Abram adds, “So I thought, maybe a police detective, or government agent...”
“Government...? Police...?” The words spill out from Mamm’s lips in a stunned and sputtering stream of confusion and horror. Not only are these the big Englischer organizations that our community avoids, but they are very much too dangerous for Mamm to consider as a career for Abram. She’d come too long without embracing him, without being his proper mamm. The idea of losing him to some stray bullet or, worse, one meant for him, is more than she can process.
Luckily, she doesn’t have to.
Abram goes on to say, “But, frankly, after the whole egg thing, I think I might really have something. I mean, I don’t think I could live as a street performer, but...maybe as a standup comic?”
“Standup comic? Oh Lord!”
“...Or a magician maybe, in Vegas or on cruise ships.”
Mamm begins to feel lightheaded. She leans against the broom, then sags into a seat on the arm of the couch, just a few feet from Abram. “Cruise ships, heaven help us...”
Abram says, “Anyway, I’ve got some time to think about it. I’m fourteen, and the Englischers don’t usually accomplish much before they’re in their twenties. So maybe I’ll just work on a few things, help Daed with the farm, who knows?”
Mamm smiles, at his flexibility and maturity. She puts her hand on his shoulder and turns to him. “But, whatever you do, you...” She takes a deep breath. “You won’t be staying here with us, will you?”
Abram considers it for a moment, reaching up to put his hand on hers. “I dunno, Mamm. But I’ll tell you this; up until we came here to Lancaster, the answer would have been no, and I wouldn’t have thought twice.”
Mamm nods, understanding his answer and all that it implies. She says, “I know, honey. And I realize that, well, that it’s partly my fault, that you can’t stand to be here...”
“I didn’t say that, Mamm
“You don't have to! How could you feel any other way? All these years I neglected you, turned away when you needed me. Your daed said it was best for you, that it would make you stronger. And I wanted to believe that he was right. I wanted to think I was doing the right thing.”
“And we’re turning out okay, don’t you think? Look at Hannah, she’s really coming into her own...”
“Despite us,” Mamm says, “not because of us! But I don’t want that for you, Abram, to survive or succeed only because of what we haven’t been to you. It isn’t fair, it’s never been fair.”
“Life isn’t always very fair, Mamm. But it is life, and we have that to be grateful for it.”
Mamm leans over and gives him a big hug, holding his maturing body as if (and perhaps) for the last time. The boy she’s barely known is already gone, replaced by the budding young man. And she’s desperate for another chance to know him, to like him, and to have him know and like her.
While there’s still time.
She says, “How did you become so wise and mature and your tender age?”
Abram shrugs. “Hannah.”
* * *
I take the carriage back to pick up Rebecca. She’s been at the hospital too long, everyone in the family agrees. We love how much she loves him, but she’s got to get some rest in a proper bed.
And if she won’t leave his side, which I suspect she won’t, I’ve brought extra blankets, pillows, some warm cocoa and a few Whoopie pies for us to enjoy in the mean time. I’ll sit with her all day and stay over if I have to. I’ve come to really enjoy the time I spend with Rebecca. It’s so nice to have a second chance with her and our parents.
And though I try not to be prideful, I can’t help but take some measure of satisfaction from knowing that I was instrumental in bringing the family together, and that in doing so, I’ve helped everyone flourish in a safer, better environment. Abram’s skills have never been better, and his work ethic has never been keener. His body is developing, from the lanky awkwardness of a child to the muscled contours of a man. Daed is growing too; he’s almost like a new person.
Almost.
And Rebecca, so dedicated to Beau, so eager to move through her challenges and become the person we all know she can be: responsible, reliable.
Gone.
I’m not surprised to see that Ruth at Beau’s bedside, but I am shocked to hear that Rebecca has gone off with Lilly just about an hour before. Lilly said she was taking Rebecca home.
But they never arrive.
It doesn’t take me long to figure it out, but I have to be sure. I push that carriage as fast as our mare’ll take it to Lilly’s parents’ house. She may have meant her own family house, I reason, or Ruth might have gotten it wrong or misunderstood.
But Lilly’s parents are surprised. Lilly told them hours before she was on her way to visit Beau. It’s nearly twelve noon.
I avoid explaining myself to Lilly’s parents and make a beeline directly for my house. I know what’s happened, and I know what needs to be done.
But I can’t do it alone.
* * *
I pick Simon up at the construction site, without explanation. There isn’t time. But I do explain on the way, and my loving and caring husband is not easy to convince. By the time I get him to the Schroeder farm, we face the daunting task of convincing Daed, which will be the only thing harder than the events which will surely follow.
“Absolutely not,” my daed says, Mamm nodding by his side.
I say, “We don’t have time to sit here and argue, Daed. Rebecca is out there right now with Lilly, getting closer and closer to that murderous creature every minute we waste!”
“Simon and I will go alone then.”
“Just the two of you?” he asks. “There’s not enough of you.”
“Well get more of the men...” he says.
“There’s no time!” I insist. “By the time we hold a meeting and convince Olaf and all the rest of them, it could be too late, Daed! This is Rebecca we’re talking about, our Rebecca. We have to go out and save her, right now!”
Daed looks at Simon in near disbelief. “You’re all right with this?” Simon nods silently, a measured blink helping to make his point.
As if to make sure the point is made, I say, “I’m not here to ask for your permission, Daed. I’m here to ask for your help.”
“You have it. But you’re not going anywhere!”
“I’m as good a shot as anybody in town, and I’m here now.” I stare at my daed, unable and unwilling to be deterred. He stares back at me, unable to defy me, willing though he may be. After a decisive pause, I say, “I’m going out there to find my sister and, if need be, kill that bear. I hope you’ll join us. If not, I insist that you not stand in our way.”
The moment stretches out between us, too wide and too long. There’s no time to waste, and my daed seems to understand that as well as I do, as well as any of us. He nods, my Mamm covering her gasp with her trembling fingers.
I turn to say, “Abram, get your rifle.”
“No!” Mamm cries out.
“I can do it, Mamm, I know I can kill that thing.”
“He can certainly help,” I say.
Daed says to me, “You’d bring a boy with us into that wood, against that creature? You didn’t see what it did to those dogs...”
“I’m not a dog!” Abram says.
Ignoring him, Daed adds, “But you saw what it did to Beau, and even worse to Jessup.”
I stare my father down. “Now you listen to me; Abram is an excellent shot and a capable young man. You’ve kept him down his whole life; you’ve kept both of us down. But that time is over. You’re going to have to stand back and let us be the people we’ve become, the people you hoped we’d become, the people we became no thanks to you. Now, if you’re concerned about our well-being, come along and protect us. But don’t stand in our way and don’t waste another minute of our time!”
We stare each other down, he taller and stronger, I shorter and smaller and weaker by far.
There’s no contest.
Daed looks at Abram with a determined sneer. “You heard your sister, Abram. Go get your weapon, and any ammo you got.”
Mamm says, “Hyamm!”
Daed turns to her, his icy stare shutting her down. There’s nothing he can say to her, just as, ultimately, there is nothing he can say to me. This isn’t the time for him to be giving the orders. That time has passed.
This time, I’m calling the shots.
CHAPTER SIX
We set out in two carriages; Simon and I in ours, Daed and Abram in one of Daed’s, with Rosalind at the bridle. It’s almost one o’clock, which isn’t a good sign. Darkness falls on these hills at about six in the evening this time of year, and there’s a lot of ground to cover.
And it’s hard to say where they are or how much progress they have or haven’t made on their own. My calculations put them about two hours ahead of us. But there’s only the one mountain road leading from the main highway into the area of the hills where the bear was spotted. Everybody in Lancaster has been talking about it, gossiping about Jessup’s attack or the recent failed hunt led by Olaf and my daed. These things have all happened near or around the trout stream, just a mile or so north of the side road.
So, given Rebecca and Lilly’s fairer physical strengths (they’re both slim and slight, even if Lilly has a little more, um, weight nearer to her center of gravity), we figure that once we find their carriage we can catch up to them on foot within about a half-hour. If we’re lucky, we’ll find them within two hours and be able to drag them home, kicking and screaming if necessary.
But I have to admit to myself, I feel like we haven’t been very lucky so far.
Really? I correct my inner skeptic. Simon’s alive and unhurt, so is Daed. Every man in that hunting party could have been killed, so the fact that any of them came back, much less both members of your own family, should be counted as a blessing!
True, I must reply, but will that luck hold out? Here we are, headed back into the den of the creature, the cave of the dragon, perhaps to lose the same things that I was so blessed to have been spared.
Whether lucky or blessed or doomed or some measure of all three, we ride on into the foothills outside of Lancaster to find my sister and my friend and, if necessary, to kill the bear once and for all.
Or die trying.
We find Lilly’s horse and carriage, the animal skittish, huffing and whinnying. I try to calm it with a few soothing scratches under its chin, but the wide-eyed beast pulls away. It doesn’t want to be comforted.
It’s on high alert.
Daed turns to me, a rifle in each hand. He holds one out for me to retrieve. “Would you like to lead the way, or shall I?”
I cross around the horse and take the Ruger, heavy in my hands. I look around, listening for something, even if I’m not exactly sure what. I see a lower slant to the side of the hill, branches freshly broken.
“Let’s go this way.” I head off, with Simon and Abram behind, Daed taking up the rear.
American larch branches reach out at me from every side, wooden fingers stretching out from gnarled, knotted hands, to grab me and crush me. I put my imagination and my fears aside and I press on.
Keen to everything around me, I don’t pick up any movement. No Lilly, no Rebecca, no bear, there’s just us in a solitary line, snaking up the thickly wooded hill. The smell of moldering forest debris is heavy in the mist, the chill under the canopy of leaves and branches making it at least ten degrees colder.
I shiver a bit, but I’m not entirely sure it’s from the cold alone. There’s a presence in the woods, a vast and intimidating aura of power. It’s a sleeping giant, ready to rise up at any moment from any angle and crush interlopers like us. There are so many ways to die in the wild, including starvation, exposure, illness, injury.
Predators.
Then there’s a sound, only a few dozen yards from us. Leaves rustle, a twig breaks. Daed raises his rifle, nearly firing. But he holds off, and I’m glad. It could just as easily have been one of the girls, though it seems unlikely to me that they’d see us out here in our orange vests and not call out to us.
But it doesn’t matter, because whatever made the sound has vanished. We all look around, fingers at the ready, slowly craning around the rifles, their triggers.
Then another sound, this one louder, a quick scrambling of wood and mulch, another thick branch snapping.
I point and shoot, a flash of brown leaping out from a cluster of Pennsylvania hawthorns. It’s a buck, a two-pointer, early in the mature stage of its life. It staggers, then falls to the mossy ground, thin legs twitching.
I feel terrible, a rush of guilt coursing through me. But I know the life of one deer doesn’t even compare with the importance of a human life. And after the bear, there isn’t an animal in these woods that can draw my attention away from my concern for Rebecca and even Lilly.
Those girls don’t belong out here. It’s easy for me to look around the haunting beauty of this isolated wilderness and think that, probably, none of us truly belongs here. And we should get the girls and get out while we still can.
We proceed up the side of the hill, reaching the crest. More foothills roll out ahead of us, down and up and down again before we can reach the trout stream. But from this view Simon can get a better look with his binoculars. He scans the area slowly, carefully, the rest of us silent as he searches.
Then he stops moving, mouth curling under the binoculars. “I think I got ‘em.”
“Oh thank God,” I say, words wrapped in a relieved sigh. “They’re all right?”
“They look okay from here, it’s hard to tell.” Simon points his rifle up with one hand, the other still holding the binoculars to his face. He shoots the rifle once, birds flocking out of the trees above us, chattering and frightened as the blast echoes against the distant sides of the foothills. Relating their reactions, Simon tells us, “They turned, they heard us. They’re looking around, it looks like...” He lowers the binoculars and turns to us. “Let’s go, we may not have much time!”
We scurry down the other side of the hill, my feet slipping on the wet ground. I look back to see Abram, eyes alert and breathing steady, even. I ask, “How’re you holding up?” He nods but says nothing.
“You be careful up there,” Daed admonishes me. “Keep your eyes forward and your ears open.”
I turn back and keep leading them down the hill.
Even as we inch closer, I feel like the distance is stretching out in front of us, that the girls are getting further and further away. I want to call to them, but I’m worried about the bear hearing my human voice and being attracted to our position. But I also know that Rebecca and Lilly are armed, inexperienced, probably both half-crazed and frightened, even if they won’t admit it to themselves or each other. So me shouting out and attracting their attention is probably not a very safe strategy.
I catch sight of them through the thick foliage, their white bonnets giving them away. A bit closer, I raise my own rifle and fire into the air. At least they’ll know what that is, I reason, but the bear may not. And if it does, it may scare it further off instead of drawing it to us.
But it does draw Rebecca and Lilly’s attention, and they stand locked in the grip of their mania as we approach. Their eyes are big and burning, their mouths quivering little slits of tension and determination.
“Rebecca,” Daed starts, “what on Earth were you thinking, coming out here?” There’s more he can ask, of course: What’s the matter with you? Are you insane?
I’m glad he stops where he does.
Rebecca says, “We’re gonna kill that thing, Daed, we have to! Beau will never recover if we don’t.”
“What? Rebecca that’s...” Once again, Daed stops himself short of saying something unfortunately but unwittingly hurtful. He goes on, “...That’s simply not true, Rebecca.”
I step over to Lilly, whose expression is even more intense. I almost wonder if she reco
gnizes me. “Lilly, we gotta get outta here. This was a very bad idea. Your intentions were good, but -- ”
“Don’t you speak to me,” she says, voice low and growling. She looks at Simon too, no love or warmth in her eyes, only loss, only pain. “Don’t either of you ever speak to me again.”
“Lilly, you’re not in your right mind...”
Simon steps in front of me and looks deep into Lilly’s eyes. “Lilly, listen to me. I know you feel you’ve lost everything...”
“I have! I have lost everything!”
“No, Lilly, you haven’t. You haven’t lost me, not as a friend, and you never will. And you haven’t lost us, you haven’t lost Lancaster. No matter what happens, we’ll always be here for you. Coming out here like this, don’t you see what you’re doing?”
We all stand in silence as Simon opens Lilly’s own mind in front of her and they both (and we all) peek inside.
“This is suicide, Lilly, even if you don’t realize it. You’ve come to a point where you’ve convinced yourself that life’s not worth living, that you’d rather die than go on this way. Alone, rejected...”
Lilly stares off, gazing into the realization that may be too big for her to digest or accept, or live with. “Yes...”
Simon goes on, “But it’s not true, Lilly, and this isn’t what God wants for you.”
“God wants me and Jessup to be together,” Lilly croaks out. “And that’s...”
“That’s what you’d prefer,” Simon says, finishing her thought. “And I understand, Lilly, I really do. But still, you’re alive, and you must see that’s what God wants, not for you to throw yourself into the jaws of some beast, throw your life away.”
“No, Simon, you’re wrong,” Rebecca says, “we came here to kill the bear, not...”
“Maybe you did,” I say, “and maybe Lilly thought that’s what you were doing. But sometimes the mind and the heart have a way of leading us around, thinking and speaking and doing things for us that, under different circumstances, we’d know were wrong. And this is wrong, Rebecca, you must see that now. You and Lilly against a five-hundred pound enormous predator?”
“We have God on our side.”
Whoopie Pie Promise - Book 3 (The Whoopie Pie Juggler: An Amish of Lancaster County Saga series) Page 8
