Levi didn’t respond to that, so she continued. “I think I’d rather help the Bylers in the dry goods store. They are very busy from Thanksgiving until Christmas. That would also allow me to spend the time between now and Thanksgiving helping Mamm with the canning.”
“A gut idea.” Levi patted her knee, and then he pointed his cane at the field. “The Lord gives us a time of planting and a time for the land to lay fallow. It is the same with people, but perhaps… in your case… your best use of some of those long winter days would be to visit a new place.”
“Mamm is trying to marry me off, and you’re trying to get rid of me.” Becca shook her head in mock despair.
“Nein, Becca Lynn, but many communities are larger than ours. It’s hard for one your age to have too few prospects.”
Becca laughed. “That’s a nice word for it. Is it so necessary for a woman to marry, Daddi? Is it a sin to remain single?”
“Of course not.” Levi tapped his cane against the ground for emphasis. “Some are called to the single life. Remember, the apostle Paul tells us in the first letter to the Corinthians that it is better to remain single.”
“So why is everyone concerned that I’m not dating?”
“In my experience, few are called to the single life.”
He said no more, and they remained there, watching the occasional bird land in the garden’s rows and peck the ground for worms.
When they stood and walked back toward the house, Becca asked, “How do I know which life I’m called to?”
“Gotte will make that plain to you.”
“I rather like the idea of going on a mission trip. How do we know there will be a need for volunteers this winter?”
“There’s always a need, both in Amish communities and in Englisch ones. Our brethren in the Mennonite church send out a monthly letter, requesting help for certain weeks in certain places. We will go over the next letter I receive together.”
And so it was decided. Becca didn’t expect that a trip to some far-flung community would bring clarity to her own life, but neither did she want to sit around the house through the long snow-filled months, quilting and cleaning and waiting for spring. A mission trip would at least provide her with a distraction.
Distractions weren’t always a bad thing.
And perhaps when she returned home, she’d have a clearer idea of who she was and what she wanted her future to include.
CHAPTER 9
Joshua could tell before he took his first bite of stew that it was going to be one of those dinners.
Karen and Katherine were arguing over a homework assignment they had received at school that day.
“Brian said to write half a page first and then read the story.” Karen reached up and rubbed at the braids under her kapp.
“That’s stupid. How can you write about something before you read it?” Katherine ignored a look of reprimand from her mother. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Does too if you’d been listening—”
“That’s enough girls.” Abigail added a plate of warm corn bread to the table. “You can each do what you think is right, and we’ll find out tomorrow who is correct. Until then, stop arguing about it.”
Katherine rolled her eyes at Karen, who frowned into her stew. No doubt she was now wondering if she’d remembered correctly. Both girls were fiercely competitive. Joshua understood that as Amish they weren’t supposed to worry about who was first in the class or who had the best grade, but he also knew his sisters. They had been trying to outdo each other since the day they were born—or so it seemed to him.
“If you two would stop passing notes during class, you’d know what Brian said.” Betsy was only two years older, but at the age of twelve she was also only two years away from being out of school. She’d once confessed to Joshua that she didn’t even like being around younger children and was convinced she would make a terrible mom.
“How would you know? You’re busy making eyes at Caleb Stutzman.” Janet was the tomboy of the group, and she couldn’t understand why anyone would waste time flirting, dating, or courting.
“Boys seem hopelessly boring to me,” she’d declared the night before at dinner, throwing an apologetic look at Joshua. Now she dug into her stew and said, “Betsy has a terrible crush on Caleb. She turns beet red if he even looks her way.”
Betsy stared into her stew as if she might find a way to disappear there. Joshua felt bad for her, but he also wished his sisters would stop arguing. They were beginning to give him a headache.
His father must have been thinking the same thing. “Perhaps we should spend the meal in silence.”
But silence was not to be.
Before Joshua was halfway through his dinner, the clatter of horse hooves was heard outside.
“Can only be Levi.” His father wiped his mouth and stood. “Anyone else would be on a tractor.”
Joshua followed him out onto the front porch. Possibly they would need his help. He knew the minute he looked at Levi’s face that the news wasn’t good. Their dog, Blue, followed Levi onto the porch and then sat with his head cocked, as if he were curious.
“It’s Alton,” Levi said. “I’m afraid he’s in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Joshua hadn’t heard his mother follow them from the kitchen, but now she stood at the front door, clutching her apron in both fists. At that moment, Joshua found himself glad that he’d not married. If having children produced the kind of heartbreak he was seeing on his mother’s face, he wasn’t sure he was man enough to bear it.
“I had a call from the bishop in Clarita.” Levi leaned on his cane, paused, and then he said, “Perhaps we should go inside.”
The girls were hurried up to their rooms, though Joshua stood facing the stairs and could see that they had stopped at the landing. They were standing close together, eyes wide, waiting as intently as Joshua’s parents were. He noticed that Katherine and Karen were now holding hands, all animosity over the school assignment forgotten.
“Alton apparently arrived in Clarita yesterday.”
“He was gone when we woke. Actually, I think I heard his truck start sometime around four.” Abigail was sitting on a chair, perched on the edge. “He left no note explaining where he went.”
“Apparently this is about a girl,” Levi said.
She looked at Joshua, as if for an explanation, but he only shrugged. He hadn’t seen the photo of the girl Alton was looking at on the phone. He didn’t even hear her name.
“The parents noticed that the girl wasn’t around at lunch. She’d been manning a produce stand near the road. They thought she was off with some friends, but she didn’t come home last night.”
Joshua’s father paced back and forth in front of the window. Then he turned toward Levi. “Are we sure she was with Alton?”
“Clarita is a small community. Smaller even than ours. Several folks saw them walking together, and then she got into his truck.”
“Alton isn’t the only Amish boy to own a truck.” His mother shook her head. “It could have been anyone—”
“He introduced himself to one of the farmers when he first stopped at the produce stand. Didn’t give a last name, just Alton. The bishop there figured he must be from here because we’re the closest Plain community.”
“It’s a good distance from here to Clarita.” His father ran his fingers through his beard.
“It is. Almost three hours by car.” Levi hesitated, sighed, and continued. “That’s not the worst of it. Last night they stopped to eat at an Englisch restaurant. Apparently Alton had a few beers—”
“He’s not old enough to buy them,” Joshua’s mother protested.
“He used a fake ID. They aren’t that hard to come by, unfortunately.”
No one spoke for a few moments as they processed all that Levi had said. It was obvious by the way he was sitting—leaning slightly forward with both hands on top of his cane—that he wasn’t through yet.
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He continued. “The highway patrol in McAlester had stopped into the same restaurant—”
“What was he doing in McAlester?” Joshua’s mom shook her head as if she was having trouble processing the stops along the course of her son’s rebellion.
“Apparently, he started in Clarita, but he was driving back this direction for some reason. McAlester is more or less halfway. Regardless, the highway patrol noticed the boy weaving toward his truck and stopped him as he was leaving.”
“Tell me my son is not in jail.”
His mother’s complexion turned from pale to red.
Joshua understood that meant she was quickly moving from shock to anger. What followed would not be good. His mother had a terrible temper, one they didn’t see often.
He seriously doubted his brother had any idea just how much trouble he was in. Probably he hadn’t even thought of home or what it would be like when he returned, if he returned. Joshua had the urge to walk out of the house—go to the barn and spend the next hour brushing down the horses. Somehow, he was certain the bishop had saved the worst for last.
“He is in jail, Abigail.” The bishop’s voice was soft, calming, even matter-of-fact.
Joshua wondered just how often he had dealt with this sort of thing before.
“Fortunately, the officers only issued a warning for the fake ID and the minor under the influence because both were his first offense. I believe their leniency was owing to the fact that he wasn’t beyond the legal limit, but it is of course still illegal for him to purchase and consume alcohol in a public establishment.”
When no one spoke, Levi added, “Alton wouldn’t tell the authorities his real name. Apparently, the girl became upset and asked one of the officers to call her bishop, and the story unwound from there.”
“So what now?” Daniel asked.
“He’s a minor with a fake ID and no valid driver’s license. You need to go and fetch him.”
Daniel sat down heavily in the remaining chair, across from the bishop. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and ran his right hand up and down his jaw. Finally, he said, “I just started planting my winter wheat, Levi. I will go and get the boy, but I don’t see how I can do it tonight or tomorrow—”
“Send Joshua.”
“Me? Why me?” Joshua had no interest in traipsing after his little brother. In his opinion, a week in the Englisch jail might do him good.
“You still have your driver’s license, don’t you? If I remember correctly, the church leadership allowed you to apply for one the winter you worked delivering supplies for the mill.”
“Ya, but I haven’t driven since then. I’ve had no need or inclination to be behind the wheel of an Englisch vehicle.”
“Take the bus down first thing tomorrow morning. Pick up your bruder and drive him back.”
When his father and mother shared a look, Joshua knew his fate was sealed. All that remained was to work out the details.
CHAPTER 10
Charlie realized he should already have left Port A. Though it was an hour until sunset, a strange darkness was creeping across the island. To the west, the sun was making a valiant attempt to overcome the shadow of Orion. To the east, the clouds were now filling the sky, reminding Charlie of a big, black runaway train intent on producing massive destruction.
The surf was up and the ferries had stopped thirty minutes earlier, according to the news bulletins he was listening to on the radio. Closing the ferries wasn’t done until it was absolutely necessary. When the tide rose to the point where the ramps met the boat, they shut down. The ferries then went to the Corpus Christi harbor to ride out the storm.
Charlie could still leave by the bridge, though he didn’t look forward to driving over it in gale force winds. As a last resort, he could catch a ride with the Coast Guard, who were dedicated to manning rescue boats as long as possible. But at some point they too would have to take shelter in Corpus—a fact that was being replayed over the radio every few minutes.
Would Orion be worse than Carla or Celia or Allen? No one could say, but unless it changed directions at the last minute, they could expect widespread devastation. Charlie didn’t need a degree in meteorological science to understand that.
The wind rocked his truck as he turned toward the southern end of the island. He’d intended to check on Moose as soon as he’d left Alice’s, but then he’d remembered two other old-timers who might be hesitant to leave. He’d gone to their house and helped them pack a few items. Then he’d taken them into town and left them at the Coast Guard drop site. They would be off the island within the hour.
By then it was early afternoon, and he knew he needed to attend to his own evacuation plan. Charlie had never considered himself a hero, but neither could he walk away from people who needed help. He couldn’t just drive past the couple who were frantically packing their car while a baby cried from the backseat. The young parents were running back and forth, throwing trash bags full of who-knew-what into the car. He helped them with the last few items, which included a cat in a carrier, and sent them on their way.
Another car down the road had a flat tire. He pulled over and assisted the young man in putting on the spare—he was reading the car manual trying to figure out how to use the jack. At least the spare had air in it. Together they had changed the tire in just under forty-five minutes—and most of that time had been unloading and reloading the luggage. Once he was sure the young man was headed in the right direction, he’d driven toward the main drag and turned south.
He had to detour to his own place and pick up his bag that was already packed and a box of food and treats he had for Quitz. Neither was that important, and he probably shouldn’t have taken the time, but he’d wanted—no he’d needed—to see his place one last time.
The house, like most of those positioned near the beach, was built with all of the living area on the second floor. Downstairs was a place to park two cars, a sheltered picnic area, and a large supply room. Outside stairs led up to the main area of the house—three bedrooms, a spacious living room, a kitchen that Madelyn had dubbed Paradise, two bathrooms, and a large family room.
Large plate glass windows normally provided a view of the ocean, but Charlie had fitted the plywood over the glass the evening before.
He had known all day that the situation was worsening. He’d been listening to the radio throughout the afternoon, and it was plain enough by the way the tide was churning and the sky was darkening that they were not going to dodge this storm.
He understood all of this in his mind, but his heart didn’t accept the full scope of the situation until he’d driven to his house, parked, and climbed the stairs.
His pulse beat faster, as if he was being chased. He could barely hear over the roar of his blood rushing as adrenaline filled his veins. Why had he delayed so long? Why hadn’t he left with Alice? Had he thought himself ready to leave this life? To join Madelyn? Thinking it and understanding he was in mortal danger were two very different things. As he stood at the top of the stairs on the little landing that led to his front door, he found himself praying for God’s hand to protect him. He hesitated there, staring out where the beach should be—but it had disappeared under the swelling tide. Raising his gaze, he tried to take in the breadth and depth of Orion.
Quitz whined and pressed against his side.
The surf churned, pushing its way to the top of the dunes that separated his home from the beach. It pushed angrily at the sand, determined to find a way over or through.
The actual storm surge was going to be massive. If it reached fifteen to twenty feet, there wouldn’t be much left standing in Port A. If it reached twenty-two feet, large portions of Corpus would be under water. He imagined he could see the outer band of Orion, though the news alerts said the actual hurricane was still several hours away yet. The waves, though, they had a restless, violent nature that was all too familiar.
He’d seen it before.
Suddenly all his memories fr
om Celia—memories he’d been fighting to suppress since he’d heard the name Orion—flooded his mind, causing his heart to ache. He’d been so afraid then, so terrified of losing Madelyn. He would have gladly given away everything else they owned if only someone could guarantee her safety. But no one could, and that was when Charlie had first found his faith. When he’d needed it most.
Foxhole religion? Perhaps. But he’d accepted long ago that any path to God was a good path. In that moment, he’d lost all illusions of being in charge of his life. He’d literally fallen to his knees, wept, and prayed that God would hear his cry.
He wasn’t alone. As the sky blackened and the water rose, he and Madelyn had clung to their faith and to one another in a darkened room, sitting among strangers who would become their lifelong friends.
Strangers like Moose.
Charlie came back to the present with a start.
Memories were fine, but he needed to get moving. Unlocking his front door, he saw the bag and box in the entry hall. Why had he left them there? He should have put them in the truck when he left that morning. He should have understood how quickly the situation could deteriorate.
Small beams of light slipped through the spaces where the plywood met.
Rain drops tapped a beat of urgency against the roof.
Quitz barked and snagged her favorite toy from the box of supplies. Standing in the doorway, her tail beating a rhythm of urgency, she waited for Charlie.
There was something he was forgetting, though. Something he needed to take with him. All of his important papers were in the suitcase, plus what little valuables he kept at the house—mainly some of Madelyn’s jewelry and a book of old coins that had belonged to his father.
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