by Alison Stone
“Professor Burke,” Rebecca bit out when the silence stretched a little too long. “My son is at a vulnerable time in his life.” She lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, then let it drop. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose him.”
Jake thought long and hard on how he was going to phrase this. Finally, he said, “I don’t know what you want me to do. I thought the point of adult baptism was to allow the young adults in the community to make their own choices.”
“It is...” She paused. “It is. But this is far beyond that. Samuel is a different person since his friend Elmer died. He has become withdrawn. He won’t even let me in his room.”
“Samuel has suffered tremendous loss.” Jake leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Be there for him when he comes around.”
Nodding, Rebecca reached down and picked up her coat, tote bag and umbrella from the floor and balanced them on her lap, as if ready to spring out of his office. She glanced toward the door. “I hear a lot of things at the diner. About both college students and the Amish doing drugs.” She traced the handle of the umbrella. “I fear I’m going to lose him, too.”
“Have you asked Samuel if he’s into drugs?” Jake angled his head, trying to meet her eye. He found himself fascinated by her wide brown eyes and full lips, sweet and innocent without any hint of makeup.
“Yes.” She finally lifted her eyes, deep with worry. “He told me no, but I don’t know if I can trust him to be truthful.”
Jake settled back in his chair, weighing how much to say. “Drugs and alcohol are an issue in the Amish community, but I don’t know if Samuel is involved. You need to talk to your son and keep talking. It’s a rough time in a young Amish man’s life. He has a tough decision looming ahead of him. He needs your support.”
A look akin to disgust wrinkled her nose. “Are you lecturing me in the Amish ways?”
“I’m trying to...” What exactly was he trying to do? Avoid helping her for fear of alienating Samuel? For fear of giving her the wrong advice?
Rebecca held up her hand, stood and took a step toward the door, her frustration evident by her pinched mouth. “I don’t know why I thought you’d understand. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” Did she suspect he was holding something back?
“Would you have been satisfied if I had told you your son’s a drug addict?”
Rebecca eyes flared wide, an emotion straddling fear and my-worst-nightmare-come-true flickered in their depths. “Is he?”
“I have no reason to suspect he is.”
“Can you find out and tell me? Maybe he’ll confide in you. I have lost much in my life—I can’t bear to lose Samuel, too. If he’s made a bad choice, I need to help him before it’s too late. But I want to do it without getting law enforcement involved. If he ended up in prison...” She shook her head. “I’m holding on dearly to all that I have left.”
“I don’t want to lose Samuel’s trust. I can only encourage you to keep trying to reach him.” Jake already knew the devastation of his meddling in Elmer’s life.
“Thanks for your time.” Rebecca’s words came out clipped. She spun around and stormed out of the office.
Jake sat for a moment, replaying the conversation in his head. A subtle thump started behind his eyes. He stood and returned to his chair behind the desk and dialed his assistant’s cell phone number. Tommy picked up on the first ring, his voice hushed. “What’s up?”
“How much do you know about Samuel Fisher? Is he big into the drug or alcohol scene?” His assistant had grown up in the Amish community and had left to earn his GED and eventually go to college. His background gave Tommy an “in” to the sometimes rowdy youngie scene and made him a valuable asset to Jake and his research.
A long pause stretched across the line. For a minute, Jake had thought he’d lost the connection. “Is that who that Amish lady was? Samuel’s mom?”
“Yes.”
“And his mem—” the word sounded foreign on Tommy’s lips, mocking almost “—thinks he’s into drugs and alcohol? Is that why she stopped by?”
“She’s worried about him.” Jake absentmindedly doodled an R on the piece of paper in front of him and traced over and over it. “She wants to know what I know about him.”
Tommy laughed. “Far as I know, Samuel’s a good kid. I’d vote him most likely to bend a knee before he’s twenty-one.”
“Yeah? You really think he’ll choose to be baptized into the Amish community?” Jake felt reassured. “Rebecca Fisher seems to think he might be in some kind of trouble.”
“Nah, not Samuel.” A rustling sounded over the line, like from a gust of wind as if he were still walking.
“Aren’t you home yet?”
Tommy laughed. “What? Are you my keeper? I had some errands to run.” Wind muffled his words again. “Let Mrs. Fisher know Samuel’s a good kid. He’s not into drugs or anything. Not as far as I know.”
“She’ll be relieved.”
“Hey, anything else?” Tommy asked. “I have to run.”
“No. Thanks.” Jake ended the call and tossed aside the pencil. He stood and grabbed his coat from the hook. If he hurried, he might catch up with Rebecca.
Give her some good news for once.
* * *
Rebecca ran down the hall and out the door. Behind her, the heavy door slammed shut, like all her hopes of reaching her son. She stopped short and blinked against the soft mist of rain as she fumbled to open her umbrella. She strode forward, deciding getting wet was the least of her problems.
She had tried everything. Absolutely everything. The professor had been her last hope to uncover what was bothering her son. At the diner, she had noticed how comfortable Samuel seemed chatting with the professor. She had hoped he knew something that would help her reconnect with her son or at least intervene if the professor could pinpoint her son’s troubles.
But this not knowing... This was more painful.
Maybe the professor did know something and he wasn’t sharing.
Even if he did, what could she do with the information? Samuel paid her no mind.
A strong wind whipped around her long dress and her thick stockings underneath. Not for the first time, she muttered evil thoughts about Willard. He was destroying his family long after his death. The leaves on the trees rustled in the wind, setting her nerves on edge. She released her coat from her tight hold and stuffed one arm, then the other, into the sleeves, juggling her tote bag and umbrella. She ran, fighting back the tears.
She couldn’t lose Samuel. His little sisters would be devastated. She would be devastated.
She swiped at the tears.
She hadn’t realized how tightly she had clung to this last measure. To the notion that Professor Burke would help her.
As a young married woman, Willard had isolated Rebecca and she had felt increasingly alone. She had been ruined when she realized the father of her children was a murderer. But she had never felt more alone, more wrecked, than she felt right now. She could never reclaim her place in the Amish community if she lost both her husband and son to the evils of the outside world.
Her family would never be gut oh tzene. No one would ever respect the Fishers again.
Rebecca had heard rumblings at the diner that someone was dealing drugs in town and it might be one of the Amish youngie. Her insides ached every time she thought of it. She had no proof that Samuel would do such a thing, but his complete change in character made her imagine the worst. Sure, he had lost his friend, Elmer, but Samuel had been through far worse. Or maybe it was the culmination of everything he had been through that had put him in the pit of despair.
Would the professor have told her if he had heard Samuel was dealing drugs? She hadn’t dared to ask him that question. She was fiercely protective of her son.
Rebecca stopped to catch her breath and her bearings. Her chest heaved. Blinking, she looked around. She didn’t know how long she had been in Professor Burke’s office. She only hoped the driver she had hired was waiting f
or her.
The building in front of her looked unfamiliar. Long shadows darkened her path. Suddenly, she realized the country college campus was deserted except for a couple girls walking away from her, their heads angled close in conversation. A hollow feeling expanded inside Rebecca. She missed her friends. Willard had seen to it that she didn’t have any, both before and after his death.
And here she was alone and...lost. In the rain. Where had the van dropped her off? She had been in such a tizzy when she’d left the professor’s building, she hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings.
Stupid woman! Willard’s voice rang in her head. She shook it away. Willard couldn’t control her anymore.
Rebecca strained to see if she could hear the idling of a motor, but all she could hear was the wind whistling through the leaves clinging to the branches.
Rebecca turned on her heel and strode back the way she had come, then made a sharp right near the professor’s building. Now that she had calmed down, she recognized the bench next to a brick memorial.
Yes, she had passed this way.
Only a little farther to the main road where her driver should be waiting.
Her heartbeat returned to normal.
The shadowed brick path wandered between campus buildings.
Just a little bit farther.
Crash. The sound of exploding glass sounded over her head. Instinctively Rebecca ducked against the rain of glass fragments.
Squinting, she lifted her head. Someone was running toward her. A dark shape. Adrenaline made her blood run cold.
Dear Lord, watch over me.
The person stopped near her, the face impossible to make out in the heavy shadows under a large hood. When the person lifted an arm as if to strike her, Rebecca cowered and tiny explosions of light danced in her line of vision. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape.
“Leave me alone,” she said, her voice squeaky with fear. Instinctively she held up her umbrella in a defensive gesture.
Get to the van!
“Rebecca!” She glanced over her shoulder, a wave of relief slamming into her. The professor.
She spun back around and the mysterious person had slipped down a dark alley between two buildings.
Professor Burke caught up to her. “Did you know that person?”
She shook her head, unable to find the words. She held the umbrella down by her side as the rain hit her fiery cheeks.
“Are you okay?” He placed his hand at the small of her back and gently guided her toward his building. Once inside the doorway, he closed her umbrella, then helped her out of her coat. He stepped outside and shook the glass off it over a trash can.
When he stepped back inside, Rebecca finally found her voice. “I think he intended to strike me. He raised his hand. If you hadn’t called my name...”
Compassion shone in his warm brown eyes. Rebecca lowered her gaze. The professor touched her shoulder. “Wait here.”
Rebecca put her coat back on, then stood inside the entryway for what seemed an eternity while the professor ran back outside. When he returned he shook his head as concern creased the corners of his eyes. “Someone smashed the light.”
“Why?”
The professor rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ve been harassed before. Because of Willard.”
Cold fear rained down on Rebecca. “W-w-we’ve had the incidents at the farm. The graffiti on the barn. The eggs smashed on the window. Nothing physical. The community was lashing out after what my...what Willard Fisher did.”
The professor scratched his head. “Did anyone know you were coming here to see me?”
Rebecca struggled to keep the threatening tears at bay. “I was talking about it at the diner. I suppose anyone could have overheard me.” A chill skittered down her spine. “I thought time would make things better. Not worse.” She hugged her coat around her midsection. “Do you think that’s what all this is about? Willard?”
“I wish I knew.” The compassion in the professor’s voice warmed her heart. He held out his arm, drawing her farther into the building. “Let’s call the sheriff.” The professor pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
Her mouth went dry and she shook her head briskly. “No. I’m not hurt. I don’t want to complicate things. I want to go home.”
The professor hesitated a moment, then much to her relief put the phone away. He seemed to regard her a moment. “I came looking for you to tell you my assistant believes Samuel’s a good kid.”
She studied his face. “What does that mean?”
“My assistant is former Amish. He hangs out with the young men. More than I do, even. He thinks your son is a good kid and likely to be baptized.”
Her eyes flared wide and hope sparked in her heart. Had she heard him correctly?
“Some of the men in his gang are a little wild. I’ve seen it firsthand, but that’s not unusual,” Professor Burke added.
“Maybe I can get him to switch gangs.” Samuel had picked his current buddy bunch when he’d turned sixteen. His group of friends was mostly composed of youth his age. But maybe...
“Maybe.” The doubt in the professor’s eyes unnerved her.
“Uri and Jonas, the brothers helping out on my farm, are in his gang. Maybe I should question them.” She hadn’t done this for fear of embarrassing Samuel in front of his friends and pushing him further away. “Samuel is not himself. I don’t care what your assistant says.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Let me drive you home,” the professor offered.
“But my driver...” She didn’t feel much like arguing; her nerves were too frazzled.
“Do you have his cell phone number? I’ll call him.”
She handed him her hired driver’s business card. She’d call him from the diner whenever she needed a ride. The professor paused a moment when she handed him the card.
Rebecca wanted to cling desperately to the hope the professor had offered her. Samuel is likely to be baptized. But deep in her heart she knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. She had once heard her friend Hannah describe it as a mother’s intuition.
Rebecca feared Samuel was being consumed by the dark shadow his father had cast upon his family.
Rebecca shuddered. She feared that she, too, would forever stand in the dark.
TWO
The wheels of Jake’s truck made a rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum noise on the road. He usually cranked tunes whenever he was in the car, a surefire method to drown out his thoughts. However, he doubted Rebecca would appreciate his penchant for classic rock. And singing along.
Rebecca shifted in her seat, partially facing him. “I appreciate your kindness in driving me home.” She tapped her fingers on the seat next to her, as if working up the nerve to say something. “I’d appreciate if you left any mention of our conversation out of any publications.”
A sharp dagger twisted in his gut. Jake had prided himself on respecting the Amish and portraying them in the best possible light. But as a professor, he always built off the facts. He never twisted his findings to suit his hypothesis.
“The newspaper quoted you in the paper after Willard’s arrest,” she said accusingly when he didn’t answer. “You shouldn’t have mentioned me or my children.”
“I only mentioned your family in brief. I focused on Willard. You have to appreciate how curious outsiders would be.”
“All too well. Unfortunately, curiosity didn’t stop with the outsiders,” Rebecca muttered.
A muscle ticked in Jake’s jaw. “Please forgive me for being blunt, but that was a fascinating case. It rarely happens that an Amish person commits murder.” He had respected her privacy. He had seen the sadness in her eyes and he would have felt like a vulture—like nothing more than a bloodthirsty journalist hot on the trail of a story—if he had approached her for an interview. Instead, he was careful to feed the news media facts regarding the Amish. It was only logical considering his position at the university and his
proximity to Apple Creek.
“While you hide behind your fancy job at the university, I’m stuck living the life of a murderer’s widow. How do you think people look at me in town? It’s not like I can avoid their curious stares. I had to get a job at the diner to make ends meet.”
“The Amish community is known for their forgiveness.” Here he was spouting out his Amish research to her, an Amish woman. He did realize the ridiculousness of it, but he was struggling for something to say.
“Many have been kind, but I see the looks of pity in their eyes. It’s painful. A few have acted out...like perhaps tonight.”
“The sheriff wasn’t able to get any leads on the previous incidents?”
“No,” Rebecca whispered, “but once we stopped calling the sheriff, the number of incidents died down. I thought we were in the clear.”
“Do you suspect your Amish neighbors?”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine...any of this, really.”
“Now you fear if Samuel leaves the Amish community, the judgment from your neighbors will be unbearable.”
“The look when I gaze into a mirror will be unbearable. I want my old life back. Before Willard lost his way.”
Jake adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I’ll be there for Samuel as much as he allows me to be.” Samuel had grown quieter of late with him, too. “Maybe he’s struggling with his decision to remain Amish.”
“He is acting out. Hanging around with boys who drive cars, skipping out early on church service, listening to loud music...” She let her words trail off, perhaps hoping he’d confirm the list or perhaps add to it. “Maybe his friends are leading him astray.”
“Perhaps.”
Rebecca huffed her frustration. “Samuel has not had the typical Amish upbringing. His mother died when he was a young boy. He had an overly strict father who was killed in jail after his murder conviction. That, I fear, has shaped him more than anything. More than any positive influence on my part.”
