your bags.”

  Pack? Where was he going? He had two older sisters, both married and living in Indiana. He would only be in the way living with them.

  “We’re sending you to work in a lumber camp.”

  Ben swallowed hard. The only lumber camp he’d ever heard about was in northern Michigan, where Toby’s uncle lived. It seemed drastic, even for his father, to send him so far away.

  “I suggest you pack warm clothes,” his father said. “You might be there awhile.”

  BADGER CREEK DISTRICT, MICHIGAN

  Grace Wagler stood inside the station next to the window and studied the passengers as they disembarked from the bus. She had another half hour to wait before her aunt’s bus arrived. Grace had planned for more time to do her morning chores so she wouldn’t be late, but finished them sooner than she’d expected.

  The automatic doors opened and, along with arriving passengers, a gust of wind swept through the building. Grace sidestepped the foot traffic and limped a few feet over to an empty bench. She would move if an elderly person needed to sit, but for the moment, she needed to rest. Days like today she felt older than dirt. The unforgiving concrete floor triggered agony in her joints that no one in their twenties should experience. Grace rubbed the length of her thigh, then massaged her left knee. Swollen. Sometimes she wished she didn’t live in such a cold climate. Lately it seemed the winters were longer and her inflamed joints stiffer.

  A beep—beep—beep from a wall-mounted television caught her attention. A newscaster standing outside of a hospital was speaking, but the low volume on the set made it impossible to hear his report. Normally, if she were anywhere near a television, she would ignore the programming, but a flashing red banner at the bottom of the screen read Breaking News.

  Someone close by cleared his throat and she jerked her hand away from her leg. Two men stood before her. Their teeth chattered as they rubbed their hands over their bare arms.

  “Excuse me,” the taller man with blond hair said.

  Her gaze traveled between the two men, landing on the one who spoke. “Me?”

  “You’re Amish, jah?” The man smirked.

  Usually only Englischers asked that. These two men had on suspenders and wore straw hats, but if they were Amish, they were fence-jumpers. She hadn’t known any district to allow short-sleeved shirts. The Ordnung she followed forbade clothes that showed any skin.

  Grace glanced around the depot trying to spot someone from her settlement, then chided herself. The men hadn’t returned from the river camp and most of the women had started spring-cleaning. Still, she shouldn’t be talking with strangers, especially not backsliders.

  Someone turned up the volume on the television. “. . . Again, the man is unstable, has a history of violent outbursts, and is considered extremely dangerous.”

  The blond man glanced at the television.

  Grace pushed off the bench. Shards of needle pricks pierced her leg as she wobbled to the other side of the room. She leaned against the wall next to the window and eased out a breath. The blond-haired man pursued her across the lobby, while the one with curly, dark hair stayed with their duffel bags.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said. “I didn’t mean to sound flip. It’s just that we’ve been traveling three days, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I seem rushed to leave the bus station.”

  Goose bumps crawled up Grace’s arms. Now she really wished someone from her district were in the station. She’d never known an Amish man to be this persistent.

  Unstable. The news reporter’s words rolled over in her mind. Just a coincidence. She should have turned away from the television. Grace glanced out the window. He probably wouldn’t follow her outside, not shivering like he was.

  The man cleared his throat. “So, where are you parked?”

  Chapter Two

  Where did you park?” Ben repeated the question slower, and this time in Pennsylvania Deitsch. But that didn’t elicit a response. The Amish woman’s unblinking eyes were as cold as the inside of an ice chest and brown like the color an apple turns when it goes bad.

  “So, I take it you’re nett—”

  A scratchy overhead voice broadcasting a bus arrival drowned out Ben’s words. He waited, but as the announcement repeated, she turned and scurried out the door.

  Skittish pup. She acted as though she had never spoken with a man and she had to be in her twenties. Florida Amish were much more pleasant to strangers than this woman was being to him. He hoped the members of Badger Creek were more welcoming. Ben started to follow her, but stopped when she greeted an older woman who had just stepped off a bus. Obviously, she hadn’t been sent to pick up him and Toby. Ben shook his head and walked back into the station.

  Toby clapped Ben’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. If no one comes to get us, I found someone who will give us a ride. He doesn’t get off work for an hour, but he said it would take that long to get a cab.”

  Ben rubbed his arms to warm them. “Let’s find a vending machine and get something to drink.”

  “So, what district is that woman from?”

  “I couldn’t get her to talk.” Ben turned to look out the window. “She’s an icy one.”

  “Or maybe you’ve lost your charm.”

  Ben shrugged. Under different circumstances he’d return the jab, but this was the most Toby had talked since they boarded the bus a couple of days ago. Sore at the world—but mostly at Ben—Toby had no sense of adventure. It would take some time to get adapted to the cold weather, but leaving Florida wasn’t so bad. Ben just wished the circumstances of their departure had been different. His daed drove him to the bus station, but never said good-bye or even wished him well.

  Jah, he was ready for a fresh start. Provided his reputation hadn’t preceded him.

  Grace grabbed the two twine-tied boxes once the bus attendant had removed them from the ca
rgo area. She lugged them a few feet out of the way of the other passengers and set the boxes down, her arms tingling with numbness.

  “Let me carry one,” Aenti Erma said.

  “Nay. I’m fine.” Grace switched the heavier box to her opposite hand, which helped to even out her balance. “Ready?”

  Her aunt nodded and they headed toward the parking lot.

  Grace scanned the area. After the stranger practically stalked her in the station, she didn’t want to linger in the parking lot. The wooden lift her father had attached to the bottom of her shoe had worn down to a nub and hindered her stride. Her legs felt like they were fifty-pound bags of grain, but she pushed herself to increase her pace. Even so, Aenti Erma not only kept up, but her breathing wasn’t as labored.

  “You seem to be limping more,” Aenti Erma said. “Are you doing all right?”

  Grace glanced at the dark clouds directly overhead. “Just want to make it to the buggy before it rains or snows again.” Lately the weather had been unpredictable, alternating between sleet and snow. The long season Grace spent nursing her aching joints had made her miserable enough at times to consider her aunt’s offer to join her in Ohio. In the past, she had dismissed the notion, but since Philemon shared his upcoming engagement plans prior to leaving for camp, the idea of moving was tempting. Philemon must have known she would need time to adjust to the news.

  A mist of frigid rain sprayed her face. But Grace’s legs hurt too much to go any faster.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry one of those boxes?”

  Grace shook her head. “I’m fine.” The buggy was close by and if she didn’t use her muscles she feared they would shrivel like her mother’s had. Besides, it wasn’t like she had never been caught in a downpour before. It had rained the past five days. Grace motioned ahead. “Aenti, please don’t wait for me. Get in the buggy where it’s dry.”

  Not watching her feet, Grace stepped into a depression in the pavement. The thin layer of ice broke and the puddle of water splashed on the hem of her dress.

  “I’ll get the buggy door.” At fifty-two, Aenti sped past her with ease.

  At twenty-two, less than half her aunt’s age, Grace’s limp made her feel frail and decrepit. Aenti was “full of juice,” as Mamm used to joke about her younger sister’s energy. But it wasn’t the age difference that separated the sisters’ abilities—Aenti Erma wasn’t plagued with the same illness, which left Grace’s mother wheelchair bound and ultimately stole her life.

  Grace loaded the crates into the back end of the buggy. By the time she had Jasper untied from the tree branch and she was seated on the bench, Grace was drenched. She looked down at her wet cloak and the bottom of her dress clinging to her legs. “Well, we almost made it.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t have more snow. It’s certainly kalt enough.” Her aunt cupped her hands in front of her mouth and blew on them.

  “After five days of sleet, most of the snow has melted.” Grace reached behind the seat for the extra pair of gloves and handed them to her aunt.

  Aenti Erma slipped her hands into the knitted wool gloves. “I misplaced mei gloves somewhere between the first bus stop and here. I had them when I left Middlefield.”

  “How is your cousin doing?”

  “Better nau that the cast has been removed. The doktah was pleased with how well her leg healed and said she shouldn’t have to use the crutches for more than a week or two.”

  “That is gut news.”

  Aenti smiled. “I didn’t expect a two-month delay. How were you able to manage?”

  “We did fine.” Aenti had a big heart for taking care of people in need. She started splitting her months between staying in Ohio and living with them in Badger Creek prior to Mamm’s passing away and had returned every year since.

  Grace used her free hand to rub her leg, trying to relax her knotted muscles.

  “Your legs are getting worse.”

  Grace stopped massaging her leg and grasped the reins with both hands. “This kalt, damp weather always gives me more problems.” So did carting heavy crates across a parking lot.

  Aenti frowned. “Has this last winter been hard?”

  “Long.” Grace forced a smile. She didn’t want to talk about her physical limitations. Those thoughts only reminded her of how her mother’s condition started when she was Grace’s age and how much she had suffered with muscular dystrophy during her final years. “The maple trees are starting to produce sap.”

  “You know that’s nett why I asked.”

  “Aenti, we have this conversation every time you arrive and we’ll have it again before you leave. So, before you tell me how much better mei joints would be living in a milder climate, I’ll just tell you nau, I can’t move to Ohio. I have responsibilities at home, a job at the lumberyard—I have more orders for dog beds than I can handle. Besides,” she said, pausing a moment to calm her rising voice, “I’m taking care of mei nephews. Susan’s mother took a hard fall on the ice last month and she’s still nett moving around well.”

  “You must think of your health, mei dear child.”

  “It snows in Middlefield too.” A flimsy excuse, but Aenti had to know by now that Grace wouldn’t change her mind—she couldn’t. Who would look out for LeAnn when her father and brothers spent five months out of the year at the timber camp?

  Her aunt shivered. “I can’t get used to how kalt it is up here.”

  Aenti’s teeth chattered much like the man’s had at the bus station. If he hadn’t talked down to her, speaking slow in Pennsylvania Deitsch like she didn’t understand English, maybe she would have listened. It was just as well that Aenti’s bus arrived when it did. Grace wouldn’t want her aunt thinking she associated with fence-jumpers.

  The low fog hovered over the road and decreased visibility, but Jasper knew the way home. She hoped the dirt road leading to their settlement wasn’t flooded. Several days of rain along with the runoff of melting snow had filled the drainage ditch. Her thoughts shifted to her father and brothers at the timber camp. Cutting trees in the rain was more dangerous. The men would be wet and cold . . .

  “You’re awfully quiet,” her aunt said. “Is something wrong?”

  “Just wondering how this rain will affect the work at the timber camp.”

  The men planned the trip according to the thickness of ice on the river. Over the years, Grace had heard plenty of stories of the ice cracking beneath them because they waited too long to begin the journey home. Last year they sent the dogs across first, pulling an empty sled while the men belly-crawled across the frozen water with the supplies tied to their ankles to disperse the weight.

  Grace shuddered.

  Frozen or not, she hated the river. She hadn’t dipped so much as a toe in the water in over five years. And she never would.

  “Are you concerned about anyone in particular?” Her aunt let the question linger so Grace would fill in the blank about Philemon.

  Aenti probably thought that was the real reason she hadn’t wanted to move to Ohio—but just the opposite was true. When her childhood friend made her privy to his intentions to marry Becky Lapp once he returned from camp, Grace battled thoughts of fleeing to Ohio to live with her aunt. At least long enough to mend her broken heart.

  “Well?” Aenti prompted.

  “Of course I’m concerned about Daed and Emery and Peter.”

  “And Philemon?”

  “Philemon and all the men at camp. We should have seen a signal by nau.” Until their settlement devised a way to signal one another, the women had constantly fretted during the months the men were away. At least now when one of the boys spotted the chemically colored smoke, everyone knew the men were closing down the camp and heading back.

  “Be anxious for nothing.” Aunt Erma often quoted the Bible verse and more so when the ice on the river melted faster than usual.

  “I’ve been praying.” Grace’s prayers started just after the men had left—for a safe cutting season a
nd that she would have a pure heart when Philemon returned to marry the girl he loved.

  “They’re in God’s hands.” Aunt Erma reached across the seat and patted Grace’s leg. “Nothing is solved with worry.”

  Grace nodded. “Mamm used to say those exact words.”

  “And you will one day tell your children that same thing.”

  If she ever had children, Grace wanted to encourage their faith as her mother had hers. But marriage wasn’t likely—not living in a settlement where the women outnumbered the men three to one. Who would want someone in her condition? Philemon didn’t. She always wanted their friendship to blossom into more—even prayed for him to see the special connection they shared. But befriending a clumsy little girl out of pity was one thing—seeing her differently when she grew up, wanting to marry her despite a limp, was ludicrous.

  Grace slowed Jasper as they neared the road leading to the settlement. The moment she turned, the buggy wheel sank into the soft ground. It didn’t seem to matter how many rocks they used to fill the holes, the by-product of winter was thick, slippery, sludge-like goo.

  The buggy dipped to the opposite side. Aenti Erma jostled on the bench, arms flailing.

  “Hold on.” Grace veered the horse to one side, the wheel running the ridge of the ditch. She managed to dodge a water-filled hole of questionable depth, but wasn’t able to steer them clear of the low-hanging tree limb.

  Aenti Erma gasped as the branches scraped the buggy’s rooftop.

  Grace caught a glimpse of her aunt’s wide-eyed stare at the road ahead. “Are you okay?”

  “Jah.” Aenti’s face paled. She had never liked going down this narrow road in the buggy.

  They still had another bend before they reached the area where the road split. The forked section always flooded first, and judging by the puddles so far, the ride might get bouncier yet.

  Jasper picked up his pace rounding the bend. Grace gripped the reins tighter and slowed the horse. A few feet ahead, water encroached from both sides of the road. Unearthed roots webbed the narrow passage. Afraid they’d get stuck if she stopped, Grace clucked her tongue. Rolling over a large root, the wheel thumped. Then something cracked.