Her Fear

by Shelley Shepard Gray

He was forty years old and had nothing to show for it. Inwardly, Stephen winced, hating himself for feeling so pitiful.

  Then, too, there were some who would say his statement was a terrible exaggeration. Maybe even blatantly false.

  After all, he did have something to show for his life, and that was two wonderful-gut children.

  Now that was not an exaggeration. They really were wonderful. Monroe was handsome and smart. He’d always been popular with the other kinner in school and had often had the top marks in math and spelling. Now he was just as popular in the community. He was the type of man who could make the best of any situation. Stephen had no doubt that Monroe would get asked to be a part of the lot the next time they needed to call for a preacher.

  That would have made his mother, Jean, so proud.

  She would have been just as proud of their Esther, who was loyal and happy and comfortable—and would make any man a worthy wife. Stephen figured that the young men in the area would come courting soon, too. He’d had a feeling they were simply biding their time until she was of age. Now they were no doubt waiting until several months passed after Esther’s grandmother’s death.

  As Stephen aimlessly walked along the aisles of the bulk-food store, scanning labels without actually reading them, he wondered why he wasn’t feeling the need to grieve. Was it because he now felt numb to almost any kind of pain?

  Or was he feeling mostly relief?

  The thought both shamed and scared him.

  Everything he was feeling was so different than when he’d lost his sweet Jean. She’d accidentally drowned when Monroe was nine and Esther was eight. They’d been at the Green River, and she’d gotten caught up in an undertow and had died before he could get to her side. He’d never forget that frantic swim, his lungs burning as he tried so hard to get to her faster, all the while seeing her vanish from his sight.

  Some said it wasn’t his fault. Perhaps when he died, the Lord would say the same thing, too.

  But her parents had never been shy about placing the blame firmly on his shoulders. He’d vowed to care for Jean and he’d failed.

  He had accepted the blame, though he’d soon discovered that it didn’t really matter. Jean was gone, and Esther and Monroe had been left without a mother.

  And that was when everything in his life had started falling apart. First he’d sold the house and moved in with his parents so he could still farm. Then he’d discovered that his parents were low on money, so he loaned them most of it.

  By the time he fully understood where that money was going, he was stuck. He was out of savings and out of choices. Soon, he was helping his father in the cellar and making runs. Lying to everyone from the sheriff to the bishop.

  And then someone started blackmailing them, and the profits that they made were eaten up again.

  Now he found himself stuck in the middle of a topsy-turvy cycle, feeling like he was a bit of laundry getting spun and wrung out but never getting a chance to rest, dry, and be put to use.

  Thinking of the metaphor for his life, Stephen grimaced, both at his flight of fancy and that he was even allowing himself to dwell on self-pity.

  “You know, I’ve often felt like groaning at these shelves myself,” a woman said from his right.

  He turned, then flushed. Because, of course, it had to be Daisy Lapp. Daisy had been Jean’s best friend growing up, but he and her had never been close. Though she’d never actually said anything, he’d gotten the feeling that she didn’t approve of him.

  A tiny part of him now realized that she had been justified in her feelings.

  “Sorry. I didn’t see you there, Daisy.” The moment he blurted his words, he wished he could take them back. He’d sounded rude.

  “There’s no need to apologize. I just walked up.”

  Her perky, immediate reply was a good example of why he’d never trusted her. Daisy had an answer for everything. Always.

  Jean had often found her girlfriend’s quips funny. He, on the other hand, felt that her constant need to have the last word was the reason why she was an old maid.

  Now, though? He was finding her smile strangely comforting.

  When Daisy smiled at him again, her wide-set brown eyes filled with kindness and laughter, Stephen was tempted to smile back. And maybe notice that she’d kept her girlish figure and looked far younger than her age.

  Which was something else he shouldn’t be noticing.

  He was ready for her to get whatever she’d come for and leave him in peace. “Am I in your way?”

  For a second, hurt flashed in her eyes before she covered it up. “Nee.” Reaching out, Daisy grabbed a plastic container of pecans and placed it in her shopping basket. “I know I already told you this at the funeral, but I am sorry about Verba.”

  “Danke.”

  “How is Willis doing?”

  “About as well as a man can expect to be, given that his wife is dead.”

  She inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  And now he was sorry he was behaving like such a bully. Practically feeling Jean’s long index finger jabbing him in between his shoulder blades, he exhaled. “Daisy, I am the one who should be apologizing. I have no excuse for talking to you like that. Please forgive me.”

  To his shame, she gazed at him closely, as if she was trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not.

  Whatever she saw in his face must have given her comfort, because she simply shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll, ah, get out of your way now.”

  Her voice was thick. Husky. His insides sank as he realized that she was attempting to fight off tears. Feeling alarmed, he reached for her. “Daisy, I was sincere. I truly am sorry.” Somehow, whether on purpose or because he was destined to make a mess of it all, he ended up grasping her hand and not her arm.

  And then her fingers clasped his own and held on tight.

  Daisy looked just as startled as he did by their sudden connection. She let go.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m simply having a bad day.” She made an effort to smile, but it failed.

  Which caused something inside him to hurt. “What’s the matter?” he asked quickly. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Nee, I just haven’t been feeling like myself lately.” She rolled her eyes. “Or for quite a while. I’ll be okay.”

  “What has been wrong?”

  “I’ve been tired. Real tired. My joints have been hurting, and I’ve been experiencing a couple of other things. First, I went to the chiropractor, but he referred me to a physician over at the clinic.” She sighed. “Today one of his assistants called Mrs. Cartwright, who told me that I now have to go see a specialist.”

  “So something is really wrong.”

  “Maybe there is.” She pointed to a faint rash that sprayed across her cheeks. “I canna believe it, but it’s this awful rash that has people spun up.” Daisy’s bottom lip trembled. “I’ve got to go at the end of the week and get examined.”

  “But then you’ll be all right?”

  “I hope so.” She looked at her basket. “And now my quick trip to the store for pecans has lasted much longer than I planned. I best get going.”

  Stephen started realizing that he really didn’t know much about Daisy. He didn’t know who Mrs. Cartwright was, didn’t know where she lived, and didn’t know if she was the type of woman to make light of things or exaggerate them.

  He didn’t even know if she had a sweetheart or some family members around. “Who are you going to the doctor with?”

  “Mrs. Cartwright is going to take me.”

  “Who is she again?”

  “She’s my boss. I clean her haus, Stephen.”

  That didn’t seem like the right person to sit by her side. “You don’t have anyone else to help you? No one in your family lives nearby?”

  She opened her mouth, then seemed to come to a decision. “Stephen, no offense, but I’ve known you for twenty years. My best friend in the world was your wife. We live
in the same church district and I used to sit with Jean in your kitchen for hours at a time. All this time you’ve done your best to avoid me even though, for the life of me, I’ve never understood what I did to cause you so much pain. I think it’s a little too late to be givin’ you basic information about myself, don’t you?”

  Everything Daisy said was right. But that didn’t mean his interest was wrong. He did care about her; certainly because Jean had cared so much about her. But there was something about Daisy Lapp that was good, and she deserved having people around, looking after her.

  Part of him wanted to dispute her words, right there in the middle of the bulk-food aisle. But if he did that, Stephen knew he would be having that argument for himself, not her. And he had probably already been selfish enough where she was concerned.

  “I understand,” he finally said.

  His easy acquiescence seemed to take the wind out her sails. “You do?”

  “I’ll see you at church, Daisy. You take care getting home.”

  “Danke.” She gave him a hesitant smile, confusion and maybe a bit of regret illuminating her eyes.

  Stephen turned and started walking before he changed his mind and said anything else. It was only when he got to the checkout register that he realized he had neglected to put a single thing in his basket.

  An Amish teen who was standing next to him frowned at his empty basket. “Want me to help you find what you came looking in here for?” he asked.

  “Nee. I don’t think what I need is here after all,” Stephen replied, setting his basket on the counter and walking away.

  Once out the door and in the bright sunlight, he scanned the parking lot for Daisy, but didn’t see any sign of her. She was either still in the store or long gone.

  It seemed he’d been in the store for over an hour and had nothing to show for it except the stark feeling of guilt and disappointment.

  Chapter 7

  Tuesday, July 10

  Try as he might, Noah couldn’t get past the idea that there was something wrong at the Stauffer house. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he’d been in enough homes to understand when things weren’t working.

  Things definitely weren’t working right in that home.

  His problem—as far as he could tell, anyway—was that he had no idea why he cared. He didn’t know the Stauffers and wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know them.

  Though he would be lying if he didn’t admit that there was actually only one member of that household whom he did care about. For some reason, Sadie had gotten under his skin and he couldn’t stop thinking about her—not even when he napped. Last night, at the firehouse, she starred in his dreams. Over and over, he spied her in the distance and would approach. She looked as if she was trying to ask him something . . . but each time he got close enough to hear, she disappeared.

  He didn’t know what that dream meant about either her or himself. All he knew was that she’d somehow snuck into his very being.

  Now all he had to do was figure out what to do with his confusing feelings about her and her extended family. Did he want to chance visiting her again and risking her uncle’s wrath? Or should he simply step away and give the family space? They’d just lost a family member after all. It was very likely that they were still mourning her loss.

  He was stewing on that and eating an enormous breakfast after a twenty-four-hour shift when his mother knocked on his door. Letting her inside, she followed Noah into his kitchen.

  “Look at you, eating eggs and bacon like it was six in the morning instead of six at night.”

  He shrugged as he sat back down at the table. “Can’t help it. I like breakfast. It’s easy for me to make, too.”

  After curving a hand around his cheek in that way she always had, since he was a little boy, his mother pulled up a chair. “I saw you walk by the house a few minutes ago. I thought I’d catch up before you went to sleep.”

  “I’m glad you did.” He was, too. He was blessed with an easygoing mother who instinctively knew how to balance her interest in his life without intruding too much. He and Silas had talked more than once about how lucky they were to have her. So many of their friends were constantly trying to get a break from their parents. He and his siblings, on the other hand, enjoyed spending time with them.

  “So, how was your shift?”

  Thinking of the three calls, one to a nursing home, the second to a private house, and the third to a vehicle accident, he shrugged. “All right, I guess. Everyone is going to be okay.”

  “You do a lot of good work, son. Each time you go out, you help save lives. That’s something to be proud of.”

  “You always say that.”

  “If I say it often, it’s because it’s the truth.”

  She sounded so sure. So sincere, which was a gift he knew he’d never take for granted. “You never make me feel bad about the job I chose to do, Mamm. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how much I appreciate that.”

  “There’s no need for you to thank me. I know you, Noah.” She chuckled. “Besides, would ya really want me to snipe at you?”

  “Of course not. It’s just that I have a feeling that you wish I was still farming.”

  “I birthed five kinner, Noah. Silas is a carpenter, Joanna married a farmer, and Harry enjoys farming next to your daed. I figure having only one black sheep is good odds.”

  He gaped at her before he realized she was making a joke. “Mamm, I canna believe you said that. But you didn’t mention Mel.”

  “Our Melody is a little young yet.”

  “She ain’t that young, Mamm. She’s seventeen.”

  She laughed. “Funny you should mention that. Melody reminded me of that very same thing just a few hours ago.”

  “Oh? Why? What did she do?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about. Finish your supper before it gets cold.”

  “Okay, but while I’m eating, you have to fill me in on my dutiful siblings.”

  “Everyone is the same . . . except Melody.”

  “So . . . what’s going on with her?”

  His mother, still so slim and pretty in her cranberry-colored short-sleeved dress, darted a glance around his kitchen, then finally blurted, “I think she has set her sights on Ben Zook.”

  Noah relaxed immediately. “Mamm, I think our Melody was born with her sights on Ben Zook. They’ve liked each other for years.”

  Looking pained, she wrinkled her nose. “That’s what your father said.”

  “And?”

  “And Joanna might have said the same thing, too.” With a grumble, she added, “As did her Andrew.”

  “Even Joanna’s husband was aware of Melody and Ben’s relationship?”

  His mother blushed. “No need to rub it in, Noah. Obviously, I was the last to know that there was something special between Melody and Ben.”

  “Ben Zook is a good man. He’s just as smitten with our Melody as she is with him. They seem happy with each other. Melody could do far worse.”

  “Oh, I know,” she said quickly.

  Almost too quickly. “Mamm, what is bothering you? Do you know something about Ben that ain’t gut?”

  “Nee.” She shifted in her chair, gazed out toward the street. “But sometimes I think she should look around a bit. She’s only seventeen.”

  “What you’re saying makes sense,” he hedged. He didn’t want to disagree with his mother, but he also was fairly sure that no good would come out of trying to tell Melody to ignore what she was feeling. “If Melody does ever want to change her mind about Ben, she’s got plenty of time to do that.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen. She told me earlier this week that they intend to get engaged soon.”

  “Ah. What did Daed say?”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “You know your father. Anything Melody says or does is wonderful-gut. She has him wrapped around her finger.”

  Though Noah was used to talking with his mother about his younger sib
lings and offering advice, in this case, he knew he was out of his element. He’d never been in love . . . but, of course, just in that moment an image of Sadie, smiling softly at him, flashed in his head.

  What did that mean?

  “Mamm, I think it might be best if you let Melody make her choice, just like you and Daed allowed me to make mine.”

  Looking aggrieved, his mother nodded. “Your father said something very much like that just this morning.”

  He winked. “I’m thinking that means it’s gut advice.”

  “I just don’t want her to make a mistake, or years from now wish she had taken her time.”

  “You know Melody as well as I do. She is as unwavering and steady as—” he looked around, trying to come up with the appropriate comparison and settled for the oak tree next to the window where they were sitting “—as this oak here.”

  “Noah, if that tree gets hit by lightning and falls down, I’m going to be mighty upset with you.”

  “I’ll prepare myself.” He stood up, put his plate to one side, and realized that maybe God had brought his mother over not just to talk about Melody. Maybe it was so he could talk about someone he’d been wrestling about as well.

  Liking that idea, he made a decision. “Hey, Mamm?”

  Her eyes perked up. “Jah?”

  “Do you know anything about the Stauffers? They live out near Cub Run.”

  “Stauffer?” She bit her lip. Then frowned. “Isn’t that the family who just lost the mother?”

  “Uh-huh. Her name was Verba. Did you know her well?”

  “Verba Stauffer? Not really,” she murmured.

  “I thought you knew everyone.”

  His mother’s cheeks colored. “I do, but I’ve never gotten to know them.”

  “How come?”

  “I couldn’t say, not really.” She looked away and started fiddling with the stack of paper napkins on the center of the table.

  His mother was a lot of things. Shy and tentative she was not. “Mamm, you know something.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Won’t you share at least some of it? I’m not just interested in gossip. This is important.”

  She turned back to him, her light-blue eyes clouding with concern. “I heard stories, but that don’t mean anything. You know how people like to talk.”