Amish Redemption

by Patricia Davids

  She relaxed slightly. “Do you live here?”

  “I don’t, but my great-uncle did until he died a few months ago.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Danki, but I never knew him. He was Englisch. He left the family years ago and never contacted them again. Everyone was surprised to learn he had willed the property to my mother. She is only one of his many nieces.”

  “He must have cherished a fondness for her.”

  “So it would seem. My father sent me to check out the place, as the letter from the attorney said it was in rough shape. Daed wants to find out what will be needed to get it ready to farm, rent out or sell. Unfortunately, it’s in much worse condition than we expected.”

  That was an understatement. His father would have to invest heavily in this farm to get it in working order, and the family didn’t have that kind of money. They would need to sell it.

  “From the sounds of things, it will need even more repair after the storm passes.”

  He chuckled at her wry tone. “Ja. I think the good Lord may have done us a favor by tearing down the old house. I just wish He had waited until we were out of the way.”

  His eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom. He could make out Mary’s white apron and the pale oval of her face framed by her black traveling bonnet. She sat down, too, pulling her child into her lap. Together, they waited side by side in the darkness. At least she seemed less afraid of him now.

  The thunder continued to rumble, punctuating the sound of the wind and the steady rain. They sat in tense silence. Even the child was quiet. After a while, the thunder grew less violent but the rain continued. Was it going to storm all night? If so, he might as well find out what was left of the property and see if he could get this young mother and daughter home.

  He rose to his feet. “Stay here until I’m sure it’s safe to go out.”

  She stood, too, holding her little girl in her arms. “Be careful.”

  He made his way to the cellar door and pushed up on it. It wouldn’t budge.

  He pushed harder. It still didn’t move. Something heavy was blocking it. He worked to control the panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t be trapped. Not in such a small place. It was like being in prison all over again. His palms grew damp and his heart began to pound.

  “What’s wrong?” Mary asked.

  The last thing he wanted was to scare her again, but she would soon find out what was going on. He worked to keep his tone calm. There was no point in frightening her more than she already was. “Something is blocking the door. I can’t move it. Can you give me a hand?”

  He sounded almost normal and was pleased with himself. If she knew differently, she didn’t let on. Having someone else to worry about was helping to keep his panic under control.

  “Hannah, stay right here,” Mary said, then made her way up the steps until she was beside him. She braced her arms against the overhead door. “On three.”

  She counted off and they both pushed. Nothing. It could have been nailed shut for all their efforts accomplished. He moved a step higher and braced his back against the old boards. He pushed with all his might, straining to move whatever held it. Mary pushed, too, but still the door refused to budge.

  This can’t be happening.

  “Help! Help, we’re down here,” she yelled, and beat on the door with her fists. He wanted to do the same.

  Don’t think of yourself. Think of her. Think of her child. They need you to be calm.

  He drew a steadying breath. “There isn’t anyone around to hear you. This farm has been deserted for months.”

  “There must be another way out.”

  He heard the rising panic in her voice. He forced himself to relax and speak casually. “There should be a staircase to the inside of the house. Hopefully, it isn’t blocked.”

  “Of course. Let’s find it. I don’t want to stay down here any longer than I must. All this dust isn’t good for Hannah.”

  She started to move past him, but he caught her arm. “You could get hurt stumbling around in the dark. Stay here with your daughter. I’ll go look. I’ve got a lighter, but I’m not sure how much fuel is left in it. Shout if you hear anything outside. No one will be looking for me, but your family will be looking for you, right?”

  “They will, but not soon.”

  That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Maybe someone will see your buggy out there and come to investigate.”

  “My buggy isn’t out there. Didn’t you see it get sucked up and carried away?”

  “I didn’t. I had my eyes fixed on you.”

  “No one is going to know where to look for us, are they?” Her voice trembled.

  “It won’t matter once I find a way out. I’ll be back as quick as I can.” It was an assurance he didn’t really feel.

  He tried to remember the layout of the building he had surveyed for his father. Although he had looked in through the windows that hadn’t been boarded over, he hadn’t ventured inside to explore thoroughly since his father was more interested in the land and its potential. Joshua didn’t remember seeing a door that might be an inside entrance to the cellar. Some older houses only had outside entrances. The most logical place for the stairs would be near the kitchen at the other end of the house.

  As it continued to rain, water began pouring through cracks in the floorboards overhead. That wasn’t good. It meant a part of the house had been torn open, allowing the rain to come in. How sound was what remained? The steady rumble of thunder promised more rain. Would the saturated wood give way and finish what the tornado had started? He looked over his shoulder. “Mary, stay near the wall or in the stairwell, okay?”

  “I will.”

  Joshua surveyed what he could in the darkness. The cellar itself wasn’t empty. The only clear place seemed to be where they were standing. The cavernous space was piled high with odds and ends of lumber, boxes, old tires and discarded household items. His great-uncle, it seemed, had been a hoarder as well as a recluse.

  Joshua had put a lighter in his pocket before leaving the farm in case he ended up camping out. It had come in handy last night and now he pulled it out, clicked it on and held it over his head. Gray cobwebs waved from every surface in the flickering light that did little to pierce the gloom. He couldn’t keep the lighter on for long before he burned his fingers, so he quickly identified a path and let the light go out.

  Stepping around a pair of broken chairs, he pushed aside wooden boxes of unknown items. When his shin hit something, he flicked on the lighter again. A set of box springs blocked his way. Most of the cloth covering had rotted away. Mice had made off with more. Skirting it as best he could without stepping on the springs, he continued along the cellar wall. A set of shelves on the far side was lined with dust-covered cans, jars and crocks, but he saw no stairs. He finished the circuit and moved back toward where Mary was standing. He flicked on his light.

  “Have you discovered a way out?” Her voice shook only slightly, but he saw the worry in her eyes.

  They weren’t going anywhere until someone found them. He had no idea how long that might take. They could be down here for hours, days even. The thought was chilling. He stopped a few feet away from her and let the light go out. How did he tell a frightened woman she was trapped in a cellar with a man who’d spent the past six months in prison?

  * * *

  When Joshua didn’t answer her question, Mary’s heart sank. She knew he hadn’t found an exit. She bit her thumbnail as she considered their predicament. Her friends would be concerned when she didn’t arrive at the quilting bee, but they might assume she had stayed home to wait out the storm. When she didn’t return home this evening, Ada would become concerned, but she might think Mary had decided to spend the night at the Sutter farm. Ada might not even know about the tornado if it had
formed this side of the farm.

  Mary hoped that was the case. Ada had a bad heart and didn’t need such worry. It could be morning before she became concerned about them and perhaps as late as noon before she realized they were missing.

  Mary’s adoptive parents, Nick and Miriam Bradley would begin looking for them as soon as their absence was noted. Miriam stopped at the farm every morning and Nick dropped by every evening on his way home from work without fail. He would know about the tornado. He would stop by the farm this evening to make sure she and Hannah were safe. Would he go to the Sutter farm to check on them when he found they weren’t home? She had no way of knowing, but she prayed that he would.

  It might take a while, but Nick would find them. Mary had no doubt of that. But would he find them before dark? Or was she going to have to spend the night with this stranger?

  Chapter Three

  Mary shivered as she looked around the old cellar. If she had to spend the night in here, she wouldn’t like it, but she could do it. She would depend on God for His protection and comfort. In the meantime, she had to be brave for her child and make the best of a bad situation for Joshua’s sake, too. He was trying to hide his fear, but she saw it in his eyes.

  “I noticed an old lantern hanging from a nail by the cellar steps. We should check and see if it has any kerosene in it.” She spoke calmly, surprised to find her voice sounded matter of fact.

  “Good idea. I’ll see if I can find an ax or something useful to chop open or pry up the door.” Joshua flicked his lighter on. He located the lantern, took it down from the nail and shook it. A faint sloshing sound gave Mary hope.

  Hannah tugged on her skirt. “I’m hungry. Can we go home now?”

  Joshua leaned toward her. “You mean you want to go home before our adventure has ended?”

  Hannah gave him a perplexed look. “What adventure?”

  “Why, our treasure hunt.” He raised the glass chimney of the lantern and held his lighter to the wick. It flickered feebly for a second and then caught. He lowered the glass, wiped it free of dust with his sleeve and turned up the wick. The lamp cast a golden glow over their surroundings. It was amazing how much better Mary felt now that she could see.

  “What kind of treasure hunt?” Hannah sounded intrigued by the idea.

  “We’re all going to hunt for some useful things,” Mary said.

  Joshua nodded. “That’s right. Let’s pretend that we are going to make this cellar into a home. What do we need first?”

  “Chairs and a table,” Hannah said.

  “Then help me look for some on our pretend shopping trip.” He glanced at Mary. She nodded and he held out his hand to Hannah. “I think I saw some chairs over this way. Don’t you like to go shopping? I do. This storekeeper needs to sweep out his store, though. This place is as dirty as a rainbow.”

  Hannah scowled at him. “Rainbows aren’t dirty. They’re pretty and clean.”

  He held his lantern higher. “Are they? Well, this place isn’t. It’s as dirty as a star.”

  “Stars aren’t dirty, Joshua. They twinkle.”

  “Then you tell me what is dirty.”

  “A pigpen.”

  “Yup, that is dirty, all right, but this place is worse than a pigpen. What else is dirty?”

  “Your face.”

  Mary choked on her laugh. Hannah was right. His face was covered in dirt. There were cobwebs on his clothes and bits of leaves and grass in his dark brown hair. It was then she realized how short his hair was. It wasn’t the style worn by Amish men. Joshua must still be in his rumspringa.

  Mary had left her running-around years behind a few short weeks after Hannah was born. She had been baptized into the Amish faith at the age of sixteen, the time when most Amish teens were just beginning to test the waters of the English world.

  Joshua seemed to notice she was staring at him. He rubbed a hand over his head in a self-conscious gesture and shook free some of the clinging grime.

  Mary looked away. She wiped down her sleeves and brushed off her bonnet, knowing she couldn’t look much better. Oddly, she wished she had a mirror to make sure her face was clean. It wasn’t like her to be concerned with her looks, but she did wonder what Joshua thought of her.

  That was silly. He would think she was a married woman with a child, and that was a good thing. She glanced at him again.

  He wiped his face with both hands but it didn’t do much good. He spoke to Hannah. “This isn’t dirt. It’s flour. I was going to bake a cake.”

  Hannah giggled at his silliness. “It is not flour.”

  “Okay, but this is a table and we need one.” He held his find aloft. The ancient rocker was missing a few spindles in the back, but the seat was intact.

  Hannah planted her hands on her hips. “That’s a chair.”

  “It’s a good thing I have you to help me shop. I’d never find the right stuff on my own. Let’s go look for a donkey.”

  Hannah giggled again. “Joshua, we don’t need a donkey in our house.”

  “We don’t? I’m so glad. I don’t know where it would sleep tonight.”

  His foolishness made Mary smile. He was distracting and entertaining Hannah. For that, she was grateful. Mary turned her attention to finding something to collect the rainwater. She had no idea how long they might be down here, but Hannah was sure to be thirsty soon.

  She found a metal tub hanging from a post near the center of the room. It had probably been a washtub at one time. Using her apron, she wiped it out and positioned it under the worst of the dripping. Next, she found an empty glass canning jar and rinsed it out the same way. She put it in the center of the tub. Once the jar was full, the overflow would accumulate in the tub and leave her something to wash with later.

  The plink, plink, plink of the water hitting the bottom of the jar was annoying, but they would be grateful for the bounty before morning. She refused to think they might be down here more than one night.

  Taking off her bonnet, she laid it aside. Then she held the cleanest corner of her apron under a neighboring drip until it was wet and unobtrusively used it to scrub her face.

  At the end of their shopping trip, Joshua and Hannah came back with two barely usable chairs, a small wooden crate for a third seat and another washtub with a hole in the side for a table, but no ax or tools. Joshua set the furniture up in their corner, allowing Hannah to arrange and rearrange them to her satisfaction in her imaginary house.

  While her daughter was busy, Mary spoke quietly to Joshua. “I will be fine until we are rescued, but Hannah will be hungry soon. Do you have anything to eat?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry. Everything I have is out in my buggy in the barn. There are some cans and jars on the shelf back there. Want me to take a look?”

  “Nee, you’re doing a wonderful job keeping Hannah occupied. I’ll go look.” Normally leery of strangers, Mary didn’t feel her usual disquiet with Joshua. She assumed their current circumstances made him seem like less of a stranger and more like a friend in need.

  He pulled a candle stub from his pocket. “I found this along with a couple of others in a pan. It was the best one.” He lit it, dripped a small amount of wax on the overturned washtub and stuck the butt in it to hold the candle upright. Then he handed Mary the lantern.

  “Someone was probably saving them to melt down to reuse.” She didn’t have a mold to form a new candle, but she could make one by dipping a wick in the melted wax. A strip of cotton cloth from her apron or from her kapp ribbon would make an adequate wick. She would work on that before the lantern ran out of fuel. Sitting in the dark was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Hannah began jumping up and down. “I hear a siren. Do you hear it? It’s Papa Nick!”

  Mary’s spirits rose until the welcome sound faded away. Nick wasn’t coming
for them. He had no idea where she was. It might not even have been him. How much damage had been done by the tornado? Were others in need of rescue?

  A few moments later, she heard the sound of another siren on the highway. Were they ambulances rushing to help people injured by the twister? She had been praying so hard for herself and for Hannah that she had forgotten about others in the area. This part of the county was dotted with English and Amish farms and businesses. How many had been destroyed? How many people had lost their lives? She prayed now for all the people she knew beyond the stone walls keeping her prisoner. It was the only thing she could do to help.

  Lifting the lantern, she moved across the crowded room to the shelves Joshua had indicated and searched through the contents. She glanced back to see him placing the tub as Hannah instructed in her imaginary house. The lantern flickered and Mary turned up the wick. She hated being trapped, but at least she didn’t have to face the situation alone.

  A dozen times in the next half hour the eerie wailing of sirens rose and fell as they passed by on the highway a quarter of a mile away from the house. Each time, Mary’s hopes sprang to life and then ebbed away with the sound. She met Joshua’s eyes. They both knew it was a bad sign.

  * * *

  Joshua noticed the growing look of concern on Mary’s face. It didn’t surprise him. He was concerned, too. He had no idea when rescue would come. Would anyone think to search an old house that had been abandoned for months? Why would they? He racked his brain for a way to signal that they were here, but came up empty. Someone would have to come close enough to hear them shouting.

  Hannah came to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Joshua, we need a stove and a bed now. Take me shopping again.”

  She looked and sounded like a miniature version of her mother. He had to smile. “You are a bossy woman. Does your mother boss your daed that way?”

  Hannah shook her head. “He died a long time ago. I don’t remember him. But I have Papa Nick.”

  At first, Joshua had assumed Papa Nick was Englisch because Hannah connected him to the siren she heard. However, the siren could have belonged to one of the many Amish volunteer fire department crews that dotted the area. Was Papa Nick her new father, perhaps? He glanced to where Mary was searching the shelves and asked quietly, “Who is Nick?”