by Perry, Marta
Caleb pulled out a chair for Sara at the kitchen table and sat down opposite her. She studied his face, looking for a clue to his feelings.
“At least now we know what Rachel saw.” His voice was heavy with regret. “For my child to see a person fall to his death... No wonder she’s been having nightmares.”
“And no wonder she didn’t want to say anything. I suppose trying to talk about it made it too real. But bad as it is, it sounds as if Kovatch fell accidentally, don’t you think?” Sara tried to cling to the one bright spot in the whole business.
Caleb frowned. “That’s not what Rachel thinks. She said the other man pointed at him and made him fall.”
“Ya, but...” Sara struggled to make it fit. “We know he wasn’t shot. It might have been coincidental, his pointing just when Kovatch tripped.”
Caleb shifted restlessly in his chair, as if possessed of the need to do something, anything, to resolve this tangle. “If that’s so, why hasn’t the other man come forward?”
“I can’t imagine.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “To see someone fall and not try to get help for him—that’s incredible.”
“If the two of them were up to no good, I suppose that might account for it,” Caleb said. “At least that’s for the police to figure out.”
She nodded. This was one situation she’d be happy to leave to the authorities. “Chief O’Brian said he’d stop by my daed’s tonight to hear what I learned.” She hesitated, not sure he was going to like what else she had to say. “Daed also insisted we must inform the bishop, before he hears about my being involved from someone else.”
Caleb’s lips tightened, but he nodded. “I can understand his wanting to explain the police being at his house. It’s not what we’re used to.”
Nothing about this situation was remotely common in her usually quiet life, that was certain sure. “I’m sure Rachel has told all she knows, and that’s what I’ll say to Chief O’Brian. There’s no point in his troubling her with any questions.”
“Ya. Danki, Sara,” he added.
“As for her confusing the Old Man of the cliff with the person she saw, that’s probably natural at her age. Most likely she heard one of the kinner say something about Der Alte shortly before she saw the accident and mixed them up in her mind.”
Caleb nodded, but he didn’t really look relieved. She could hardly blame him.
“You did a gut job of reassuring her. I’m grateful to you, Sara.” The bleakness of his face extended to his eyes. “I could not have done as well. I couldn’t even get her to tell me.”
His pain seemed to wrench her heart. He needed reassurance as much as Rachel had, it seemed. “Sometimes it’s easier for a child to talk to someone other than a parent, that’s all. I remember telling my mammi things I didn’t want to tell Mamm.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t look comforted. “My little Rachel has had so much sorrow in her life, with her mamm sick for so long. But at least we used to be close. Since her mamm died, she’s been so withdrawn.”
“Even when we know it’s coming, death is a shock.” Sara picked her words carefully. “And children get funny ideas sometimes about what caused it.”
“I thought bringing her here would help her forget.” The words came out explosively, and his hands clenched into fists. “Instead I made it worse.”
“Ach, Caleb, you mustn’t blame yourself.” She touched his taut fist tentatively, wanting only to comfort him. “I don’t think it’s possible to forget the passing of those we love, even for a child.” She hesitated, afraid she might be going too far, but he needed help so badly. “Have you talked with her about it?”
He seemed to draw away. “Not much.” His voice was choked. “It’s too hard.”
Her heart ached for him and for Rachel. “I know. But it might help Rachel heal if you could talk, even a little, about how you feel.”
“No.” His facial expression seemed to close and his voice grew harsh. “I won’t expose her to my grief. She’s only a child. Don’t you see that?”
“I know. I just want to help,” she said, keeping her tone gentle. If he had to be angry with someone over what had happened, it might as well be her.
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his hand over his face, as if trying to chase away the tension. “I should not have snapped at you. You are the best thing that’s happened since we came here. For Rachel, I mean,” he added quickly.
“She’s a dear child. How could I help loving her?”
Caleb almost smiled. “You have plenty of love for your scholars. Anyone can see that. But you haven’t...” He let that sentence die out, but she suspected she knew where it had been headed.
“Haven’t married?” She wouldn’t hide from it, as if it had been her fault. “I was supposed to be wed once. But it seemed Tommy always had something to do first—finish his apprenticeship, save some money, get experience with a job in Ohio—and then when he did marry, it was to someone else.”
It was his turn to touch her hand now. “He must have been ferhoodled.”
She shrugged. “Folks thought I should be heartbroken. But by then, I was busy with my teaching. I found my happiness with my scholars, and I didn’t look for anything else.”
She still didn’t, did she? She was suddenly aware of how alone they were in the quiet kitchen, with Caleb’s hand clasping hers so warmly.
“I...I should go home,” she stammered. “They’ll be wondering why I’m so long.”
“Ya.” He let go of her hand and stood, turning to take her jacket from the hook on the wall. “I don’t like thinking of you driving back by yourself.”
“Ach, the evenings are long this time of year. It’s not near dark yet, and I’m going less than two miles down the road.”
He glanced at the window and then nodded, holding the jacket as she slipped it on. He paused for a moment, his hands on her shoulders, and when she looked up, his face was very close to hers, his gaze warm on her face.
Her breath caught, and she couldn’t have moved to save herself. They stood so for an endless moment. Then Caleb was turning away, opening the door for her, careful not to look at her.
“Good night, Caleb,” she said quickly and hurried out of the house, her cheeks hot, trying to figure out what had just happened.
SEVEN
Sara reached the end of Caleb’s lane before her brain started working again. Fortunately Star could find her way home from just about any place Sara drove her.
Small wonder her thoughts were in such a jumble. She had never felt anything like those moments when she and Caleb looked into each other’s eyes. The feelings she’d once had for Tommy Miller seemed like boy-and-girl foolishness in comparison.
Sara bit her lip as she turned toward home on the narrow blacktop road. And speaking of foolish—wasn’t that what she was being right this very minute? Caleb probably felt nothing more than gratitude for her help with Rachel. She couldn’t build that into romance, and she certain sure couldn’t let Caleb see what she felt.
Star trotted along comfortably, unconcerned with the tumult in Sara’s heart. Star wouldn’t blink an eye even if a car whizzed past with its horn honking, something Englisch teens sometimes did out of mischief, but there was no traffic on the road at the moment.
Sara glanced toward the western ridge. As she’d told Caleb, it wasn’t really dark. The sun was just beginning to slip behind the ridge, painting the sky with a vibrant splash of pink and purple. She feasted her eyes on the sight, letting God’s handiwork soothe her troubled spirit.
Whatever happened or didn’t happen with Caleb would be God’s will, and she would accept it. If she was meant to end her days teaching other people’s kinner, that was still a high calling. All she could do was her humble best.
She’d nearly reached the lane to the schoolhouse when she realized that the reference book she’d intended to bring home still lay on the corner of her desk. She’d be hard put to prepare tomorrow’s geography lesson for the eighth g
raders without it. A bright group, they constantly challenged her. She loved them for it, but she didn’t want to let them get ahead of her.
With an inward sigh, she tugged on the line, signaling Star to turn into the schoolhouse lane. The flicker of Star’s right ear showed the mare’s annoyance at being kept any longer from her stall and her supper, but she turned obediently.
Well, this would only take a moment. Sara would still reach home well before dark. She had to admit that she’d grown a bit wary of being outside alone after dark these past few days.
The playground looked lonely without the kinner, but it seemed to Sara that she could almost hear the echoes of their voices. She toyed with the notion, half smiling as she thought of the generations of young ones who’d attended the Beaver Creek School. Had they all left echoes of themselves here?
Star came to a halt at the porch, and Sara slid down from the buggy seat. She patted the mare affectionately.
“I’ll just be a minute, no more. Then we’ll go home, ya?”
The mare’s head moved, jingling the harness, as if nodding in agreement.
Sara had the key ready in her hand, and she unlocked the door and stepped inside, letting it swing closed behind her, her thoughts on the book. She hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps toward the front of the room before she realized her mistake.
Outside, it was still plenty light, but in the schoolroom, with the shades pulled down as she always left them, the darkness was nearly complete.
She took another step and walked smack into a desk. Her breath caught. Ach, objects always seemed to move from their places in the dark. She felt disoriented. She’d have to feel her way back to the door and prop it open. Then she’d have enough light for her errand.
With her hand on the nearest desk, Sara made her way back down the row, stretching her hand out in front of her to feel for the door. Her fingertips touched the wooden frame, and she slid her hand down until she grasped the knob.
The door creaked a little as she pulled it open. Then she heard what sounded like a rush of feet behind her, setting her heart pounding. She spun, instinctively shielding her face with her arm. Something hard struck the side of her head, and pain exploded, taking her breath away. She stumbled a few steps and fell heavily, her outflung arm hitting a desk, adding another layer of pain.
Sara gasped for breath, curled onto her side, unable to move. But she had to move. Panic surged along her nerves. She had to move, had to try to defend herself. She couldn’t lie here helpless. If he came after her—
But even as she fought her way to her hands and knees, she realized that the footsteps were receding, not coming closer. He was rushing out the door, his feet now pounding on the porch.
Sara lunged forward, determined to get at least a glimpse of him. She grabbed the door frame, her head spinning, and tried to focus her eyes.
He was running toward the patch of woods to the side of the school. In a moment he’d vanished, but not before Sara recognized him. It was the man who’d been in the schoolroom on Saturday.
Fresh fear trickled through her. She tried to stand, discovered her legs wouldn’t support her, and sat down abruptly on the porch floor. Star, seeming to know something was wrong, whickered anxiously.
“I’ll be all right,” she said, more to hear the sound of her own voice than to reassure the mare. “He’s gone.”
But he could come back. Remembering how he’d looked at her brought a wave of nausea. Or maybe that was only the effect of the blow. She raised her hand to her head, vaguely surprised that she didn’t seem to be bleeding. A lump had already risen on her head, but her bonnet must have protected her from the worst of it.
She couldn’t just sit here, hoping he didn’t come back. She had to get to safety.
Suppressing a moan, Sara clutched the railing and half crawled, half fell down the steps. Reaching the buggy, she clung to the edge of the seat, not sure how she was going to climb up. But if she didn’t, if the man came back—
That was enough to propel her into the seat. She fumbled for the lines, a fresh wave of dizziness sweeping over her. Something roared in the distance.
Hold on. She had to hold on. She snapped the lines and clicked to Star. The mare started off at a trot, throwing Sara off balance so that she slid sideways on the seat. It didn’t matter. She rested her throbbing head against the padded seat. Star would take her home.
*
The noise alerted Caleb. Not that it was strange to hear a siren on the country road—police after a speeder or an ambulance rushing to the hospital. Still, he couldn’t deny that he’d had an uneasy feeling since Sara had left.
He stepped out onto the porch, looking toward the sound. His heart jolted. Flashing lights sped down the lane toward the schoolhouse.
Wheeling, he strode into the house. Onkel Josiah looked up. “Was ist letz?” He tossed his paper aside and reached for his crutch.
“I don’t know. Something at the schoolhouse.” Caleb grabbed a flashlight from the drawer. “I must go. You’ll be all right with Rachel?”
“Ya, ya, fine. Go.” Onkel Josiah waved a hand as if to hurry him.
Caleb was outside in less than a minute. No point in harnessing the mare—he could be there faster on foot. He set off at a jog along the path, which was shorter than going clear out to the road.
And all the while he ran, the circle of light from his flashlight bobbing ahead of him, wordless prayers lifted from his heart.
Sara. He should never have allowed Sara to go home alone. If she was in danger, hurt, even worse... His mind wouldn’t allow him to go any further in that direction.
Sara would be all right. She must be. It was over an hour since she’d left his house. She should have been home in no more than ten minutes or so.
But all the logic in the world couldn’t help when he burst into the clearing around the school and saw the police cars pulled up at the door, their lights circling, flashing on the school, then the playground. He thundered up the stairs to the porch and burst into the schoolroom, heedless of the young patrolman who held out an arm to stop him.
“What’s happened? Sara—” Before he could say more he spotted her, standing next to her father on the other side of the room. She looked pale, shaken, but otherwise whole, thank the Lord.
Ignoring Chief O’Brian and several other men who were clustered around the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, Caleb hurried to Sara.
“Are you all right? What happened?” He spared a quick nod for her father, but all his attention was on Sara. She was so pale, she looked as if she’d pass out, and his heart lurched.
“I’m safe.” She tried to manage a smile, but it wasn’t very successful. “Just a lump on my head and a few bruises, that’s all.”
“How?” He wanted to take her arm but he couldn’t, not with her father right there and everyone in the schoolroom, it seemed, looking at him.
“Sara’s going to be fine,” Chief O’Brian said, but his ruddy face was strained. “She stopped at the school for something and interrupted an intruder.” He glanced at the police photographer, who was taking pictures of the books and papers that must have been swept from Sara’s desk. “A vandal, maybe.”
If the chief thought this a matter of random vandalism after all that had happened, Caleb didn’t think much of his intelligence. But O’Brian’s warning glance suggested that he didn’t want to have a conversation on this subject with an audience.
Caleb nodded slightly. Just as well not to make everything they knew public, especially since Rachel... His heart cramped at the thought of his child.
“Sara looks as if she’d be better off at home,” he said.
Eli Esch broke in. “Ya, that is chust what I was saying, too.”
“Now, folks, just take it easy. Sara agreed to come over and see if anything’s missing. Isn’t that right, Sara? Just as soon as the photos are done, she can take a quick check and then go off home to her mamm.” O’Brian turned back to his officer
s.
“It won’t be long,” Sara murmured. “I can wait.”
“At least you don’t need to stand.” Ignoring the others, Caleb seized a straight chair that stood against the wall and brought it over to her. “Komm. Sit.”
Sara sank into the chair gratefully. “Danki.”
“I should never have let you drive home alone,” he said, keeping his voice low.
Sara shook her head and then winced. “My fault, not yours. I stopped for a book, not thinking how dark it would be inside the schoolhouse. There was someone here. He knocked me down trying to get away.”
Caleb felt sure she was trying to minimize what had happened. She must have been terrified, alone here at the man’s mercy. “Did you see who it was?”
“Ya.” Her voice trembled a little. “Sammy Moore. The man who was in the schoolroom at the auction.”
“You told the chief?”
She nodded. “He said he’s been looking for the man ever since I first told him about it.”
Sara’s father entered the conversation. “He hasn’t been able to find him.” Eli’s face tightened, reminding Caleb that Sara was his daughter, and no doubt he was just as shaken by the danger to her as Caleb was about Rachel.
“Did you tell the chief what Rachel said?” Caleb asked softly. If he knew that, the chief certain sure wouldn’t talk about vandalism. The Amish were used to periodic acts of vandalism against them. This was something much worse.
“Not yet. I haven’t had a chance.” He could see the same worry in her eyes that he knew was reflected in his.
“All right, now, Sara.” Chief O’Brian waved his people away from the desk. “You just take your time looking at everything, but don’t touch any more than you have to. Let me know if anything is missing.”
Sara’s father took her arm protectively and walked with her to the desk. She just stood there, studying everything as if making a silent inventory.
They’d have to tell O’Brian what Rachel had said. Caleb’s jaw clenched. At least they could be sure now that someone had been up on the cliff with Kovatch. Most likely that someone was this fellow Moore.
