by Beth Shriver
Not sure of what he was asking, Annie frowned. “What do you mean?”
His stern eyes bore into hers. “Like it was before you found out.”
“I can’t, Daed.”
“Puh, you will.”
“It’s changed me.”
“It doesn’t change anything.” He forced his words between clenched teeth.
Annie turned her head as a tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn’t win this war of words. He wouldn’t let her feel, wouldn’t let her search for what she needed. “I need to find her.”
“You ungrateful child.” Her father slowly shook his head.
“Nee, Daed.” Annie lifted her hand to his arm. He pulled back and put two fingers to his temple. “Daed, please.” Her ears rang as her heart pounded.
Annie stared at her mamm. She had backed up against the counter with one hand covering her mouth. Annie stood and walked quickly to her. Mamm enveloped Annie into her arms, letting her hide just for a moment, until Annie heard the creak of a chair and the footsteps of her daed slowly fade away.
She turned too late; he was gone. Maybe it was better this way, so she could talk with her mamm alone. “I have to try to find out who I really am. You understand, don’t you?”
Mamm shook her head once, slowly. “Nee, but I can’t stand to see the struggle tear inside you either.” She held Annie’s face in her palms, and Annie saw the anguish in her eyes. “You’re such a sensitive girl. I’d hoped you’d never know.” Mamm’s head tilted as her hands slipped away.
“This is a path that calls my heart, Mamm. I have to follow where it leads me.”
The shuffling noise of Thomas dragging his slippers across the floor caused them both to turn to him.
“I’m hungry.” He plunked down in a chair with sleepy eyes and rested his head on his stuffed rabbit that he’d laid on the table. His eyes slowly closed, jerked open for a second, and then closed.
Mamm squeezed Annie’s hand. “You’d best get some sleep.” She pressed her lips together. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”
Annie nodded, feeling her mamm understood. She might not welcome Annie’s decision, but at least Mamm seemed to know how she felt and what she needed to do. Annie rested in that as she walked up the flight of stairs to her room. Not only a new day, but a new beginning.
Chapter Five
ANNIE WOKE TO hear the barn doors thumping together repeatedly. The wind howled against the house as if angry that the building blocked its course. The windows shuddered, weakening under the influence of the high-powered winds.
Annie rushed to the window and watched as ominous clouds from tornado-producing winds clung together. A thunderstorm raced down the fields, causing a burst of thunder from a violent storm. She dressed quickly and ran downstairs.
Amos watched the sky as Mamm gathered the children. Eli coaxed Samuel out from the false safety of underneath his bed.
“Come, boys, to the cellar.” At the sound of Mamm’s voice both Samuel and Thomas ran to her, with Eli and Augustus following. The girls met them in the hallway, and they huddled together down the stairs as the wind screamed its warning.
Amos stood at the door with coats and blankets. “Stay together as we walk to the cellar. Keep your head down, and follow the feet of the one in front of you,” he yelled over the roaring storm. He picked up Thomas and nodded for Eli to take Samuel.
When Amos opened the door, Annie heard a roar as loud as an approaching train. She ducked into the slicing gales, lifting her arms to cover her face. She stumbled against the wind, keeping her gaze on Eli’s boots in front of her, while Hanna grabbed her robe from behind.
Samuel squealed, and Thomas cried as the wind slapped their faces with sharp gusts of hard air. Frieda stood straight, pushing against a wall of wind. She tried to place a foot forward, but it snapped back. Annie grabbed Frieda’s arm, pulling her close, helping her walk. Augustus followed behind to make sure everyone was accounted for.
The dull sun peeked over the colorless hills, as if hesitant to join the fitful storm. The clouds covered the light, and visibility dropped. Annie tightened her hold on Frieda, unable to see her in the darkness. The others were clinging to each other for the same reason.
Daed and Eli struggled to open the hatch, only to have the wind slap it back down again. John suddenly appeared at another side of the door and without a word helped the other two open the door just enough to let the others enter.
When Annie came close, John placed his hand on her shoulder, shielding her from the unpredictable wind. She ducked under the wooden door, fearing it would snap down on her head. She, Hanna, and Mamm all stood on a stair and held the door open for Daed and the boys.
This time they let the wind push the door shut, and the darkness cut off the light. Annie moved down the stairs, acutely aware of the slanted, vacant area at the end of the cellar. She held John’s hand and refused to let go.
Samuel and Thomas sniffled in the dark. The men’s boots shuffled against the dirt floor. She stood still and caught her breath.
Hanna pulled away from Annie’s side. “I’m going to fetch Samuel.” Annie felt her move and listened to the direction she went. She reached for the earthen walls just as a match was scratched and a lamp lit. Daed held the lantern up and moved it around the room.
“Let there be light,” Mamm whispered as she drew Thomas in to her.
“Come close.” Daed laid blankets on the floor and then pulled their jackets tightly around them.
Annie felt safe next to John and turned to see the courage in his strong face. “I’m glad you’re here.”
The seriousness in his eyes faded slightly. “I started over the minute I heard that wind pick up.”
She wasn’t surprised he’d come, and it meant a lot to her that he had.
“Is your family safe?”
“My family went into the cellar in plenty of time.” He stopped and listened, looking up to the streaks of light pushing through the darkness from the cracks in the door. “We haven’t seen the worst of it yet.”
The dimly lit, damp cellar grew colder. Annie shivered, and she noticed the others scooting closer together. John wrapped Annie’s coat around her and moved closer for warmth. She nestled against him and tried to shut out the roar of the monstrous wind and the rattle and bang of the door as it jumped and shook under the stronger bursts. Samuel startled the first time but became accustomed to the noise and slowly drifted off.
Thomas eyed the jarred food, and Mamm looked over at him. “Our farm’s at stake, and you’re worried about your stomach?”
“Sorry, Mamm.” He tucked his chin down and after a few minutes closed his eyes.
Their daed leaned against a dirt wall, only moving when a louder sound than usual caused him to stir. Hanna sat next to her brothers. She nodded off once, but the noise of the stubborn wind woke her.
As suddenly as the storm had come, it went, leaving in its wake a calm and unnatural quiet. Amos looked to John, and he nodded. John was the first up the stairs, with Daed close behind him. He lifted the door with ease, looked out, and then motioned for the others to follow. Annie heard Eli groan and scrambled up the stairs to see what the storm had left them.
Annie scanned the fields, which lay barren as far as she could see. Yesterday’s hard work had sailed away with the gales, which reached down and snatched the corn leaves, shafts, and husks. Their buggy laid on its side, along with assorted shovels, rakes, and hoes. Some were picked up and tossed a few feet away; others were completely gone. The destructive winds had been selective in what they kept and discarded.
“Thank Gott we moved in our crop.” Mamm let Samuel slide down her side.
“The Lord provides.” Annie spoke softly, taking in the power of the wind.
John stepped up beside her and touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Jah.” Annie gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Do you need to go?”
He studied the wind and looked up at the sky, now void of clouds. An eerie stillness hung i
n the lifeless air. “My daed has four sons to help him.” He turned to her. “I’ll stay and help Amos.”
They walked over to Amos as he examined his farm and then slowly walk toward the barnyards. “Let’s check the livestock.” The boys followed; even Samuel was at his daed’s heels, anxious to see what was left and what was lost.
The east barn was torn down into splinters. Great trees and shrubs had been ripped from the ground, broken off and uprooted, and bark had peeled from tree trunks. Fields were covered with rubble, boards, and timber. Fences lay scattered across the dirt road leading up to their home, which was still standing but with a large hole in the roof. Articles of clothing from the clothesline were matted together or hanging from trees. Grain spilled out from the torn side of one of the granaries.
John walked past the barn to look for hurt or wandering animals. Most had run off when the howling wind came upon them. Others were long gone, and the family could only hope they would find their way back. Only a handful of livestock remained within sight. The storm had chosen an erratic path, leaving some areas untouched while others were stripped bare.
Annie’s voice broke the silence. “Does anyone see Otto?” She hated to even hope for him to have made it but couldn’t help asking. She scanned the area, but the horse wasn’t in view. No one answered, telling her he wasn’t around.
A feeling of depression seemed to settle over them. No more words were spoken as they began to pick up debris and haul off broken posts and destroyed tools. The younger ones didn’t have the strength to help with the heavy farm equipment, so Annie found a functional wheelbarrow that Augustus pushed around while they threw wreckage into it.
A cluster of men walked down the path, picking up what they could carry along the way. This was the way their community functioned. They would go from farm to farm until every family was tended to. It would take days or weeks to complete the task, but for today they would assess each one’s damage and help those most in need first. Hearing their comments, Annie was saddened to hear of the devastating loss.
“Ezekiel lost every one of his chickens, but the tornado didn’t touch the rest of his herds.”
“Mel’s family took cover in a cave when they saw that twister coming. Good thing too, because their house is gone and everything in it.”
“I hear the west side didn’t get hit at all—not a single farm. Hard to figure.”
Annie’s sadness changed to appreciation that they were all well, and as she looked out to the farthest pasture, she saw a four-legged creature sure to be Otto. She felt the air seep out of her lungs with relief.
Her daed thought she was too attached to the animal. “He’s a work horse, not a pet,” he’d tell her when she gave him special attention, so she would steal time with him away from her daed’s sight. She rationalized this by telling herself she was caring for one of Gott’s creatures.
She clucked to him, and he lifted his huge head toward her. As he made his way over, Annie looked out over the fields. Strange how some were affected and others were left unscathed.
Much like when God puts more obstacles in one person’s life than another’s. With the new burden she carried she felt like one of the former. One piece of knowledge had turned her whole life upside down. Now she could humbly relate to others with hardships to bear. Now she knew how it felt to be in pain.
As Otto approached, Annie turned and headed to the barn, corralling some of the other wandering horses and animals that were scattered along her path as she went. Once they had been tended to, she made her way into the house to help Mamm. The men would stay in the fields trying to salvage what they could, and the women would prepare a good meal for them before they went out to help.
Mamm stood over the counter cutting up meat into pieces while Hanna cut up vegetables. Frieda was attempting to mix up a batch of dough to make rolls, and Annie went over to help her.
“Need a hand?” She took quick steps over before the bowl of lumpy batter fell onto the floor. When Frieda removed her hands from the bowl, a sticky string of dough trailed along with her.
“Oops!” Frieda stretched her fingers out full of dough and went to the pump to clean up.
Mamm looked over at them. The smile that mishaps usually brought out in her was replaced with hard eyes and straight face. “Hanna, Frieda, will you take this out to the men?” She handed them some cups and a large bottle of water.
Hanna’s eyebrows drew together in question. Annie was curious too. They had much cooking to do before the men would come in to eat. Hanna helped Frieda off the stool where she washed, and they went out back with the water.
Annie added flour to the dough to try and save the mushy mess Frieda had made. Mamm picked up the pieces of meat and put them in a large pot that was simmering with broth.
“Annie, are you going to go through with this idea of leaving?” She looked up after she asked and gazed into Annie’s eyes.
Annie looked away and answered, “Jah, Mamm. I hope you underst—”
Mamm turned, and they both continued with their work. “If that is so, I will make contact with a family that can take you in.” She reached up to the top shelf of the hutch and pulled out an old flour container. Mamm pulled out a roll of cash and handed it to her. “Here, you’ll need this.”
Annie had not had many occasions to deal with money, aside from the few times they’d gone to town and she’d been asked to pick up something for her mother, which was rare. Paper or a particular spice that Mamm used for fall cooking that she couldn’t grow in her garden, or one time when Daed purchased a tool—those were the only times she could remember. They had all they needed.
“I have some, Mamm.” She only had what had she earned by selling baked goods at the mud sales they had in town every year. Furniture, crafts, quilts, and livestock were all sold at the spring event. Annie had done well selling a variety of berry breads.
“Not enough. Take it.” Mamm shoved the flour-covered bills into Annie’s hand. “It’s my money to use as I see fit.” She quickly put the container away.
“I’ll repay you…somehow.” She stared at the green paper bills in her hand and felt guilt wash over her. Although she’d thought about the basics she would need to go into the city, she had only considered the emotional cost, not the monetary cost.
“You’ll repay me by returning home once this is over.” Mamm’s voice was level and cold. She was forcing herself to do this for Annie out of necessity, nothing more. But she was helping just the same.
“I know this is difficult, but I’m so grateful you understand enough to help me.” Annie stared at her mamm until she finally stopped wiping down the counter and looked back at her.
“It’s not just your family you need to worry about. Minister Zeke and the other ministers will be asking questions. You will have to answer to them if you come back.” She pressed her lips together and turned to finish her task.
Annie sighed with frustration. No one seemed to believe it would be a short visit, just long enough to get some information. She decided to stop trying; they would just have to see to believe. “Danke, Mamm. And I will repay you.”
In just the way Mamm requested—by coming home.
Chapter Six
DURING THE NEXT few days Annie became quietly preoccupied with her plans. She knew not to share her thoughts with anyone, but her unusual pensiveness attracted the attention of her sister.
Hanna and Annie followed behind their family on their way to Sunday singing. Hanna glanced up at Annie then back at the dirt road. She kicked a rock, which rolled up next to Samuel, who began a kick-the-stone game with Augustus.
“Are you really going to leave?” Hanna kept her eyes averted.
“I have to, Hanna.” Annie didn’t look at her, just kept walking. The only sound was the crunch of pebbles beneath their feet.
“What does Daed say?”
“He won’t talk with me about it, but Mamm has made arrangements for me to go.”
“Where will you
stay, and for how long?”
“With a family who lives in Harrisonburg. I’ll stay as long as they’ll have me.”
“Is that where they think you’ll find her?”
“That’s where the Glicks think it would be best to start.”
“The Glicks? That’s Amish.”
“That’s the family I’ll be staying with. They left the community when we were young. They were excommunicated.”
“Why?”
“Mamm didn’t say.”
“But she’s letting you stay with them?”
Annie stopped and looked at Hanna. “I’ll probably be outcast by my family when I leave, so we belong together, jah?” Annie couldn’t help but let the bitterness seep out. Her loved ones had drawn a line, and she was crossing it.
“You’re willing to let that happen? Is this so important that you’re willing to cause this grief to all who care about you?”
Annie paused and looked out over the valley floor and mountaintops. She took in the fresh air and closed her eyes as she answered. “There is a starved place in me, one that can only be filled by finding the truth. I know no one understands that, but no one was discarded by their mamm as a child either.”
“There could be lots of reasons why you were abandoned. But it doesn’t matter.” Hanna waved her hand as if it could be so easily forgotten.
“It does to me. I need to find out.” Annie walked quickly to catch up to the rest of her family. Hanna wouldn’t talk of this within her daed’s range of hearing. But Hanna didn’t follow her. Annie glanced over her shoulder to watch her. Hanna kept her distance as she looked out over the endless acres of hibernating fields still scattered and tangled by the storm. Annie followed her gaze and then realized this was the north field, the very one where she was found as a newborn.
What must it have been like that night? My daed on a mission to protect his animals and ending up saving me. When he showed me to Mamm, did she want me? Did he? Would they have admitted not wanting to keep a strange child?
The sound of a rock hitting a tree with a thunk brought Annie back. Appreciative of the distraction, she watched her brothers attempt to hit a far-off tree.
