At Home in Pleasant Valley

by Marta Perry

  There wasn’t anything Johnny could do. There wasn’t anything anyone could do, but Leah couldn’t resist the concern in his face. Avoiding his hand, she rose and walked down the hallway with him.

  A couple of rocking chairs had been added to the back porch furniture. She sat down, pleating her skirt with her fingers.

  “So tell me.” Johnny sat down opposite, reaching out to still the nervous movement of her hand. “It must be something bad for you to look that way.”

  “It’s Anna.” It was a relief just to say the words. “I’m worried about Anna.”

  “What has Anna been up to that causes you this much distress?” His voice, warm and gentle, was the voice of her friend, of the person she’d known and cared about her whole life. “Running around too much with her friends? Trying to land you with her chores?”

  That coaxed a reluctant smile from her, but almost immediately it trembled from her lips. “If only it were that.” She shook her head. “I know I can’t expect her to have so tame a rumspringa as I did . . .”

  He patted her hand. “No, I’m sure not.” There was amusement in the tone.

  She pulled her hand away, straightening. “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.” She looked at him, her eyes welling with tears. “Johnny, she came home so drunk that she was within inches of wrecking the buggy. Only the grace of God kept her from injury.”

  She was relieved to see that her words wiped the amusement from his face.

  “I’m sorry, Leah. She wasn’t hurt, though?”

  “No. Oh, I suppose my brothers probably did as bad, but this is my baby sister.”

  “You’ve tried to talk to her?”

  She felt the flood of sympathy, and it warmed her. “Tried and tried again. Daad has talked to her, too, with no results either. I’m afraid she’s—”

  She stopped, unable to put her fear into words.

  “What?” His voice was gently insistent. “What do you think is going to happen to her?”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to force the words out. “I think she might leave.”

  He didn’t immediately respond, giving her time to think that maybe Johnny wasn’t the best person to talk to about this. After all, that was just what he’d done.

  “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I know how scared that must make you.”

  “It does.” The tightness in her throat eased just a little. “I don’t begrudge her running-around time. I even understand it. And she’s the baby, so maybe she’s had her own way a little too much. But this—”

  She stopped, shook her head. “I’m sorry. This is probably hard for you to talk about. I shouldn’t burden you with it.”

  “You’re not.” He smiled slightly. “We’re friends. Old friends, no matter what else happened. You can say anything to me, and I promise it won’t go any further. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I don’t.” She managed to return the smile. “I know I can trust you.” Johnny wouldn’t talk. And he wouldn’t condemn, either.

  “You’ve been keeping this to yourself. That only increases the worry.” He shook his head. “Leah, you’re always trying to take care of everyone. Look, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

  “I could lose her.” She looked at him steadily. The way Rachel lost you. The way I lost you. She wouldn’t say it, but he must know she was thinking it.

  “If she left . . .” He paused. “Maybe I’m not completely impartial, Leah. But would it be such a terrible thing? You could still have a relationship with her. Maybe that’s what she needs to do.”

  “No!” She rejected that with every fiber of her being. “Anna is too young. She’s rebellious, and she doesn’t really understand what it would be like. Or what she’d be giving up.”

  He leaned back in the rocker, his gaze intent on her face. “Maybe so. But sometimes, for some people, it’s the right thing to do.”

  “No. Not Anna.” She had to cling to that, because the alternative was too frightening.

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Anna is too young, or thinking about it for the wrong reasons. But you’re not too young, Leah. Is it possible you’re so worried about Anna because you’re thinking about it, too?”

  She jerked back as if he’d hit her. “No. I’m not.”

  He brushed that aside with his hand. “Well, maybe you should be.”

  She started to rise. She didn’t want to hear this, and all the comfort she’d felt from Johnny was gone in an instant.

  He grabbed her hand. “Wait. Just let me say this one thing. Can’t you do that?”

  She sat, perched on the edge of the chair, ready to flee. “Go on.”

  “You’re a good teacher, Leah.” He leaned toward her, hands braced on his knees. “I know that. But think how much more you could do if you were able to develop your teaching gifts to the fullest. You could get a degree, you could learn all the latest methods, you could—”

  She stood, shaking her head. “No. Don’t. You have no right to say that to me, John.”

  “Why not?” He stood, too, and passion filled his voice. “I’m the person you said you loved once. Doesn’t that give me a right to be concerned about you?”

  Still shaking her head, she hurried to the door. “That was a lifetime ago.”

  “It’s still true.” His voice roughened. “Leah, let yourself think about it. Don’t you fear that you aren’t preparing your scholars for the world they have to live in? Haven’t you thought that maybe the right place for you isn’t here?”

  She couldn’t listen. She hurried through the hallway, out the front door, and down the steps to the parking lot where her driver was waiting.

  But she couldn’t outrun his words. They echoed in her heart, and she knew what she was afraid of. She was afraid they were true.

  • • •

  He’d been on the verge of proposing marriage to Leah. Daniel frowned down at the road disappearing under the wheels of his buggy. The night that he’d taken Anna home, those quiet moments in the kitchen together . . .

  Leah had been the one to draw back. He could only be grateful for that. He’d known, in the clear light of day, that he’d almost acted on impulse, something he’d vowed never to do.

  He should have been able to think the situation through and come to a sensible conclusion. That was the only way to approach marrying again. Practical. Logical. Make a decision on what would be best for himself and his children.

  Unfortunately, every time he tried to do that, the memory of Leah’s caring face, her vulnerable eyes, got in the way.

  There was the lane leading to the schoolhouse, and sure enough, Leah’s buggy stood at the hitching post. He’d stopped by the Beiler farm, and Barbara had been delighted to tell him that Leah had gone to the school to do some work on her teaching materials. Barbara had obviously hoped there was a romantic reason for his visit.

  Romantic wasn’t the word he’d have picked, he guessed. He had to talk to Leah, had to make a decision, one way or the other.

  And then, of course, she’d have her say. He smiled ruefully as he stopped at the hitching post and climbed down. Maybe he was kidding himself even to think that her answer would be yes.

  He went quickly to the open door and hesitated on the threshold. Without the children, the schoolroom was a little forlorn, as if it waited for their return.

  Chiding himself for his fanciful thoughts, he stepped inside. Leah stood at her desk, a stack of books in front of her, watching him.

  “Daniel. What brings you here?” She brushed a strand of hair back from her face and came around the desk toward him.

  “I wanted to ask how things are going with Anna.” He went toward her and rested his hand on the corner of the desk. “Each time I’ve seen you since then, there have been so many other people around that I didn’t want to bring it up.”
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  “I’m grateful for your silence. I told Anna she should be, too. There are others who’d have been hard put to hold their tongues if they’d found her that night.”

  “Judging by the cold shoulder she’s given me each time I’ve seen her, I don’t guess she feels very grateful about it.”

  “No. But she should.” Leah’s eyes darkened with worry, making her look vulnerable. “I don’t understand her anymore. I never thought I would say that.”

  “Is she not sorry for what she did, then?” He’d think the embarrassment alone would be enough to bring the child to her senses.

  “If she is, she’s doing a fine job of hiding it.” She smoothed the errant strand of hair back again. “All she seems to think about is going out with her friends.”

  “English friends.” He filled in the word.

  “I suppose so. She doesn’t confide in me.” A spasm of pain crossed her face as she said the words.

  It made him want to put his arms around her, comfort her, tell her everything would be all right. But he couldn’t. Because he didn’t have the right, and because he couldn’t be sure it would. He barely knew Anna, but he feared for her.

  Leah sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have poured all that out to you. It’s not your burden. It’s ours.”

  True enough. But if he did ask her to marry him, Anna would become his problem, too. And there was something—something he felt driven to say, even if it made Leah angry.

  “I’m sorry for your troubles. I wish I could be of more help.”

  She managed a smile, but the life seemed to have gone out of it. “You’ve already helped more than you know.”

  “If I have, I’m glad of it,” he said. He hesitated. “There’s something that’s been on my mind since that night. And I don’t know what to do except just to say it.”

  Her eyes grew wary. “I don’t think—”

  He shook his head, knowing he had to blurt the words out before he could change his mind. “Are you sure your work at the clinic isn’t setting the wrong example for Anna?”

  Leah’s eyes widened with shock and pain, and the look cut him to the heart. But it had to be said, didn’t it?

  “I don’t want to hurt you. But isn’t it possible that she sees you spending time with the English, working with them, and thinks it’s all right?”

  “That’s completely different!” Leah had recovered, and now it was anger that flashed in her green eyes. “I volunteer at the clinic because I want to help the children, and for no other reason.”

  “You didn’t go there until John Kile came back.” It couldn’t be jealousy he felt when he said the fence-jumper’s name.

  “I didn’t know that there was anything I could do until John told me about it.” She threw the words back at him.

  “You’re there often, working with those people.” He pushed doggedly on, even knowing he was antagonizing her with every word. “Maybe you’ve started enjoying it.”

  “And maybe you’re talking about Ruth, not me.” She looked shocked that the words had come out of her mouth.

  No more shocked than he felt. For a moment he could only gape at her.

  But he owed her an honest answer. “I guess what happened between me and Ruth affects how I look at it. But can you be sure I’m not right?”

  She hesitated, her hands straining against each other. She took a deep breath. “I’d like to say that it’s not your concern.”

  “That wouldn’t be true, would it?” He took her tense hands in his. “We both know we’ve been moving toward something, Leah, even if no words have been spoken.”

  She stared down at their clasped hands for a moment. “You’re saying that my work at the clinic is a barrier between us.”

  “I guess I am.” He didn’t want to draw a line between them, but what else could he say? No one could go through what he’d been through and come out unchanged.

  She drew her hands away slowly. Her shoulders straightened. “I don’t think I can be the woman you want, Daniel.”

  Her words, her voice, her expression all told him that that was an end to it.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When she saw the headlights coming down the dark lane to the farmhouse, Leah knew deep in her soul that something bad had happened to Anna. Maybe it was that instinct, stronger than words, which had kept her awake this night.

  Pulling her shawl tight around her, she pressed her face to the living room window. The lights belonged to a police car. She could make it out now, see the dome on its roof and the reflective letters on the side.

  Her heart thundering in her ears, she ran toward the door that led out to the daadi haus, but before she could reach it, Daad was already there, pulling suspenders over his shoulders. His face was bleak.

  “Anna,” he said.

  “She’s not home.” Leah’s voice broke, and she clutched his arm. “She’s not here. It must be—”

  “Ja.” His face tightened until the skin seemed stretched over the bones. “You should go and stay with your mamm.”

  Before Leah could move, her mother came in, clad like Leah in a nightgown and holding a shawl tightly around her, as if it would protect her from whatever was coming toward them.

  “No need,” she said. “I’m here.”

  Daadi patted her shoulder. “Go back, now. Let Leah stay with you until we know what is wrong.”

  She shook her head, her graying braids swinging. “I must hear it, Elias. She is my baby.”

  Footsteps echoed on the porch, heavy and authoritative. The knock on the door hammered against Leah’s heart.

  Mamm clung to Daad now, so Leah went to open it. The tall state trooper was young—young enough to look embarrassed at the sight of her in her nightgown.

  “Is this the home of Anna Beiler?”

  She stepped back, opening the door wide and gesturing for him to enter. “Yes.” She struggled to catch her breath. “I am Leah Beiler, her sister. Our parents, Elias and Martha Beiler.” She clutched her hands together, framing a wordless prayer. “Anna—how bad is it?”

  He frowned, looking as if he were trying to remember whatever he’d learned about how to break bad news. “There’s been an accident out on the Fisherdale Road—a car and a buggy. Anna—”

  He stopped as Levi thudded down the stairs, followed by Barbara, voluminous in her nightgown. Mahlon came last, stumbling and rubbing his eyes.

  “Was ist letz?” Levi said, face white. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Anna.” Leah was astonished that the words came out so calmly. “An accident.”

  “How bad?” Mahlon clutched the railing, looking young and scared.

  She turned back to the officer.

  “Anna Beiler was injured,” he said stiffly. “And three other people were hurt, too. They’ve all been taken to the county hospital. I have instructions to drive you people there.”

  “How bad is she hurt?” she said again. Please, Lord, please don’t take our Anna away.

  His official mask slipped a little, and she saw the conscientious young man beneath it. “I don’t know, ma’am. Honestly. They didn’t tell me that. Just to break the news and drive you.” He glanced at her nightgown and then away. “I’ll wait while you folks dress and take you in.”

  “Ja. We all go,” Levi began, but Daadi shook his head at the words.

  “No, no. Leah will go with us, to talk to the doctors. She’ll understand better how to deal with them. Mahlon, you must hurry to tell Joseph, so they don’t hear from someone else. And Levi, you fetch Bishop Mose and ask him to come to the hospital.”

  Mahlon looked as if he’d argue for a moment, but then he nodded. He ran upstairs.

  “I’ll dress and then help Mamm—” Leah began.

  “I’ll do that,” Barbara said quickly. She gave her a gentle push. “
You just get ready.”

  Nodding, Leah ran for the stairs, her mind spinning more rapidly than she could believe. She tried to grab on to something reassuring.

  Injured. Anna was injured. It might not be serious—maybe nothing more than a broken bone.

  And the others who were hurt—three, the policeman had said. What other families were getting a visit like this one right now?

  Praying, the words tumbling over one another in her haste, Leah pulled her clothes on, fumbling with the straight pins that secured her dress.

  Hurry, hurry. The words echoed to the thud of her heart. Hurry.

  In moments she was racing back down the stairs again. Mahlon and Levi had already hustled out the back toward the stable. Better, as Daad said, to send them off to tell folks—better that than have them all tripping over each other at the hospital, waiting, not knowing . . .

  Barbara came in with Mamm, and together they walked her out to the waiting police car. Barbara urged Mamm into the middle of the backseat, so that she’d have Daad on one side and Leah on the other.

  Leah shot her a look of thanks. Barbara had her faults, maybe, as they all did, but she was steady and calm in a crisis.

  The doors slammed, and the car pulled out. Mamm’s hand closed tightly over Leah’s. She wrapped it warmly in hers, wanting to say something encouraging, unable to think of anything.

  All she could think of was Anna—of all that bright, eager life tumbled into a ditch someplace in the wreckage of her buggy.

  Leah glanced toward the front of the police car. The dim lights on the dashboard showed her the young policeman’s profile, his hands on the wheel.

  “Do you know anything else about the accident? Were you there?”

  “No, ma’am, I wasn’t. All they told me was what I’ve told you.” They reached the road, and the vehicle seemed to spring forward. “We’ll be at the hospital in a few minutes, ma’am. The investigating officers will be there. They’ll be able to answer your questions.”

  The car passed the turnoff to the Glick farm, and she could see that the house was dark and still. Daniel would be a tower of strength at a time like this. But Daniel wasn’t there. Wouldn’t be there.