by Alison Stone
Hannah laughed. “Sure, if you’d like.” Her gaze drifted to Sarah. “Maybe we can take a few inches from your hair, too, Sarah.”
Alarm flitted across Sarah’s bright blue eyes.
“We don’t have to,” Hannah reassured her.
Sarah pressed her lips together, and her nose twitched. She sniffed. “I miss Mem.”
“I miss her terribly, too. She was my little sister.”
“Like me. I’m the little sister,” Emma said, jubilantly.
“And your big sister will keep an eye on you.”
“Yeah, if it wasn’t for me—” Sarah sniffed a few times “— Emma would have left her backpack on the playground when it came time to board the bus.”
“I left it by the school door. I wouldn’t have left it behind,” Emma said in a petulant tone.
“That’s not where I found it. It was behind the tree near the front walk. You’re not supposed to leave the playground.”
“I didn’t.” Emma flared her nose and shook her head at her big sister.
“Stop arguing. Emma, you have to make sure you don’t lose your things.” Hannah couldn’t afford to replace backpacks. She had a job interview with the credit union in town tomorrow. Hopefully her finances would turn around then. The few thousand dollars from the sale of her car wouldn’t hold out forever.
Hannah scooped up the floral backpack Emma had picked out. She gravitated toward an explosion of colors now that she wasn’t restricted to her plain clothing. Sarah’s navy backpack sat next to her little sister’s. Obviously, Sarah was going to take more time.
Hannah planted the bag on the stool and unzipped it. She pulled out Emma’s take-home folder with its glossy cover of cute kittens, a staple of the elementary school set. She opened the folder, and her heart stuttered. An envelope with Hannah’s name scratched in bold letters poked out from one of the pockets.
Relax. Perhaps the teacher had sent home a note.
Her pulse thumped in her ears. The jagged writing didn’t resemble the neat, cursive handwriting of the teacher who had given Hannah a school-supply list last week.
Mouth growing dry, Hannah turned her back to the girls and slipped her finger under the flap of the envelope. Brown hair poked out of it. Nausea clawed at her throat. Emma was talking, but her voice sounded as if it were coming through a tunnel.
“One minute,” Hannah said absentmindedly as she moved toward the window for better lighting. She pulled out a square piece of yellow paper with the words, “Go Home, Englischer.”
Hannah stuffed the paper back into the envelope with the hair—her hair. She cleared her throat and tried to keep her tone calm. “Sarah, help your sister get another snack. There’s milk in the fridge and cookies in the pantry. I have to make a phone call.” The walls of the small apartment grew closer, and a sheen of sweat slicked her palms as she fumbled for her cell phone in her purse.
Hannah was only vaguely aware of Sarah’s complaining. Hannah stepped into the stairwell and dialed Spencer’s cell phone. She knew he wasn’t home.
He answered on one ring.
“The person who attacked me on the farm is at it again.” She fingered the soft strands of hair. “He is not going to stop until I’m gone.”
* * *
Happy to be home, Spencer strolled up the walkway and found Hannah standing behind the screen door.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“This creep is never going to stop, is he? I thought our problems were over when John died.” Hannah’s voice trembled. “Maybe I’m doing the wrong thing. Maybe I should let Lester and Fannie Mae raise the girls. Maybe then all this would stop. The girls would be safe.”
Spencer climbed the porch steps, watching Hannah carefully. Fear radiated from her eyes. He opened the screen door and cupped Hannah’s elbow. “You are not going to let this person chase you away.”
For selfish reasons, he didn’t want her to leave. But was the choice his?
With a shaky hand she offered him an envelope. He opened it and read the note and cursed under his breath. “Let me lock this in my truck.”
When he returned to the porch, Hannah was sitting on the top step, slumped against the post. Her new short bob hung forward, hiding her face. He brushed his fingers across her knee and sat next to her.
Hannah looked up. Her eyes glistened in the late-afternoon sun. “I’m afraid.”
A memory slammed into him. Another mom. Another time. Another family in jeopardy.
“I’m going to make sure nothing happens to you and the girls.”
Spencer had made that promise before. He had promised fourteen-year-old Daniel’s mother he would make sure the boy was safe. And he mistakenly thought that keeping him out of gangs would protect him. He hadn’t counted on finding Daniel dead on the sidewalk outside the corner store. The milk he had purchased for his little brother slung in a plastic bag, its handles twisted around his wrist. All because he had worn the wrong color that day.
Some things were out of his control.
“How are you going to do that? You can’t be with me and the girls all the time,” she said, as if she were reading his mind.
No, no, he couldn’t. Spencer wanted to stand and punch the post, but instead he drew in a deep breath through his nose.
Think rationally.
“Whoever is doing this wants you to leave Apple Creek. Who has a motive?”
Hannah flicked the ends of her hair. “Someone who is willing to lurk in my mother’s basement and cut off my ponytail isn’t exactly dealing with a full deck.” She tucked her hands under her thighs and shuddered.
“Who would want you to leave?” Spencer repeated.
Hannah slowly lifted her eyes. “Fannie Mae and Lester Lapp?”
“You’ve all but given them the farm and the land they wanted,” Spencer said, thinking out loud.
“They want the girls.” All the blood rushed out of her face, leaving her deathly white. “But doesn’t this seem too radical? It made more sense—if you can call it that—when we thought John was harassing me. Could both brothers be equally ruthless?”
Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll talk to Lester again.”
Sitting on the porch step, Hannah leaned forward and covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Her shoulders shook, then she stilled. She pulled her hands away and stared at him. “The person who chopped my hair is probably one of the men who cut the elders’ beards. I can’t see Lester being part of that group.”
“Do we ever truly know what’s in someone’s heart?”
“What have you uncovered about this radical group?” Hannah stretched her legs in front of her and crossed her ankles.
“They left notes in the Amish homes where they cut the beards.” Spencer shifted toward her, icy dread flowing through her veins.
Hannah drew her legs in and hugged her knees. “Notes?”
“The notes were cryptic. One in particular read, ‘remove a wicked person from our midst.’” Spencer scratched his arm. “The Amish men who were attacked didn’t want to talk, and other Amish men claimed the note might refer to the Amish custom of staying separate or apart from outsiders.” He shrugged. “John Lapp had been one of our suspects, but he’s dead.”
Hannah let out a heavy sigh. “I called the school. No one saw anyone hanging around the playground at dismissal.” She scratched the top of her head. “Perhaps whoever did this blended in.”
“I’ll look into it further.” Careful to keep his expression void of emotion, Spencer said, “I have friends and family in Buffalo you and the girls can stay with until we catch this guy.”
Spencer followed Hannah’s gaze as she scanned the neighborhood. Across the street, an older gentleman took his garbage out and d
umped it in a trash can at the side of his house. A few doors down a thin, wiry man cut the grass with a plug-in lawn mower.
Hannah met his gaze. “My harasser could be anyone, couldn’t it?”
Spencer shook his head. “Not anyone. We have to look for someone who has a reason to want you to leave.”
Hannah bit her lower lip. “What if it’s Samuel, angry at me for getting him in trouble with his father?”
Spencer had considered Samuel, but ranked him low on the suspect list. “The tire-slashing incident occurred before you caught Samuel reading in the barn.”
“What if my brother-in-law started to harass me and Samuel continued it?”
“He doesn’t strike me as that kind of kid. But we should consider all possibilities.”
“I like Samuel.” She laughed, a mirthless sound. “I might be too naive, but I hate to think a nice young Amish boy would be set on revenge. That’s not something I’ve seen a lot in the Amish community. They foster forgiveness.”
“The Amish are human. They aren’t perfect.”
She threaded her fingers through her hair. “Tell me about it.”
“What about his father, Willard Fisher?”
“He’s strict, but again, that’s not unusual in an Amish home.” She lifted her eyes heavenward.
“I’ll reach out to Rebecca, again.” Spencer ran a few scenarios through his head.
“No, you can’t put her in jeopardy. If Willard gets wind of this...”
Hannah’s phone rang. Her brow creased. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out. “Hello.” Her expression grew startled. “Yes. Okay. I’ll be right there.”
She ended the call and jumped to her feet.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mem. She’s in the hospital.”
* * *
The hospital doors whirred open. “Are you sure Mrs. Greene doesn’t mind keeping the girls again?” Hannah asked as they strode toward the hospital information desk. Her nerves were fried, and she was grateful Spencer was at her side when she had received the phone call from the hospital.
“Mrs. Greene loves the company. Don’t worry, I told her to stay inside behind locked doors. I’ll have a patrol drive by every thirty minutes.” Spencer slowed, and Hannah glanced over at him; the compassion in his eyes touched her heart. “The girls will be safe. No one knows they are in Mrs. Greene’s apartment.”
A shudder skittered through her. Please Lord, let them be safe.
Spencer asked for her mother’s hospital room information, and the volunteer at the information desk handed them two purple visitor passes, which they slapped on their T-shirts.
Hannah led the way into her mother’s room. She came up short when she found Rebecca sitting in the corner of the room. Her bonnet and gown seemed in stark contrast to the modern room with the TV on the wall and the monitor mounted on a mobile stand next to her mother’s bed.
Hannah’s gaze shifted to her mother. Her eyes were closed, and her head hung at an awkward angle on the raised head of the hospital bed.
“Is she...?”
“She’s sleeping. I don’t know any more. The doctor was waiting for family to arrive.”
“Did you find her?”
Rebecca nodded. “I brought her an apple pie. When no one answered, I went in. She was unconscious on the kitchen floor.”
“She should have never been alone. I should have been there.” Panic made her nauseous.
What was she going to do?
“I ran across to the English neighbors. They called an ambulance. I didn’t know what else to do.” A mix of fear and relief played across Rebecca’s face. Hannah’s poor, sweet friend.
Hannah touched her friend’s arm. “Denki.”
“You’re welcome.” Rebecca drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I should get home. Willard will be looking for his dinner. Mem’s minding the little ones.” Rebecca gave Hannah a watery smile. “Please give your mem my best.”
Rebecca stiffened when she hugged her. “Thank you again.” Hannah gestured to Spencer. “Spencer could drive you home.”
“I’d be happy to,” Spencer said.
Rebecca shook her head. “I’ll call a cab.” She walked toward the door, her footsteps quiet on the tile floor. She slowed in the doorway and turned around. “I miss you. I wish you’d come home.”
“I can’t.” The words got lodged in Hannah’s throat. “Please forgive me, Rebecca, but I have to lead my own life. I’ll make sure Sarah and Emma are raised in faith.”
Rebecca’s features grew pinched. “You have your mem to consider now.”
The walls began to sway, and the room seemed suddenly very hot. “I have a lot to figure out.” Hannah watched as Rebecca left the room.
Hannah pulled up a chair next to the bed and grabbed her mother’s cold hand. She rubbed her thumb across the back of it. Forgetting Spencer was there, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer.
Thank you for sending Rebecca to look in on Mem. Please make her well. She opened her eyes and found Spencer watching her. Fidgeting with the folds of the blankets, she lowered her gaze. Please help me do what’s best for my family. My entire family.
The sound of the door opening drew her attention. A woman in a white lab coat with a stethoscope draped around her neck walked into the room. If Hannah hadn’t been studying the woman’s face, she might have missed the fleeting look of confusion.
Hannah pushed to her feet and extended her hand. “I’m Hannah Wittmer. This is my mother.” Hannah gently squeezed her mother’s hand, trying to explain the familial relationship.
“I’m Dr. Jennings.” The slow cadence of her voice left a question floating in the air-conditioned room.
“I’m not Amish. My mother is.”
The physician seemed to mentally shake herself. “Your mother’s fortunate.”
“Oh?”
“She had a grand-mal seizure. Well...she could have suffered more serious consequences if she had been driving a car or...” The doctor’s voice trailed off. “I’m sorry. I realize the Amish don’t drive cars. It’s a good thing she wasn’t alone.”
Insert knife. Twist.
Hannah let out a shaky breath, not sure what to say.
“We’re going to have to run more tests.”
Hannah nodded. The tips of her fingers felt numb.
“When are you going to run the tests?” Spencer stepped forward.
“Tomorrow morning. I’ve scheduled a CT scan.”
Hannah felt Spencer’s firm hand on the small of her back as if to say, “I’m here. I’m not going to leave you.”
Her mother squeezed her hand. Hannah leaned in. Her mother was awake. “How do you feel, Mem?”
“Gut.” She struggled with the blankets and the IV in the back of her hand.
“Leave it be. You’re in the hospital. Do you remember anything that happened?”
“One side of my mouth was droopy this morning.” Her mother’s words were garbled a bit, as if she were struggling to enunciate.
Hannah glanced at the physician, looking for reassurance. But her serious gaze made Hannah’s heart stop. She didn’t want to say any more for fear of scaring her mother.
“Mrs. Wittmer, I’m your physician. You had a seizure, and we’d like to do more tests in the morning to see what caused it.”
Her mother swiped at the wires running into the back of her hand. “Neh, I want to go home.”
Hannah placed a reassuring hand on her mother’s arm. “Please, Mem.” She searched her mother’s eyes. “Consider it an adventure.” She gave her mother a knowing smile.
Her mother gave her a tepid smile in return. “Some adventure.” She relaxed into the pillow and closed her eyes.
“I’ve scheduled the CT
scan for 8:00 a.m.,” the physician said. “We’ll know more then.”
A knot tightened in Hannah’s gut. Tomorrow they would know more.
Tomorrow.
Hannah couldn’t shake the dread buzzing her nerve endings. She reached up and covered Spencer’s hand on her shoulder. Without Spencer, she would have surely folded under the pressure.
FOURTEEN
The next morning, Emma held Spencer’s hand. She was such an easygoing little kid. Meanwhile, Sarah lagged behind as they meandered the halls of the hospital from the cafeteria to the main lobby. Hannah sat in the corner, her head bowed and her cell phone pressed to her ear. Apparently sensing them, she glanced up and pulled the phone away from her ear. “Hey, there.”
“You missed it.” Spencer smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “They have the best French toast ever.”
“Hmm...” Hannah said, a million miles away. He had seen that look before, the look of a woman trying to make a huge decision. He had seen it in Vicki’s eyes before she told him she hadn’t signed up to be the girlfriend of a cop.
Spencer shook away the thought. Now was not the time to be selfish. Mrs. Wittmer was currently having a CT scan, and Hannah was nervously awaiting the results. One of the nurses promised she’d come find them in the lobby after Hannah’s mother returned from her scan.
Spencer plopped down in the chair next to Hannah and covered her hand with his. “No matter what happens, I’ll help you through this.”
Hannah slowly shifted in her seat. Her knee brushed his. She scooted back; a weary smile crossed her lips. “Thanks for taking the girls to breakfast.”
“My pleasure.”
Hannah opened the bag next to her and pulled out a Laura Ingalls Wilder book. She stretched across and handed it to Sarah. “I think you’d enjoy this book. I picked it up in the hospital gift shop.”
“Dat doesn’t like us to read things without his approval.” Sarah froze, and her eyes locked on her aunt’s as if she had just realized what she said.
“Your mother and I loved this book when we were kids. Since you’re missing school today, I think you should at least read.” In light of the threatening note found in Emma’s backpack, Spencer wanted to keep the girls close.
