Davey's Daughter

by Linda Byler

  She could hardly believe her eyes when Ashley Walters walked directly up to her, the only thing between them the clear Plexiglass that separated the customers from the employees.

  “Sarah?”

  The word was a question, a frightened, whispered question that hung between them, a butterfly swishing its dainty wings against the glass.

  “Ashley!”

  “Can we talk?”

  “At ten o’clock.”

  “It has to be now.”

  “Now? Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  Looking around, Sarah asked Emma if it was alright if she went on her break early as someone needed to talk to her.

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “Thanks.”

  Quickly, Sarah grabbed her purse, asking Ashley where she wanted to go.

  They sat on a bench near the front entrance, the throng of people coming and going providing a wall of privacy, a detraction, which was just what they needed to blend in as part of the life of the market, seen but not really noticed.

  If anything, Ashley had only become thinner, her pale cheeks almost translucent, the blue veins in her forehead more noticeable than ever. Sarah looked closer, then drew back in surprise when she realized Ashley’s lower lip was split open and partially healed. Her eyes were puffy, her skin blotchy.

  As usual, she wore an oversized sweatshirt, torn jeans, and sneakers—curled, creased, and filthy.

  When she spoke, her words were slurred. Sarah caught a strong smell of alcohol on her breath.

  “Sarah, I have no one else. I’m in trouble. I don’t have the nerve to get away from Mike, and I can’t tell my dad. He’d kill me.

  “There’s a lot going on. There’s a lot of weird stuff going on. Mike is my, well, sort of boyfriend. Sometimes boyfriend. But he, well, he’s getting worse. He has a problem. I’m afraid for my life now, sort of. Not really, but just, like, sort of. I have to hide so Mike can’t find me. If I go to someone Amish, I bet he’d never imagine I was there.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “My dad hates me. My mom is in California now. They aren’t together anymore.”

  “Your dad doesn’t hate you.”

  “He will if he finds out about Mike.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to say, Ashley. I’d have to talk it over with my parents. I don’t know how wise it would be to hide you. Are you in trouble with the law, or is Mike? Should we call the authorities? The police?”

  “I have nowhere to go!” Ashley’s voice rose into a shriek of hysteria before she clapped both hands over her mouth and rocked forward, her thin hair falling stiffly forward as if to hide her somehow.

  Passersby eyed her curiously. If they sat here and Ashley continued her theatrics, they would draw too much attention. Sarah got up and turned to tell Ashley to come with her, but she was knocked off balance by Ashley lunging against her, her thin hands grabbing at Sarah’s bib apron, her mouth open, mewling like a lost, starving kitten, grotesque, yet so completely pitiful.

  “You can’t leave me here!”

  “I won’t, Ashley. I’ll leave a message for my mother to call me. We’ll decide something, okay? Just find a place here in the market and stay there, until I can tell you what my parents say.”

  “I’ll stay in a booth at the restaurant.”

  “Alright. Just stay there, till I find you.”

  Ashley’s whole body was shaking now, her lip swollen and purple, her fingers restlessly stretching the wristband on her sweatshirt as she searched Sarah’s face.

  “Can I borrow a couple dollars to get something to eat?”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Could Sarah trust Ashley to be truthful? She had no idea what was going on in her life, and perhaps they’d all be getting into something far worse than they’d anticipated.

  Mam answered the message on her voice mail dutifully, the way she always did, walking to the phone shanty a few times a day to see if anyone had called.

  Sarah explained the situation as best she could, interrupted only by Mam’s sympathetic clucks or words of warning, placed aptly, an attempt at caution.

  In the end, Mam relented, saying she’d speak to Dat, but certainly, there was no way Sarah could leave the poor, frightened Ashley at the unoccupied market later that evening.

  Ashley greeted Sarah’s acceptance with a nod of her head, eyes averted, bringing a storm of doubt with it. Was she doing the right thing?

  A small duffel bag was the only thing Ashley carried with her as she climbed into the market van with her head lowered, her eyes downcast, a whipped animal, afraid of more punishment.

  She slunk into the far corner on the back seat, slouched down as far as she could, as if to obliterate herself completely. Then she turned her face to the window and closed her eyes, shutting out Sarah and the world around her.

  The usual, noisy banter wasn’t completely stilled, but a respectful air permeated the interior of the van, as if the girls knew their loud joking, their fun and laughter, might hurt this sad, thin girl with the stringy, unkempt hair.

  When they arrived at the farm, Ashley sat up, her eyes wide with fright, her head turning from left to right, the reality of her situation clearly upsetting.

  “Sarah?” Her white hand groped for Sarah’s sleeve, found it, plucked at it.

  “You sure this is okay?”

  “Of course. Come on.”

  Ashley followed her, apologizing in hurried whispers as she squeezed past the market girls’ knees. There was a loud cracking of plastic breaking and a shriek from Sarah, followed by a wail of denial as she stepped down from the van and surveyed a broken plastic container with a thoroughly ruined lemon meringue pie squeezing between the cracks.

  “Oh my word! Whose pie?”

  “Mine! Did you step on my pie, Sarah?”

  Annie, the biggest girl in the bunch, eyed Sarah with a very real sense of loss. Sarah tried unsuccessfully to hold back her laughter, but the occupants of the van heard the spluttering from her and joined in, until everyone was laughing with her.

  Still chuckling as the van sped away, the two girls walked to the house, the welcoming yellow light in the windows as homey as ever.

  “I’m home!” Sarah called.

  Mam was at the sink washing supper dishes, but she turned, wiping the suds from her hands with a corner of her apron, a smile of welcome on her kind face.

  Mam’s eyes changed from the glad welcome she produced so naturally to one of shock, but she regained her composure just as quickly. She held out a hand warm from the dishwater and said, “Hello, Ashley.”

  Ashley allowed Mam a wild glance before ducking her head, her hair covering most of her face, the way it often did.

  “I hope you can make yourself at home here. I have the guest room ready for you, and there’s a bathroom you can share with the girls. Your supper is in the oven.”

  Turning, Mam bent to retrieve an oblong casserole and set it on the table, sliding a heavy potholder underneath.

  She filled two glasses with mint tea, adding plenty of ice from the freezer, and set out a Tupperware container of applesauce and one of bread and butter pickles.

  Sarah took a long drink of her tea, sighed, and lifted the lid of the casserole.

  Levi appeared at the doorway, clearing his throat and gesturing at Ashley, who sat, terrified, unable to lift her glass or attempt conversation.

  Wow. This is going to be rough, Sarah thought.

  “Hey, Levi! How’s it going?”

  In answer, Levi drew his eyebrows down and told Sarah in perfect Pennsylvania Dutch that she could stop being so gros-feelich (proud) right now, that just because she had an English friend didn’t mean she had to talk like Melvin.

  Mam put at hand on his shoulder, sat him in a kitchen chair, and introduced him to Ashley, who barely acknowledged his presence. She merely nodded her head, her eyes trained steadily on the silverware beside her empty plate.

  Levi, however, was
delighted by the fact that they had English company, so he leaned forward, smiled, his beady brown eyes as observant as always, and bellowed, “Hi, Ashley. I’m Levi!”

  Ashley cast him a wild-eyed look and nodded miserably before turning her face away.

  “Sees shemmt sich, Mam (She’s ashamed)!”

  Mam held up one finger against her mouth and motioned Levi to hush, which was completely lost on him. He leaned forward, his ample stomach shoving against the table, turned his head, and told Ashley in broken English that his name was Levi Beiler and he was her friend, and he hoped she knew how to play Memory.

  Ashley glanced wildly at Sarah, who nodded, smiled, put a hand on her arm, and said Levi would be a good friend, and yes, he was a champion Memory player.

  That brought a small smile of recognition from Ashley, but she still refused to eat, her fingers twisting restlessly in her lap.

  “Can I give you some baked spaghetti?” Mam asked politely.

  Ashley shook her head.

  “No?”

  “I…don’t feel very good. May I…Do you mind if I go to my room?” she said, her voice low and rough, as if it hadn’t been put to use for a long time.

  “Certainly. I just thought you might want to meet David, my husband, Sarah’s father, and her two sisters, Priscilla and Suzie,” Mam said hopefully.

  “Okay. If I don’t have to eat.”

  “You don’t. Maybe you don’t like our supper. Can I get you something else?”

  Ashley shook her head, a pinched look about her nose, before looking around desperately and asking forcefully, “Is there a restroom?”

  Sarah jumped up, guiding her to the downstairs bathroom, then stopped on her return to the kitchen table as she listened the sound of Ashley being violently sick in the safety of the bathroom.

  Sarah shook her head at Mam’s questioning eyes, then slid heavily into her chair, her shoulders bent with weariness.

  “Sees grunk (She’s sick)!” Levi announced.

  “Shh!”

  “Sees an cutza (She’s throwing up).”

  “Levi!”

  Getting laboriously to his feet, he shuffled to the medicine cabinet in his room, returned with a large bottle of colorful Tums, and waited patiently by the bathroom door until it opened hesitantly. A still terrified Ashley slid out between the door and the frame, as if she was too frightened to open it more than a few inches.

  “Ashley! Here!”

  Levi handed her the peace offering, his face shining eagerly in the light of the gas lamp, his small brown eyes as innocent as a child’s and as eager to please.

  Ashley stopped, turned her head, and looked at Levi with only a fraction of her guard down, but a small crack appeared in her wall of reserve. She reached out, and Levi placed the Tums in her hand triumphantly.

  “Take two,” he said, with an air of superiority.

  “I will,” Ashley said, very low and quiet.

  She picked up her duffel bag and questioned Sarah with her wide, startled eyes.

  “I’ll show you,” Sarah said quickly and led the way up the stairs as Levi sat down at the kitchen table and began the long process of presenting his case for a plateful of baked spaghetti, which would be his third for the evening.

  When Dat, Priscilla, and Suzie came in from doing the evening chores, there was quite a flurry as everyone tried to tell them about Ashley at once. The din of the conversation prevented anyone from noticing someone at the front door, knocking, then knocking again, before opening the door and saying, “Hey.”

  Only Dat heard the greeting, turned, and said, “Vell (Well)!”

  Surprised, the family’s conversation ended, and they turned in respectful silence as three members of their community stepped inside, their faces grave and solemn. For one heartstopping moment, Sarah thought they had come bearing tragic news, a death, another barn fire, until she remembered that kind of news was usually spread through the phone lines.

  She never once gave it a thought that they were all members the school board. She picked at the cold spaghetti on her plate, twirled her fork around and around, and ate a few pickles as she thought about Ashley being sick on her first evening with the family. She wondered what actually possessed the poor girl and chuckled to herself about how Levi had immediately taken her under his wing, like a sick kitten or a lame bird.

  That Levi was a character, he surely was.

  When Jonas King said loudly that their school needed help, Sarah’s fork stopped, the spaghetti slid off, and a wave of shock zipped from her head to her stomach. The school board! It was October, and the school board was here?

  She leaned back against the kitchen chair, her breath creating a small puffing sound as it left her body.

  “So, we didn’t know if Sarah would consider taking on the school or not.”

  She heard the words through the rapid pulse in her ears, but it was followed by a high-pitched ringing that blocked out Dat’s answer.

  Then they all turned to look at her, their eyes kind and curious, their straw hats held politely in their hands. Their hair stuck to their foreheads, the way Amish men’s hair always does after their hats are removed.

  Vaguely, she saw Mam’s wide eyes, Priscilla’s downcast ones, Dat’s questioning.

  “Sarah?” he asked.

  She focused on the kind eyes of her father, a shyness overtaking her, the reality of these men’s visit too much to fathom.

  Jonas broke into the silence.

  “We have a real mess. I simply don’t know how else to put it. Disrespect, disobedience, pupils simply refusing to cooperate. Mothers, parents, are taking the children’s sides. I won’t blame you if you refuse to help us out, but we all agree, perhaps you can. We did hear about driving off the…the…those who came into Lydia Esh’s barn, and we thought maybe if you could do that, you could handle a roomful of problem pupils.”

  Sarah smiled shyly and picked at the tablecloth where the hem was wearing thin, leaving strands for her to pull. She didn’t want to remember that night, especially not now with Ashley upstairs, so frightened of being here, her future in jeopardy.

  “I…have a job,” she said, facing the men now, able to warm up to them, inspired by the praise, which was not given easily, she knew.

  “You go to market?’

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there are market girls all over Lancaster County, but not everyone can teach a school, especially not this one,” Abner Esh broke in, his rotund little form shifting from one foot to the other.

  Mam asked the men to be seated. The table was cleared discreetly, Priscilla dutifully washed dishes, and Levi listened respectfully as talk swirled across the table, the problems, the solutions, the task at hand a monumental one by all accounts.

  Mam served coffee and a platter of pecan bars. Sarah asked them if it was alright if she took a week to think it over. She would have to let her boss have at least a week or two to find a replacement.

  “So you are considering?” Abner Esh asked.

  “Yes.”

  It was a long time before Sarah fell asleep that night. The events of the day crowded out any relaxation as her mind picked up and examined first one obstacle and then another, discarding one solution and then the next until she became quite weary of it.

  Ashley was the first problem. She couldn’t just hide out here with Mam, spending her days in idleness, worrying Mam. She would have to find a job somewhere, but not in the immediate area. She had no money and no vehicle, and she was clearly more troubled than even Sarah knew.

  They would let the teacher go. Fire her. Sarah knew her well. Martha Riehl. She was in the same youth group as Sarah, although not in her intimate group of friends.

  She was pretty, dark-haired, very outgoing. What would she say?

  They’d remove her from her teaching spot—no doubt she loved her job—and she’d be replaced by Sarah. She’d be angry, feel betrayed. And just how severe were the discipline problems?

  Sarah sighed as t
he short hand on her alarm clock slowly crept past the twelve, and she was expected to go to market again in the morning. Would it be her last week there? She got out of bed to pull the shades down over the windows, the brilliant moonlight annoying now as she tossed restlessly in her bed.

  She reached for the bottom of the shade and was just about to pull it down, when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a slight movement, a weak light, in the barnyard beside the silo.

  She stopped, straining her eyes as her heartbeat accelerated. It wasn’t dark at all. In fact, everything was awash in a silvery light, illuminating the dark shapes of the cows lying in the barnyard and the pasture beyond.

  There! The light was not nearly bright enough to be a flashlight. It was more like a penlight.

  Watching closely, Sarah grasped the window frame, her breath coming in short, ragged puffs.

  There was no wind, only the silence of the night and the beauty of the silver moon shining steadily from a cloudless night sky speckled liberally with twinkling stars.

  Her eyes picked up the weak, yellowish light. It couldn’t be a penlight. They had more of a bluish white light produced by LED bulbs, those new ones that used only a fraction of the energy that regular bulbs consumed. What was going on?

  Suddenly a thought entered her mind. The cows weren’t afraid at all. They lay contentedly, and not one got up or milled around. There was no bawling or any other sign of fright. Whatever or whoever it was, the cows were accepting it.

  A dark form bent over a cow and slapped it. Dat!

  The cow lunged slowly to her feet, followed by the unsteady little form of a newborn calf, wobbling along in the moonlight, aided by her father’s caring hand along its back.

  Dat would put the cow in a warm stall with clean straw, protecting the newborn calf from the frost of the night, which was sure to cover the fields and woods before morning.

  Satisfied that the weak light was Dat’s ailing old flashlight, Sarah left her vigil by the window and fell gratefully to bed, the pulled shades sufficiently darkening her room, enabling her to close her weary eyes and finally fall asleep.

  It seemed like only an hour had passed when her alarm began its delirious music, much too loud and way too annoying. She was going to get rid of that obnoxious thing as soon as she could purchase another.