Whoopie Pie Promise - Book 3 (The Whoopie Pie Juggler: An Amish of Lancaster County Saga series)

by Rebecca Price

  But for now, of course, I have much bigger and more terrible things on my mind.

  * * *

  We ladies all go to visit Lilly, whose mother tells us is resting comfortably. While she may not be up for so many visitors, I am allowed to slip in and pay Lilly a little private visit. I’m surprised, because of all of us who are visiting, I’d imagine myself as the least welcome. But apparently when Lilly was told we’re here, she asks for me personally.

  “Hi, Lilly,” I say quietly as I step into the room and close the door behind me. The room is stuffy, too warm, smells like sweat. “How’re you doing?”

  She looks over, barely enough strength to force a smile. “Thanks for coming,” she pushes out. “Any word...on the hunt?”

  “No, Lilly, they just left. We may not hear back for a day or more.”

  “They can’t stay out overnight in the woods, not at this time of year. They’ll all freeze to death.”

  I cross the room toward the bed. “They’re experienced and capable,” I say, “I’m sure they’ll be fine. The bear? I dunno.” I toss out a little chuckle, but it falls flat and Lilly just lays there, glum.

  I say, “You wanted to see me about something?”

  Lilly’s head rolls in the pillow, as if she were shaking her head no. But I realize she’s just trying to clear her mind, find the words she wants to share with me. “I...he...Simon...don’t let go of him, that’s...that’s all I wanted to say. He’s such a good man, and you...you’re a good person, Hannah, I want you to know that I know that. You’re...you’re the kind of person I think I might like to be.”

  “Lilly, I’m not...”

  “But being a good person’s not enough, Hannah! Jessup was a good person, wasn’t he? Such a good person...”

  “Yes, Lilly...”

  “And he didn’t deserve what happened to him, to be attacked like that, eaten alive...”

  “No, Lilly, of course not. And nobody’s certain that...”

  Lilly’s eyes go big, wide, blood draining from her already pale face. “But it wasn’t enough to protect him, wasn’t enough to save him. See what I’m saying? You’ll never be a good enough person, Hannah. None of us will be!”

  “Lilly, don’t you remember Titus 3:5? ‘Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.’”

  Lilly seems to lay back a bit, some sense of comfort apparently enfolding her. But there is no joy in her resolve. She says, “It was my fault. I drove him away...”

  “You said he left angry because of your feelings for Simon. That’s not the same as you driving him away.”

  “But I couldn’t stop him! Because I couldn’t make him see that he was the love of my life. And he was, Hannah, he was the love of my life, my soul mate, like they say...”

  I take her little hand in mine. “I know, Lilly, and I’m so sorry he can’t be here with you now.”

  “Don’t you lose Simon the way I lost Jessup, not that way...”

  I think about Simon, at this moment putting his life on the line to avenge Jessup and to protect the rest of us. I think about him being attacked, devoured, found days later in the same state Jessup was in.

  My blood runs cold.

  I imagine myself in a bed like Lilly, paralyzed by sorrow and misery, shattered by loss. If I lose Simon, I have to wonder, will I just fall apart the way Lilly has?

  Probably, have to admit. He’s the love of my life. And without that love, what good is the life?

  “He...he was the love of my life...” Lilly keeps saying, her eyes drifting from mine, as if she’s addressing an invisible person standing right next to me.

  Jesus, I think to myself, or God maybe.

  Hopefully.

  I release Lilly’s hand and step away, toward the door. Poor Lilly, I think, she may never recover from this. I know madness, I’ve seen it up-close, but even Rebecca in her worst condition didn’t have that wild burning I see in Lilly’s eyes, that desperation, that utter and total loss that could shatter even the strongest spirit and crush even the most resilient will.

  But I take heed of what Lilly has said, and her words ring in my mind after I’ve left her room and rejoined the others.

  “Don’t lose Simon, the way I lost Jessup.”

  I only hope to have a choice.

  * * *

  The day passes slowly, agonizingly slowly. It’s almost a kind of torture, waiting for the news to return with our men. But what news will it be? I have to wonder. And how many of our men will return?

  I put my faith in God, of course, to protect them and bring them back safely. I pray that God’s will does include the return of our men, safe and sound, with the life of that dangerous animal in their hands. I feel badly about trying to protect the creature now, in a way. I know that I was only driven by good intentions, that to take a life, especially a life upon which other young lives depend, just doesn’t feel godly to me now and it didn’t then. So I spoke out.

  Stupid, I have to tell myself. When ultimately you’re willing to sacrifice your own husband and father, and even your kid brother if that had been possible, to see the animal killed. Now you hope and pray for that death.

  No, I have to contradict myself. I hope for the peaceful return of our men, and if that means the death of the bear then so be it. The life of an animal, of any living thing, is a precious thing, but no animal life is equal to a human life, even if they both are created by the same God. I don’t claim to know all the ways of God or even of man, but I don’t need to know them either. Job 40:1 reminds me, Shall he that contendeth with the Almighty instruct him? he that reproveth God, let him answer it.

  So I pray that God’s will and my own will intertwine, and I praise God for the blessings and the safety and protection he has already heaped upon Simon and the others. I know that to pray for something more than once is like telling God you’re not confident that He heard you the first time. So, like Elijah the prophet, who praised God for the rain to come while still well in the drought, I thank God in advance for the outcome I am certain He has already arranged.

  I move past prayer to praise.

  But the end of the day brings the results of the day’s hunt, and neither prayer nor praise seem to have done very much good.

  CHAPTER THREE

  All four carriages roll back into town under the Lancaster moon. It’s been dark for several hours, an ominous sign.

  Each carriage goes straight to the residence of its owner, except for Simon’s, who brings Beau in. Daed’s carriage returns to our family home. Simon knows we’re waiting there.

  Together.

  When we hear the carriage wheels and the horses clopping outside, Rebecca, Mamm, Abram, and I hurry to the front door. Gramm is with us, but she’s too old to hurry up anywhere. She does waddle out to join us on the porch. My blood rushes with warm relief to see Daed unhurt.

  “Where’s Simon?” I ask Daed.

  “And Beau,” Rebecca adds, “where are the boys?”

  Daed looks solemnly at Rebecca as he walks toward us on the porch, leaving the carriage idle in front of the house. “Simon is fine, he’s got Beau with him. But, Rebecca...” he adds, softly and slowly, “Beau was hurt.”

  “What?! Oh no, Daed, no!”

  “He’s alive,” Daed says, “we think he may be okay.”

  “May be?!” Rebecca repeats.

  “Simon’s taking him to Lancaster County General. I thought...I’d take you there now.”

  Rebecca stands there, slipping into what seems like a state of shock. “Rebecca,” I say, crossing to her, setting my hands on her arms, “take it easy now, you heard Daed. He may be okay.” I turn to Daed. “What happened, exactly?”

  “I’ll explain all that in due time. Right now we probably shouldn’t tarry, get to the hospital right away.” My daed’s urgency concerns me, of course, and the gravelly dread in his voice. My mamm is already by his side, where she almost
always is and where she clearly belongs. He turns to her. “Olaf Thompson’s calling Beau’s parents to meet us there. Will you come with us and allow Abram to stay here Simon's gramm?”

  “Of course, dear,” Mamm says, nodding and tapping his ample chest, “right away.” She leans in and gives him a little kiss on the cheek, whispering, “So glad you’re home.” With that, Gramm and Abram walk back into the house.

  Rebecca, Mamm and I climb into the carriage and Daed shakes the reins, Adeline pulling us around and back toward the street.

  Lancaster General Hospital isn’t far.

  But I know I have to wait until we get there to hear the story of the hunt. Daed doesn’t want to go into the details with Rebecca so near. He doesn’t want to frighten or worry her further, and I know it must be because of the horrors of the hunt and perhaps the seriousness of Beau’s injuries.

  My mind reels with hideous images, blood splashing, guns barking their deadly battle cries as their bullets come leaping out of the barrels, accidentally plunging into the unwitting flesh of one of our own.

  No, I tell myself, don’t even think it. If Beau’s in the hospital, things are at least a little better than they might have turned out. Be patient, be faithful, and all will be revealed. And once that happens, there’ll be no turning back.

  Well, I have to remind myself, there’s really no turning back now anyway.

  Once at the hospital, we hurry to the emergency room waiting area, where we find Olaf Thompson and his wife Ethel, as well as Ruth and Samuel Thompson. Samuel and Olaf quietly confer, while Ruth stares holes into the back of Samuel’s head.

  We enter, and Ruth hurries toward us. She embraces Rebecca, who returns her affection. How quickly their relationship is evolving, I can’t help but notice. Thank God, because any further progress in the other direction and I don’t think Rebecca would be able to stand marrying Beau.

  Now that may not happen anyway, I have to remind myself, before once again reprimanding myself with, No, Hannah, stay positive!

  Ruth says to Rebecca, “How are you doing, you holding up okay?” Rebecca nods with a grateful smile, a few tears rolling down her cheeks which Ruth is quick to wipe away.

  Rebecca asks, “How are you two?”

  “Well, not good, Rebecca, I’m sorry to say. I mean, I’m trying to be strong...” Ruth turns and casts a judgmental glare at Samuel. “But he’s just a weakling, so I have to be strong for us both.”

  I look over at Samuel and so does Rebecca. Speaking quietly with Olaf, Samuel is bent further forward than usual, his head lower on his slender shoulders. His somber expression is tearless, however, and he seems in control enough to carry on a conversation with Olaf, his brother.

  Rebecca says to Ruth what I’m thinking to myself. “He seems like he’s holding up okay.”

  Ruth shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “If he weren’t such a ninny, he’d have gone and my boy wouldn’t be fighting for his life!”

  Rebecca’s expression falls even further. “Fighting...for his life?”

  I drift closer to Rebecca, ready to comfort her in the face of this new and terrible news. She asks, “What happened to him? What did that bear do?”

  Ruth’s shoulders reach up toward the bottoms of her ears. “They didn’t go into details, hon. There wasn’t time, he lost so much blood.”

  We all stand in the quiet realization of how bad Beau’s situation is, and how gloomy Rebecca’s future appears.

  Ruth turns to Daed. “You were there, Hyamm, you saw what happened.”

  Daed glances at Rebecca, then shrugs. “I don’t think it’s the right time to...”

  “No, Daed,” Rebecca says as she clings to me, “I want to know.” After a tense little pause, she adds, “I have to know. Please!?”

  Daed looks at us, our eyes falling expectantly upon him. He takes a deep breath, wraps his arm tighter around my mamm, and begins the tale.

  “I can’t lie,” he says, his voice cloaked in dark overtones, “there’s nothing very pretty about what happened out there.” As he speaks, I can feel the chill of the foothills tracing up my spine, bringing my imagination to that isolated patch of woodlands where their adversary was waiting, watching, knowing perhaps that its enemies were coming for its life.

  “We took the carriages up as far as we could, going onward by foot. The dogs lead us, following the scent that we’d recovered from...” Rebecca gasps a bit, sensitive to the gruesome inference. “They were quick to jump into the hunt, and we were quickly strained just to keep up. Up and down those gullies, sticks and rocks and brambles everywhere. Stanley stepped into the carcass of a half-eaten deer...”

  “Oh. Hyamm...” my Mamm can’t help but say.

  “The dogs ran deeper into the hills,” my Daed goes on, setting his hand on Mamm’s to calm her. “I thought I saw the beast, over the ridge, and raised my rifle to take the shot.”

  I imagine him doing it, standing on that gritty hillside, the rifle jutting out in front of him, steady in his mighty grip.

  Bam! Click. Bam! Yellow bursts leave smokey traces in front of him as Daed lowers the rifle to assess the damage.

  “A clean miss,” Daed says, “both shots. But the dogs were barking, so I knew we had her on the run.”

  “No sign of the cubs,” I say, unable to help myself.

  Daed shakes his head. “Nor the mother. I’ve never seen a creature of such a size be so quick, darting in and out of the wood. I almost think it was ... toying with us, luring us in. That’s when I heard the first dog cry out, a terrible wail. Then another, but the first was silent. Dead, of course. Now all the dogs were barking, a caterwaul that was, like...demons, is all I can say.”

  A long, steady silence passes as Daed stares into his memory. “Olaf here found the first dog, and by then that damned bear was gone again.”

  “How horrible,” Rebecca says. “Worse, we had no way of tracking the beast, but couldn’t stop. We had to keep going. We followed it as quickly as we could, the hill rising up in front of us, trying to keep us out, protecting the bear, it seemed.”

  I can picture them as they scramble up the hill, the tangled roots at their feet, reaching up to grab them as if they were the fingers of some Earth spirit, wanting to entwine them, ensnare them, pin them down for the bear to devour at its leisure.

  Is that how it happened with Jessup? I have to wonder, but of course I let it go unspoken. No trace of his horse was ever found, and Jessup never lived to tell the tale, so the details of his last hours will remain a mystery.

  But that’s not what matters now.

  Daed says, “Another few shots into the hills and we ran after it.”

  Simon adds, “Beau and I had taken after the bear, so this is where I lost track of what was happening with Hyamm.”

  Daed nods. “I heard a terrible snap behind me, and I knew it wasn’t any fallen branch. I turned just as the man Edward, you know him, from the livery, was lying on his back, his foot caught in a log, calf cracked at an angle that...” He takes a breath, then adds, “Sufficient to push the shattered bone out through the flesh.”

  I close my eyes, the gruesome sight embedded in my imagination. He goes on, “We ran to him, me and Olaf and a few others. Just to move him a few inches caused him to scream into his teeth, lips nearly splitting as he pulled them back, hissing out his mortal agony. He knew a scream would bring that bear around, and he was in no condition to face it.”

  I can imagine them, gathered around the wounded, bleeding man. “We have to get him back to the carriage,” my Daed says. Olaf agrees with a nod.

  But another man, Erick, says, “We should split up, we might have a few shots in her. We have to press on.”

  My mind occupies two planes now - the hospital waiting room, and the thick, hazy foothills where the day’s hunt for the bear reoccurs in the telling, in the imagining.

  But it could never be as terrible to hear as it must have been to experience.

  Daed says, “But I knew that Simon and
Beau had pushed on, and they couldn’t be left alone. So I suggested Olaf here take Edward back with another man for guard. But Edward needed two men just to move him, and a third was needed to guard them in case the bear came back. That left me and Erick and the two lads.”

  Simon opens his mouth to speak, I presume to make some objection to being called a lad. But he doesn’t. And I’m glad. I say, “Half the hunting party, with not a single dog to track the creature, and you still went forward.” I turn to glare at Simon. “Why not just come back together?”

  Simon shakes his head. “We didn’t even know Edward was hurt, we were off after the bear. Frankly, I thought everybody was behind us as we went over that next ridge, where the trout stream is. Turned around and saw that we were alone, my blood ran cold. I shouted to Beau that we should stop, turn around. I didn’t know what had happened to the others, I thought maybe the bear had hit us from behind, taken them all out.” Simon pauses. He opens his mouth to speak and again says nothing, but this time it is memory that stifles him.

  He says, “I was about to call out, when I heard a rifle shot, and then his scream. The bear’s roar ...” Ruth turns to clutch Samuel but stops herself, wrapping her arms around her own body as Samuel stands there, bent and twisted like a rotting tree that never truly took root. “He’d already fallen, and the bear had withdrawn into the woods. I shot at it twice before running to Beau. The gash across his belly, I...I can only imagine that he happened upon the beast, or it was waiting in ambush, but it only had time for that single swipe, thank God.”

  Even Daed is respectfully silent as Simon tells his part of the terrible tale. “I picked him up, had to carry him face-up, of course, lest...” He pauses, unwilling or unable to be more gruesomely specific. He doesn’t need to be. “Anyway, it wasn’t an easy trek; feet slipping in that muck, Beau groaning and bleeding. I was praying for the strength to make it over that hill. “'Just help me over the hill, Lord', I prayed, 'just strength enough to get our brother back over that hill.' I remember thinking the whole time that the bear was going to rise up behind me, bring me down with another great swipe of his paw, tearing my back open, rending us both an easy meal.”