by Reid, Ruth
“You’ve always been such gut friends. I always thought you two would make a cute couple.”
“We both know why it could never be so.” Grace shrugged. “God’s power is made perfect in mei weakness,” she said in a rehearsed monotone.
“Be mindful that you don’t become resentful.”
Don’t become . . . ? Grace curled her lip in a strained smile. Her friend had a wonderful husband. It was easy for Mattie to give counsel when her life was perfect. Grace rebuked her jealous thoughts.
“I’m worried all this rain will melt the ice on the river. Andy’s usually the first one to cross.”
“Your husband also knows the river the best. He knows when it’s safe or when they need to take extra precautions. You told me so yourself.”
Mattie nodded. “I’ll be happy when they finish clear-cutting that side of the river and they can timber on our side again.”
“Me too.” Grace recalled the long walks she and Philemon would take to check the saplings’ progress. She enjoyed watching the trees grow over the years. They planted a few acres of oaks the first year they arrived, spruce the next year. Philemon talked a lot, mostly about the trees, but she never grew tired of listening to him.
“Grace?” Mattie’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“I asked if you were stocking up too.” Mattie motioned to the list in Grace’s hand.
“Jah.” Grace forced a smile, then let it drop the moment she turned toward the shelves. She removed a ten-pound bag of flour from the shelf and lowered it into her cart, then grabbed another one.
Mattie selected a bag of powdered sugar. “I’m replenishing mei pantry too. I think we’re going to flood early this year.”
“Parts of mei road already are.” They were used to being snow-bound during the winter and blocked from the main road in early spring because of flooding and mud. Everyone planned accordingly and shared as supplies dwindled. Grace glanced at the next items on her list. Sugar, cornstarch, and coffee. Coffee was in the next aisle over.
“How did the poultice work?”
“I was going to stop on mei way home and tell you how much better I feel today. A miracle for sure.”
“Nay, nay.” Mattie held up her hand. “Don’t praise me. Give thanks to God.”
Grace smiled. “I did when I woke up and wasn’t in pain. And then I thanked Him for giving me such a smart friend.” Grace lifted the hem of her dress just high enough to show her ankles. “See, they aren’t swollen.”
“Gut. I’m glad you feel better, but you still need new shoes.” Mattie fluttered her list. “I better finish mei shopping. It’s mei day to take lunch to the workers at the sawmill, which reminds me, how is Susan’s mamm? I told her I would work her day at the mill.”
Grace shook her head. “Nett much better. Please keep her in your prayers.”
“I will. Let me know if there is anything I can do,” she said, pushing her cart forward.
“I’ll be sure to.” Grace scanned the list. Coffee was the last item. She pushed her cart forward, the front wheel squeaking under the weight.
Grace selected a can of dark roast, then, remembering Mattie said she saw a man next to her buggy, she headed back to the produce area. Assuming the Florida men liked fresh fruit, maybe they would accept a peace offering. If nothing else, they could eat it on the bus.
Grace inspected a bag of apples for soft spots and placed them in her cart. As she looked at the pears, the bishop’s wife, Mary, approached.
“I’m glad to see you’re stocking up on supplies. James dropped me off so I could pick up a few things while he went to the feed store and a few other places. He said he had errands to take care of for some of the men.”
Their bishop stopped going to camp with the men the year he turned seventy-eight, but he hadn’t slowed down around the settlement. Most of the wives and children handled feeding the livestock, but he mended fences and picked up feed when someone ran low. Grace was thankful her father and brothers checked the fences and stocked up on the livestock feed before they left so she didn’t have to bother the bishop.
Grace figured Mary would say if she’d heard anything from the men, but she asked anyway. “Any word from camp?”
“Nothing yet.” Mary’s voice cracked.
“I’m sure they’re all fine. Wet, but fine.” Grace tried to sound hopeful, but when Mary’s sullen expression didn’t change, Grace wished she hadn’t said anything. Only a year ago, Mary lost one of her grandsons when he got pinned under a tree. The entire settlement mourned his death, as the accident could happen to any one of the men.
Mary dabbed a hankie over her eyes. “They’re in God’s hands.”
“We all are.”
The bishop’s wife tucked her hankie back into her handbag. “I better finish shopping or James will return from the feed store to pick me up and I won’t be ready. Did I tell you he’s called a meeting tonight?”
“What time?”
“Six o’clock. I thought I would make a pot of chili. Can you bring a pan of cornbread?”
“Sure,” Grace said. “Have you seen Mattie? She’s here in the store.”
“Nay, I haven’t.” Mary looked around the produce department. “I should go find her and let her know about the meeting. I’ll see you tonight.”
Grace made her way to the register and paid for her groceries. She hurried through the parking lot in the rain, but when she opened the door of her buggy, Ben and Toby were not waiting on the bench.
Ben slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and caught up with Toby on the sidewalk in front of a women’s dress shop. “You think Grace was upset about the pigeon comment?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought she was joking about smoke signals.”
“Maybe she was.”
Ben glanced over his shoulder at the IGA’s entrance a half block away. “I still think we should have waited at the buggy.”
“For what?” Toby paused at the corner of Pine and First Streets. “She isn’t someone easily wooed.”
“But surely she would have given us a ride—”
“To the bus station.” Toby motioned ahead. “We can walk a block.” He stepped off the curb, heading in the station’s direction.
The walk seemed pointless. Ben had a few dollars, maybe enough to buy a cheap meal at a fast-food place, but couldn’t cover bus fare. He looked up at the gray sky. He’d rather be under shelter when it started raining again.
They reached the cement block building in a matter of minutes. Once they were inside the station, Toby sat on the nearest bench, rummaged through his duffel bag, and pulled out his wallet. “How much money do you have?”
Ben plopped down beside Toby. No need to count his money. He already knew the figure. “Eight dollars and thirty-eight cents.” That amount wouldn’t take him to the other side of town on a city bus.
Toby stopped counting and looked up. “That’s all?”
Ben nodded. “I guess mei daed thought if I had more spending money, I might return.”
Toby finished counting. “I have eighty and some change.”
“That isn’t enough to get you out of Michigan, let alone to Florida.” They were both stuck.
“I know.” Toby shoved the cash back into his bag and stood. “We have to figure out something.” He paced across the room and returned. “I guess we should have stayed at the grocery store and begged Grace for mercy.”
“We would have a better chance convincing her aenti to let us stay. At least Erma seemed to like us.”
“Gut point.” Toby smiled. “Wait with our stuff and I’ll see if Clutch is working. Maybe he will give us another ride.”
This was yesterday all over again. Even the red banner on the television issued the same breaking news about the unstable mental patient still at large. Ben grabbed their bags and moved to a bench closer to the television as the reporter announced they would cut to a live brief
ing held by the chief of police.
The police officer opened with a summary of yesterday’s event, adding that Jack Harrison, a ward assistant at the county’s Behavior Unit, was now listed as a person of interest. Apparently, the worker went missing shortly after the mental patient escaped. The police officer assured the reporters that no charges had been filed, but encouraged anyone knowing Jack Harrison’s whereabouts to come forward.
Toby tapped Ben’s shoulder. “Clutch said he would give us a ride, but his shift doesn’t end for another three hours.”
“We’ll wait,” Ben said. Three hours was still better than walking. He sank into a slouched position—might as well get comfortable. On the television, a reporter asked the officer about the condition of the nurse who was stabbed during the escape.
Toby sat on the bench. “We should probably figure out what we’re going to say to Erma.”
“We tell her the truth. We have no money and we need a place to stay until your onkel returns.” Ben shrugged. “Unless you have a better idea?”
Toby shook his head. He leaned down and opened his bag once more, mumbling something about a letter he’d written and wanting to find the post office so he could mail it home. “Have you written a letter to your parents telling them we’ve made it?”
“When have I had time?”
Toby tapped the envelope on his leg. “I wrote mine on the bus.”
“Jah, I know.” Ben had also seen him mail a letter when they transferred buses in Jacksonville. They hadn’t even made it out of the state and he was writing home. Ben turned his attention to the television. Not that he was interested in worldly news, but he didn’t want a lecture about writing home when his father had sent him away.
“Is it true Gordon Wellford hates women?” the reporter asked the police official.
“I’m not able to comment on that at this time.” The chief of police pointed to another raised hand.
“I take it they haven’t caught him yet,” Toby said.
“Doesn’t sound like it.” Ben missed the next reporter’s question, but judging by the officer’s comment that he wasn’t a physician and couldn’t answer questions about the fugitive’s medications, Ben figured the inquiry had something to do with the man’s state of mind being on the run unmedicated.
The programming returned to the channel reporter. “To recap—”
A white-bearded man stepped in front of Ben and Toby and cleared his throat. “I’m Bishop Yoder.”
Ben pushed himself into an upright position while Toby stood.
The bishop glanced over his shoulder at the television set, then turned back to them. “You must be Toby and Ben.”
“Jah.” Toby stepped forward. “We’re from Florida.”
“I know. I just received a letter today about your arrival. I hope you haven’t had to wait long.”
Grace veered Jasper onto the narrow road leading back to the settlement. She had spent more time in town than she wanted, and now she would have to hurry to get home in time to make cornbread for the meeting. The buggy rolled over exposed roots, bouncing the grocery sacks on the bench. She stretched her free arm across the bags to keep them from falling off the seat while holding the reins with her other hand. This road washed out every spring, but never to this extent and never in March. The creek, which ran parallel to the road, had risen since they’d passed through earlier. Keeping Jasper centered between the trees flanking both sides proved difficult.
The buggy wheel dropped into a hole and a groan escaped her mouth. She tapped the reins lightly and heard another groan, louder and deeper than her own. Grace glanced over her shoulder but didn’t find anything out of place in the back. Jasper lunged forward, but unable to get traction under his hooves, the horse sidestepped. Perhaps if she lightened the horse’s load by getting out of the buggy and coaxing him forward, he could bring the wheel out of the hole.
Grace climbed out of the buggy, her foot landing in a shin-high puddle of water. She waded to the front and took hold of Jasper’s reins.
“Kumm, boy.” She clicked her tongue and, at the same time, tugged the reins. Jasper’s nostrils flared as he lurched forward. The buggy didn’t budge. She gave the horse a moment to rest, then coaxed him once again to pull. This time, the wheel wrenched forward, but the harness snapped. What little progress Jasper had made moving the buggy ended when the wheel rolled back into the hole. Something thudded. Certain the noise came from inside the buggy, Grace peeked at the groceries. Everything appeared fine. The little bit of rocking the buggy had done hadn’t jostled the bags off the bench.
Grace inspected the harness. Nothing she could repair. Thankfully, her father had an extra one in the equipment room. But that wouldn’t help her now. Even if she could get the wheel unstuck, Jasper couldn’t pull anything with a broken harness. She had no choice but to leave the buggy on the road and walk Jasper home. A chore she dreaded since her shoes were already soaked from standing in the puddle, and water squished out of them with each step.
Grace opened the buggy door and removed the bag of cornmeal from the grocery sack. If she didn’t need it to make cornbread for the get-together, she would have left it with the rest of the groceries.
Grace unhitched Jasper. She had led him a few feet away when something creaked behind her. Grace looked over her shoulder. After staring at the stationary buggy a moment, she turned back and took a step toward it, then froze. A chill swept through her body. The buggy had moved.
Chapter Seven
Grace hiked the wooded path leading to the bishop’s house with her mind on more than the meeting. Earlier when she’d seen the buggy move, she’d become paralyzed with fear and hadn’t had the nerve to investigate. Now she wished she had, just to put her mind at ease.
Her shoes still wet from walking in the rain earlier, Grace slipped on the slick surface of the rocks. It was hard enough to balance multiple pans of cornbread while having her young nephew joined at her hip, clutching a fistful of her dress skirt in his hand, but she managed to keep herself from falling.
“Are you okay?” Aenti Erma reached for the pans. “Let me carry those.”
“Nay, I can manage.” Her aunt already had a gallon jar of tea in one arm and the lantern in the other.
LeAnn lifted the plate of fudge-covered peanut-butter bars she was holding. “I’ll trade you.”
Grace’s leg muscles quivered. “I’m fine. We’re almost there.” Just one more hill—no, mountain—to climb. She took shorter steps until she reached the peak. The bishop’s house, nestled between a standing of jack pines, came into view.
Mitch sprinted ahead.
Grace wished she had a fraction of his energy. Walking Jasper to the barn after she got the buggy stuck had worn her out. She hadn’t had the strength to go back for the groceries. She planned to send Mitch after them once school ended, but she assigned him the barn chores to do instead. Making it to the meeting on time was more important, and there wasn’t anything in the buggy that would spoil. The groceries could wait until morning.
Even as his older brother ran ahead, Jonas remained with Grace.
Mary Yoder opened the door and greeted them with a smile. “It’s so gut to see you again, Erma.”
“It’s gut to be back.” They entered the kitchen and Aenti Erma and Mary chatted about mutual friends they had in Ohio.
Grace set the pans of cornbread on the counter with the other food. She reached for Jonas’s hand. “Let’s get your coat off so you can play with the other children.” She tugged his sleeve and he pulled his arm free.
Grace removed her cloak as laughter drifted into the kitchen from the sitting room. In this time of uncertainty about the men’s well-being, it didn’t seem appropriate . . . unless . . . Grace tossed her cloak on the pile with the others and hurried into the sitting room.
“What am I miss—?” Her smile dropped when Ben looked up from where he was sitting.
“Ben and Toby were telling us about Florida.” Delilah Trombly nudged
Ben’s arm like they were old friends. “Please, continue.”
“Jah,” Grace said. “Don’t let me stop you.” Not that it was possible. The man was clearly in his element surrounded by the unmarried women. She wouldn’t pamper him with the same attention. Grace turned toward the kitchen. Wasn’t it about time for the meeting to start?
Badger Creek was looking better all the time. Ben did a quick kapp count of the women. Twenty. “Don’t you love the odds?” he said under his breath to Toby.
“It’s all in the chase, isn’t it?” Toby huffed. “Even Neva.”
“Neva chased me. She knew what time I got off the boat and she was waiting at the harbor with an opened bottle of tequila.”
Toby’s jaw twitched.
“Why do you concern yourself? You’re the one who reminded me it’s been a year.” Ben smiled as the roomful of women surrounded him and Toby.
Grace’s sister, LeAnn, had pressed her way through the swarm until she was by his side. The girl had a sweet smile. Ben couldn’t help but compare the two sisters. While LeAnn seemed to thrive on competition, Grace retracted as though she had a phobia of crowds—or of him.
Bishop Yoder entered the room. Ben stopped talking midsentence. The unmarried women broke from the tight nest and went to the opposite side of the room as the married women filed out of the kitchen.
Ben glanced sideways at Toby. Did he feel on display too? The men’s half of the room was empty.
“I want to start by introducing Alvin Graber’s nephew.” The bishop motioned to them. “This is Toby Graber and his friend Ben Eicher. For those of you who don’t know, they are from Florida.”
Ben scanned the women’s side of the room, his gaze stopping on Grace. Her eyes connected with his a moment, then flitted away. Snob. All the other women had welcoming smiles. She was pale compared to the women in Florida. Not surprising. He’d been in Michigan two days and hadn’t seen the sun once.
