by Marta Perry
She took a quick breath. If he thought he could dictate who she saw, he’d better think again.
“It’s Myra.” His voice roughened with emotion. “Anna, you were right about her. We must do something.”
Now Anna saw what was in his face. Fear. He was afraid for Myra.
She reached out, touching his arm. It was like iron under her fingers. His control was holding, but she had a sense that it wasn’t going to last for long.
“All right, tell me. Tell me what happened.”
He sucked in a breath. “She wanted me to put up that crib for her, so I was doing it.”
“Already?” Levi had brought the crib yesterday, but what was the hurry?
“She insisted. She started talking about the baby.” His eyes were dark with misery, and the look tugged at her heart. “Anna, I should have listened to you. I didn’t. I thought I knew better.”
“That doesn’t matter.” She shoved her own worries to the back of her mind. “Tell me what she said. She didn’t try to hurt herself, did she?”
His face went white. “No!” A shudder went through him. “You don’t think she would do that!”
“I don’t, but we have to think of every possibility.”
“There was nothing like that. She seemed happy. Too happy, I thought. And then she started talking about how the doctor was wrong. How she was going to have a perfect baby boy.”
“Ja,” Anna said, her heart sinking. “I was afraid that’s what she was thinking.”
“She’s not accepting it. I thought she was coming to see that whatever happened, it was God’s will. I thought that was why she seemed so calm now.” He sounded as miserable as Anna had ever heard him. “And all the while she was just convincing herself that it wasn’t real.”
“Samuel, you have to understand. This news is just too hard to accept, so she has to make herself believe it isn’t true.” Again Anna thought of Jannie’s pretense that everything was all right.
Samuel shoved his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “I should have seen it. I know Myra better than anyone. Why didn’t I see it?”
“You can’t blame yourself.”
She’d wanted him to understand, but she hated seeing the pain in his face, hearing the blame in his voice. Samuel would fault himself—that was inevitable. He always held himself to a higher standard than anyone else.
“If I had listened to you . . .”
“It wouldn’t have made a bit of difference as far as I can see.” She forced herself to sound brisk. “We have to get Myra to agree to see the counselor. Ja?”
Her attitude seemed to steady him. He took a deep breath, his gaze focusing on her face. “Are you sure this woman can help her?”
“I don’t know, but if she can’t, she’ll work with the doctor to find the answers for Myra. Leah knows this woman. She has every confidence in her.”
“Ja, that’s gut.” The haunted look slid off his face. Given practical steps to take, Samuel would have the strength for it.
“Did you talk to Joseph about what Myra said?”
He shook his head. “He did seem to think something was wrong with her insisting on putting up the crib right away. As for the rest, I waited for you. I thought . . . well, you were the one who saw it first. I thought you would know what to do.”
She nodded, trying to focus on how to handle the situation. “Maybe it would be best if you talked to Joseph about what Myra said to you. I’ll check on her. Then I think I should tell Leah. She might come over and speak to Myra.”
If Anna went to get Leah, she could stop and see Rosemary on the way. That sounded so selfish, but she had to deal with the pressure of her problems, too. The sooner she made arrangements about Liz calling, the better.
“That is the right plan. I’ll see what Joseph thinks. Surely, if we all show Myra how worried we are, she’ll go to see the counselor, even if she thinks she doesn’t need it for herself.”
“Ja. Myra would do anything to keep the people she loves from worrying.”
That was true, wasn’t it? Anna’s thoughts jumped back to her own worries. Not even Myra’s love and caring could help with that.
Fear rushed through her again. Pete. She had to keep Gracie safe. She realized that her fingers were digging into Samuel’s arm.
She let go quickly, pressing her hands together. She had to concentrate on the problem at hand. One thing at a time.
“This is going to be all right, Samuel. Have faith.” She started to turn away.
Samuel took both her hands in a warm, firm grip, preventing her from moving. “Something else is troubling you, Anna. Was ist letz? How can I help?”
“I . . . It is nothing.” Tears stung her eyes. She wouldn’t cry.
His hands enclosed hers, not letting go, and his intent gaze held hers. “It is not nothing, I think. You were already upset when you got home, but I was too caught up in my own worries to see it. Did something happen while you were out?”
“Not exactly.” Her lips were trembling. She clamped them together. She couldn’t break down, not now, not in front of Samuel. “It’s nothing.” She should pull her hands away from his, but she couldn’t. She found too much comfort in his grip.
He lifted her hands, holding them close against his chest. She could feel the beating of his heart.
“I know better, Anna.” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “Maybe neither of us was ready for this to happen, but it has. We are too close now for you to lie to me. Tell me what is wrong. Let me help you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I want to, but I can’t,” she whispered.
“Ja, you can. Whatever it is, I will try to understand.”
The need to speak flooded through her. “I can’t . . .”
He waited. Just waited, his hands pressing hers against his solid chest.
She choked back the tears. “You can’t help. No one can.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “It’s Gracie’s father. He’s looking for us. He wants to take her away from me.”
Samuel stood motionless as he struggled to accept and understand Anna’s words. He should respond quickly, but he couldn’t. That was not his way.
He focused on her face, seeing the mixture of torment and rebellion in her eyes. “I don’t understand. You told us the father didn’t want the baby.”
“He didn’t.” She almost spat out the words. “He couldn’t wait to sign the papers giving up his rights. She wasn’t even born yet, and he already knew he didn’t want her.”
“Then what has happened?” Samuel felt the impatience running through her, and he held her hands firmly in his, sensing that if he didn’t, she would run away. “Help me to understand.”
“How can I, when I don’t understand it myself? He didn’t contact Jannie when the baby was born. He didn’t come to Jannie’s funeral. Then he turned up a year later, suddenly deciding he wanted the baby.” The anger in her voice slid away to a tremor. “It was as if Gracie was a toy he’d forgotten about for a while and then remembered.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry.” Whatever the right or wrong of it, Anna was hurting, and Samuel longed to make that better. “What kind of man could not want his own child?”
But even as he said the words they were bitter on his tongue. His own father had been able to walk away from his children without a backward glance.
Anna turned away from him, as if he’d said the wrong thing, rubbing her hands on her arms as if she were cold. “I’m sure there are plenty of men who don’t want to be fathers. And Pete has been scrambling his brains with drugs for years. I doubt he could form a thought about what it means to be a father.”
“Poor man.”
She spun, anger flaring in her eyes. “Poor man? What about all the people he’s hurt? He doesn’t just use drugs himself. He sells them. He knocked Jannie around fo
r as long as they were together. The night he came and tried to take Gracie—” She stopped abruptly, wrapping her arms around herself.
“He tried to take her away from you?” Samuel’s blood chilled at the thought. “Anna, what happened? You weren’t hurt?”
She took an audible breath, pressing her fingers tight against her arms. “I didn’t have any warning. Just opened the door and there he was. He barged in before I could react, yelling, demanding that I produce the baby. Thank heaven she was asleep.” Her voice trembled a little on the words.
“You had no one to help you?” His heart pained him at the thought of her facing that alone.
She shook her head. “I tried to talk sense to him, reminding him that he’d signed away his rights to her, but I don’t think he even heard me. He was high on something, his eyes wild. When I wouldn’t produce Gracie, he tried to go after her. We struggled. He hit me, knocked me down.” She spread her fingers against her ribs, as if remembering the pain. “I couldn’t have stopped him.”
Samuel’s own hands clenched into fists. He couldn’t raise them against another human being, but for the first time in his life, he wanted to. Forgive me, Father.
“What happened? How did you get away?”
“The neighbors heard what was going on. They rushed in, hustled him out. They called the police.” A tremor went through her. “They said I should go in the next day and file a complaint against him, but I didn’t. I packed our things and ran.”
“You came home,” he said. That, at least, he understood, that longing to be home.
“I came home. But he’s still after us.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, turning to face him. “I was so sure he’d forget about it. Either that, or be arrested again for dealing. But Liz says—”
“Liz. That is the friend you called, that day at the hospital.”
“I talked to her then and again today.” Her breath seemed to catch, and her blue eyes grew dark. “She said he hasn’t given up. He’s questioning my friends about me. He even told her that he had a way of finding me without her help.”
“Anna, I’m sorry. If I had known . . .”
If he had, would it have changed anything between them? The longing to protect her was stronger than Samuel could have imagined possible.
“You couldn’t have done anything,” Anna said. “I have to see Rosemary. Liz will call her if anything changes.”
For a moment Samuel tried to reason away the hurt that brought. “You would trust a stranger when you won’t trust your family?” Or me. That was what he really wanted to say. “Anna, you must talk with your father about this.”
“I can’t. Don’t you see that?” She turned on him, anger bringing a flush to her cheeks. “You heard what he said that day at Barbara’s picnic. You know how fair he always is. If he thought the father wanted Gracie, what would he do?”
“Anna, listen. If your father understood all of it, if he knew everything you’ve told me, I’m sure he would stand by you.”
“And what if he didn’t? What if he said that a legal paper doesn’t make Gracie mine? I can’t risk it. I can’t tell him. Once it’s said, it can’t be unsaid.”
“But—” Samuel thought she was wrong, but her quick mind ran circles around his. He couldn’t find the argument that would convince her.
“Samuel, you can’t tell anyone.” Fear made her voice urgent. “You must promise me that you won’t tell anyone what I’ve told you.” She grabbed his arms, her grip fierce. “Promise me.”
“Ja, Anna, I promise.” Whether it was right or wrong, he could do nothing else. “I won’t tell. And I will help you.”
She let go of him, stepping back, her face changing as if she had turned into someone he didn’t know.
“Help? If Pete came and tried to take the baby, what could you do? You wouldn’t take up a weapon against him. You wouldn’t call the police.”
“Anna—”
She shook her head, eyes filling with tears. “Don’t you see? I can’t keep Gracie safe here. I should never have come home.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Anna’s throat was still tight with unshed tears from that painful scene with Samuel when she reached Leah’s house. No matter how frightened she was about Pete, Myra’s problems were more immediate.
Reason told her that chances were very small Pete could find her, even if he’d somehow learned where she came from. Amish society was one of the few places in America that was off the communication network. No search of phone records or Internet sites would tell him anything.
“Ach, Anna, it’s wonderful gut to see you.” Leah turned away from the kitchen sink, drying her hands as she hurried to embrace Anna. “I didn’t expect you to come back again today, or I wouldn’t be in the midst of doing the dishes.”
That was the flip side to Amish isolation. She hadn’t been able to call and tell Leah about the trouble. She’d had to come and hope Leah was here.
“It doesn’t matter at all,” she said quickly. The stacks of baked goods Leah had been collecting this morning must all have been delivered. With its warm wood cabinets and sparkling countertops, Leah’s kitchen looked like any English kitchen, except that the appliances ran on propane and there was a gas lamp over the pine table.
“I had to talk to you—”
Anna’s words were arrested when two-year-old Rachel came rushing across the kitchen to throw herself at Anna’s legs. “Gently, Rachel,” Leah chided.
Anna scooped the little girl up in her arms to plant a kiss on her chubby cheek.
“Gracie,” Rachel demanded, patting Anna’s face.
“Gracie couldn’t come this time. Next time, all right?”
Losing interest since her cousin wasn’t there, Rachel wiggled. “Down.”
Anna couldn’t help but chuckle as she lowered her niece to the floor. “She does know what she wants, doesn’t she?”
“She’s spoiled, that’s what, with Daniel and the older children fussing over her since the day she was born.”
Given the indulgent smile on Leah’s face, Anna thought they weren’t the only ones doing the spoiling. Rachel was the boppli Leah had never expected to have, until Daniel came to the valley.
And if Rachel was a little indulged, was that so bad? She was also greatly loved, not just by her parents but by her extended family, indeed, her whole community.
Anna’s heart clenched. If she had to leave, Gracie would never know that love.
“Sit, now, and I’ll fix some tea.” Leah waved her dish towel toward the nearest chair.
“Not now, denke.” She had to get to her reason for coming. The memory of Myra’s bright, unnerving smile pushed at her. “I have to talk to you about Myra.”
Leah’s eyes filled with concern. “What has happened?”
“She’s not adjusting at all to the situation. She’s convinced herself that the doctor is wrong. I’m afraid, when the reality finally hits, it will devastate her.”
“Ach, I was afraid of that.”
“I hoped we could get her to meet with your friend at the clinic, but I’m afraid she won’t agree.”
“Lydia Weaver. Lydia is just the person to help her. I’ve never met anyone more compassionate.” Leah’s own face shone with caring.
She tossed the dishtowel she was holding onto the rack and went to the door. “Elizabeth?” she called up the stairs.
“Ja, Mammi.” Footsteps thudded on the steps, and Leah’s stepdaughter appeared. “Aunt Anna.” She smiled. “It is gut to see you.”
“Elizabeth, I need you to watch Rachel. Aunt Anna and I must go out for a few minutes.”
Curiosity filled Elizabeth’s eyes, but she didn’t ask questions. She just nodded and went quickly to the living room where Rachel was playing.
“Now.” Leah took Anna’s hand in a firm grip. “We will go to the te
lephone shanty to make an appointment for Myra right away.”
Anna felt the burden she’d been carrying grow suddenly lighter as they hurried out to the buggy. Leah could be counted on.
She climbed up, and Leah got quickly into the seat next to her.
“The closest phone is just across the field, but we can go by the lane.” Leah pointed out the route. “Daniel had the phone shanty put in after little Rachel arrived so soon and Rachel Brand had to deliver her.”
“I’m sorry.” Anna’s words came without planning. “I wish I’d been here.”
“I know.” Leah clasped her hand.
“If I hadn’t stopped writing, it wouldn’t have been so hard for you to find me.”
“When you left, you promised you’d stay in touch.” Leah said the words slowly, as if they were heavy. “Why, Anna? Why didn’t you?”
Tears blinded her eyes. “I thought it would all be easy.” She looked back in wonderment at the foolish girl she’d been. “When it wasn’t, when it was a struggle just to survive, I felt I couldn’t tell you that. And I couldn’t lie, so I just stopped writing.”
Leah clasped her hand firmly for a moment. “You can tell me anything.”
Anything? Pain struck Anna’s heart.
She’d thought that once she told Samuel about the troubles with Pete, she’d be free of the compulsion to tell someone, but instead the need was even stronger. She longed to spill out the whole story to Leah. Leah, more familiar with the world than most Amish through her work at the clinic, would probably understand.
But what if she told Daadi, and what if he thought Pete should be given a chance? How could she risk it?
She couldn’t. Anna wiped away a tear with the back of her hand and saw that tears filled Leah’s eyes, too. “Look at us, riding along and crying. What would people think if they saw us?
“They might think it is gut that I have my sister back,” Leah said.
Anna’s heart clenched, and again she felt the pressure to tell Leah. But she couldn’t.
“What if Myra refuses to go?” She asked it abruptly, because it seemed easier to focus on that.
