Disappearances

by Linda Byler

  Sadie nodded happily. There were no brown or black ones for Dorothy. She was undecided between bright pink or lime green, then settled for a furious shade of purple.

  “Next time I’ll get the lime green.”

  When she opened her wallet to hand over a crisp 20 and a 10, she pursed her lips, but told Sadie quietly that wasn’t so dear if you counted the comfort. And when they drove steadily past the Dollar General without stopping, Dorothy shook her head with great sadness and wisdom.

  “See, that’s what the world’s coming to. You pay for a cheap product, that’s what you get. And you know what else I thought about? They sell them Dr. Scholl’s corn adhesives right beside them shoes. They know whoever buys them shoes will return for corn thingys.”

  She arrived at the ranch the following morning, no limp in sight, her purple Crocs flashing with each step. Erma asked what happened to her limp. Dorothy said she went to the chiropractor, winking broadly at Sadie behind Erma’s back. Dorothy’s gait was new and refreshing, rocking slightly from side to side, the shape of her Crocs making her appear so much more like a lovable little duck.

  There was no phone call, no warning, not even a letter. Just the sound of an aging motor driving an old Jeep up the driveway, making its way steadily through the deep snow. And then, nothing. The rusting Jeep just sat at the end of the walkway. No doors opened, no lights blinked or horn blared.

  Mark went to the washhouse, slipped into his boots, and shrugged his coat on quickly before making his way down the walks. Sadie watched behind the half-drawn curtains as he bent his tall form to peer through the window. The interior light was too dim for Sadie to see who the person was, so when the washhouse door slammed shut and she heard Mark speaking to someone, she immediately put down the book she was reading and watched the door to the kitchen. It was Timothy.

  “Here’s Tim!” Mark announced.

  Tim stood just inside the door beside the refrigerator, a timid smile playing across his features. Sadie closed the space between them, hoping he would extend a hand, but there was no move to do anything at all. Definitely no hug. Not a handshake.

  “Hey.”

  That was all. That noncommittal “Hey.”

  “Hello, Tim.”

  She bit off the last part of his name just in time and sighed with relief, watching his face, the way he sagged at the hips, a certain lowering of himself as if to convey his feelings of inadequacy. Well, here he was. All six feet of complexity. The challenge was staggering.

  Too cheerily, Mark asked, “So? What’s up? You here for a visit? Are you here to stay? Did you drive that Jeep the whole way?”

  Tim actually smiled, revealing all the crowded decaying teeth, then quickly put up a hand, painfully aware of his teeth.

  He said, “I’m just here. Work’s slow. Thought I’d come check out where you guys live.”

  Sadie nodded, smiled.“Kannsht doo Amish schwetsa?” (Can you speak Dutch?)

  Tim smiled only with his eyes, his hand going up to cover his mouth. “Ya, ich kann.” (Yes I can.)

  “Alles?” (Everything?)

  Again, a smile with his eyes, a nod.

  So the conversation switched easily to the Dutch language. Sadie put on the coffeepot, then brought out the square Tupperware container of molasses cookies.

  “Did you have supper?” she asked.

  He shook his head, swallowed as he eyed the molasses cookies. He was obviously very hungry.

  Quickly Sadie moved from the stove to the refrigerator and back again, heating the leftover chili from their evening meal. She placed a few squares of cornbread on the stoneware plate, put aluminum foil over it, and turned the oven on. She brought out some saltines, applesauce, and slices of dill pickles, arranging them on the table with a glass of cold water. Conversation lagged as he lowered his head and ate ravenously, refilling his bowl, crumbling more saltines, spreading the cornbread liberally with soft butter.

  “Didn’t have time to stop to get something to eat,” he murmured.

  Sadie knew he had more than likely been penniless, unable to pay for even a single meal. She said nothing, just shook her head with understanding. All they really got out of him that first evening was that he’d be there for awhile, check out the land, see if he liked the people.

  “You mean, the Amish or the English?” Mark asked.

  The question caught him by surprise, so he gave no real answer. After eating almost everything on the table, he could not stay awake after driving so many hours. Mark showed him to the guest room, the upstairs bathroom that was almost finished except for the trim work, and helped him adjust the wick on the kerosene lamp, providing a lighter for him.

  “Don’t need a lighter. I have one.”

  “If you smoke, Tim, we expect you to quit if you want to stay with us, okay?”

  Mark said it quietly but firmly. Tim nodded but said nothing.

  Sadie was cleaning up the few dishes when Mark came back down, a light in his eyes.

  “Well, Sadie, my love, he’s here! Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this?”

  Sadie stopped rinsing the chili bowl and said quietly, “I am, Mark. I may not always be, but, yes, I’m willing to give it a try.”

  “We may be in for the roughest ride of our life.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. This young man is … well, this will take a lot of effort, a lot of wisdom, and whatever else we can scratch together to help him straighten out his life.”

  Sadie nodded soberly.

  Since they both had to leave for work the following morning, Sadie left a note and hoped they could trust him with Wolf and the horses.

  When Jim’s pickup bounced up the drive in the evening, the Jeep was gone, and Sadie raced into the house, becoming breathless in the process, looking for Tim, calling his name, but he was nowhere to be found.

  They were deeply disappointed, eating their evening meal in near silence, wondering why he had stayed, only to leave again. There was not a trace, no clothes, no duffel bag, the bed made neatly, the quilt tucked beneath the pillows as if Sadie had made the bed herself.

  Mark sighed, then told Sadie what he had said about his smoking. “Do you suppose that was the reason? Like I just said too much too soon. I didn’t want to appear like some holier-than-thou, but still … I don’t want him here with any of his old habits.”

  Sadie nodded. “It’s tough. And we’re so young. We certainly don’t have any experience raising teenagers. We’re barely out of that stage ourselves.”

  “I am!”

  “Well, yes, you’re ancient. Going on 30, which is alarming.”

  That was as close to lighthearted banter as they could manage, wondering all evening where Tim had gone and why. They discussed his teeth, and Mark said there was no doubt in his mind that poor boy did not have the proper nutrition he so badly needed as a small child.

  “I can’t imagine how he ever became as tall and well built as he is,” he concluded.

  “Aunt Hannah.”

  Mark nodded.

  That night they both lay sleepless and restless, wondering what had happened. The next morning Sadie stayed home from the ranch to make candy and cookies for Christmas, it being only a few weeks away.

  Mark loved chocolate-coated “anything,” which had become a private joke between them. She had acquired plenty of coating chocolate, and with a song of Christmas in her heart, set about melting it in a large stainless steel bowl on top of a pot of boiling water, noting carefully Mam’s handwritten warning on the directions: Don’t leave on burner after water has been boiling for a few minutes. Overheated chocolate will become clumpy.

  “A few minutes”? Typical Mam. Not two minutes or five minutes. Who knew what “a few” meant?

  Should she wait until Mam arrived? She had promised to spend the forenoon with Sadie, bringing Anna, the only sister who had off work. She sighed her disappointment when she saw the horse and buggy pull into the driveway and only Anna hopped off, pu
lling the reins through the silver ring and knotting them expertly.

  Sadie ran to the door, yelling to her sister. “Need help, Anna?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Sadie shivered, closed the door, heated the coffee, and waited eagerly for Anna to arrive at the house. When the washhouse door banged closed, she greeted her eagerly, inquiring about Mam.

  “She never comes over here when she says she will,” Sadie moaned.

  “She said to tell you she’s sorry, but Fred Ketty’s having a quilting for the teacher’s quilt, and it has to be done by Christmas. She said Abe Marian started the whole project back in October, but with those five little ones, she can’t accomplish much in a week. Don’t know why she took it on. Why doesn’t she let the older women tackle it?”

  Sadie shook her head, a wry grin spreading across her features. “That’s Abe Marian.”

  That was the way of it, the Amish community woven together with its intricate ways, personalities, individualities carefully held together by the Master’s hand. Each one was known by the others, accepted, loved, sometimes talked about or clucked over, but forgiven in spite of small blunders and, often, large ones.

  Anna was looking so pale, her skin was translucent, narrow blue veins threading their way up past the delicate skin around her beautiful eyes, the dark shadows beneath them a grayish-white. When she turned to go into the kitchen after hanging up her coat, her waist was alarmingly narrow, her dress folds hanging limply over her nonexistent hips. She folded her angular form into a kitchen chair, a mere whisper of her former self.

  “Anna.”

  “What?”

  Her dark eyes looked to Sadie, bearing defiance, guilt, fear, and what else? Desperation? Acknowledgment of starving herself?

  “You … you’re not looking well.”

  A shrugging of the shoulders. A waving of the hand. A dismissal.

  “Are you eating okay? Throwing up?”

  No use hiding anything. Sadie had nothing to lose this morning, this ghost of Anna’s former self seated at her kitchen table.

  “Oh, be quiet, Sadie. I’m here for two seconds and you’re already starting in on me.”

  “Somebody has to. Mam and Dat won’t say a word about anything. Neither will Leah and Rebekah. Everyone at home just lets you go right ahead killing yourself.”

  Sadie’s words were pointed, harsh, spoken loudly, the words coming slowly and thickly like a predator stalking prey already caught in a steel-jawed trap.

  “Shut up!” Anna screamed suddenly, lunging at Sadie, pummeling her with weak, white fists, propelled only by her anxious fury. It took Sadie completely by surprise. The blows rained on her shoulders, her arms, her back, Anna’s face a twisted caricature of her normal features.

  “Anna! Please don’t.”

  She closed her eyes, cringed, turned her back. Somewhere she heard a door opening, as if in the distance. The blows stopped.

  “Hey, hey, what’s goin’ on here?”

  Timothy! He had an arm around Anna’s waist, pinning the stick-thin arms to her wasted body as she tried weakly to escape.

  “Sadie, help me! Let me go! Get away from me!” Even her cries were weak and pitiful, the meowing sounds of a starved kitten begging for its mother.

  Sadie adjusted her apron, smoothed back her hair, and told Timothy to release her. Anna slumped onto a chair, bent over, and sobbed, her head in her trembling white hands. Timothy stood, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders squared, and looked at Anna with an expression as raw and vulnerable as Sadie had ever seen. It was pity, pure and simple. He understood. He met Sadie’s eyes, raised his eyebrows in question. She shook her head, raised her own. Suddenly Timothy was on his knees, holding Anna’s fluttering, blue-veined hands in his own, murmuring, stilling them.

  “It can’t be that bad. Nothing could happen that makes you want to beat up … ”

  He lifted questioning eyes to Sadie. “Your sister?”

  Sadie nodded, grimacing.

  Timothy gave Anna’s hands a small tug. “Give her a break. It can’t be that bad.”

  Shuddering sobs were the only answer. Tim stood, stepped back, and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Voss iss letts mitt ess?” (What is wrong with her?)

  “She’s … anorexic. Bulimic.” Sadie mouthed the words.

  Tim understood. His eyes opened wide, his eyebrows lifted, he puckered his mouth into a low whistle, shaking his head as if he realized the sad significance of it. Slowly he rolled his eyes to the melting chocolate, the shadow of a grin reaching his features. Sadie looked, caught his meaning, held a hand to her mouth to stifle the smile beginning there, her eyes betraying her merriment. Their eyes caught, the humor a piece of shared chocolate, a bond acknowledged, accepted, a trust crackling to life.

  Tim became self-conscious, then, shuffled to the recliner and sat in it, staring out the window. Sadie went to the light stand, pulled at two tissues and handed them to Anna, who grabbed them and blew her nose without lifting her head. Finally she raised herself, her eyes brimming, averting them from Sadie before looking in Timothy’s direction, the anger consuming her again.

  “Who is he?” she croaked.

  “Mark’s brother, Tim. Timothy Peight.”

  Tim cleared his throat.

  “Tim, this is my sister Anna.”

  Tim stood up as Anna lifted her eyes to his face. “Hello, Anna, I’m pleased to meet you.”

  Anna said nothing, her glare the only response. Sadie bit back words of rebuke, but they rushed to the surface again when Anna blurted out, “Oh, go brush your teeth.”

  Chapter 14

  AND SO BEGAN SADIE’S strange day, as she called it later to Mark. Timothy closed his mouth, went back to the recliner and stayed there, a piece of furniture that could not be moved about and just about as talkative. Anna refused to talk as well, so Sadie prattled on about nothing. Becoming flustered, she coated pretzels, peanut-buttered Ritz crackers, raisins, Cheerios, and anything she could think of to keep her hands occupied and to alleviate the abysmal silence, the air rife with resentment. All her cookie sheets and jelly roll pans were filled. The parchment paper ran out, and still she coated food. Finally, when Sadie thought she would turn into a remote-controlled car, zipping from point to point, driven by the earlier outburst, Anna suddenly broke the silence. Tim was asleep. Good.

  “Sadie, I … didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know what got into me. My life is so plain down weird, I can’t handle it. I was doing much better, felt like eating, and didn’t hate myself quite as much. Then Sheryl broke up with Neil. Now I’m back to where I started. Square one.”

  Sadie said nothing. Waited.

  “See, Merv … You know Merv?”

  Sadie nodded.

  “He’s really a nice guy. I prayed and prayed for God’s will. I know he will ask me, eventually, and I would do well to become his wife. But … ”

  “It’s Neil.” It wasn’t a question; Sadie only filled in the obvious.

  Miserably, Anna nodded. “I can’t control Neil, I can’t control my future. The only thing I can control is my figure. And, I am finally thin enough now. I no longer feel fat.”

  Sadie shook her head. Slowly, Anna’s hand crept out, one finger unfolded, the tip coming down on a speck of chocolate. Lifting it, she held it to her tongue, then closed her mouth, tucking her hands below her armpits as if to keep them from straying for more chocolate.

  Sadie watched her, lifted a chocolate-covered pretzel, still warm and a bit sticky, to her mouth.

  “Mmm,” she said, closing her eyes.

  Anna swallowed.

  “Go ahead, Anna. Eat one. Eat the whole cookie-sheet full.”

  Anna laughed, a small, hard, sound.

  “So is Neil paying attention to you?”

  Miserable eyes, then a miserable voice, talking, talking. It was all a matter of time. He would, eventually, come around. He would settle down. She could help him by dating him, just being with him. But he….<
br />
  Her voice trailed off into a state so abjectly pitiful, Sadie stopped all movement and strained to hear the whispered words.

  She thought he…. In whispered words, the root of her trouble was spilled over the table, the horror curdling Sadie’s stomach with its wrongness.

  “No!” The plastic spatula she was holding sliced through the air and smacked the table with a resounding splat.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, Anna. Believe me when I say this. It’s not what he wants. It’s not what you want. He means you nothing good. You have got to get rid of this guy, this Neil.”

  Tim stirred, sat up, the recliner rocking as he released the handle. Quietly, with Mark’s cat-like grace, he came to the kitchen, went to the sink, and helped himself to a large tumbler of water. Anna’s eyes went to Timothy, assessing the long, dirty-blond hair, the tall, lean figure, the loose jeans. Did she notice his scarred cheeks? His decaying teeth? The teeth, definitely, she thought. Her face was unreadable.

  Tim came to the table, folded himself into a chair, raised his eyes to Sadie’s, and asked if he could help himself. She nodded, still watching Anna’s face. Tim threw a whole chocolate-covered Ritz cracker into his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed, reached for another, then another. Anna swallowed, watching him. He ate six, then asked if they had plenty of milk. Sadie nodded, and he moved to the refrigerator to fill his large glass with milk, guzzling all of it in five or six large gulps, promptly reaching for more crackers coated with chocolate.

  “I hope you’re going to pay rent,” Anna remarked sourly.

  “Think I should?” Tim asked, meeting her gaze squarely, challenging her. Infuriating her, Sadie observed.

  “Yes, I think you should,” Anna said.

  “You know, it’s absolutely none of your business.”

  Sadie winced. Touché. Immediately she changed the subject to something trivial, her words tumbling over each other in her need to smooth things over, but was rewarded by the lack of even a single comment. Tim ate a chocolate-covered pretzel, then tried the raisins, Anna watching him with an increasingly nauseated expression.