Martha gasped. “What? I didn’t hear that either. Goodness, what’s happening with me? I’m missing all the news.”
“She saw someone with a hood on,” Leora told her. “She thinks it was the person who set the fire.”
“Ach,” Martha murmured.
Leora chose not to share about her shed incident. She wasn’t sure why she kept it to herself. Maybe by not talking about it, it became less real. But whatever the reason, she kept quiet.
“We’re here,” Tom announced.
“Now, kinner,” Martha said, “you’re to be on your best behavior. This is the bishop’s house we’re at. Do you understand?”
Ben nodded, and Louisa just stuck her fingers in her mouth. There were already a good number of buggies in the yard, lined up in a tidy row. The horses were still hitched up, though, so Leora assumed the prayer meeting wouldn’t be too long. They climbed out of the buggy and filed into the already crowded house.
“Welcome,” said the bishop’s wife. “It’s right crowded in here, but the barn is so cold today.”
“We don’t mind,” Martha said kindly, shepherding her children to where the women were gathered. Tom disappeared into the men.
Leora couldn’t help but look for Noah. He was in the back, but he was tall enough to be seen. He caught her eye and smiled. She turned away quickly, embarrassed to be noticed looking for him.
After about ten minutes, the bishop spoke.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. “As you all know, we’ve been targeted by someone. We don’t know their reasons for attacking us, but it’s not the first time.”
“First time for us in Hollybrook,” someone behind Leora murmured.
“We’re here to pray for them—whoever they are. And for our own strength and patience and love. We know that meeting violence with violence is never the answer.”
He went on for another five minutes or so before they began to pray. It was a silent prayer, and Leora felt a peace fill her. She loved to be in the middle of her community when they were praying. Even the occasional sniffle or whine from a child didn’t interrupt the calm feeling of love and faith and hope. She wasn’t sure how long their praying lasted; she only knew when the bishop cleared his throat to signify the end of the prayer time, she felt better than she had for days.
Everyone else must have felt the same, for the heavy feeling at the beginning of the meeting had been transformed to one of lightness and joy at being together. The chatting started and then the laughter. The children crawled down from their mothers’ laps and began running around, darting between people’s legs.
Noah made his way over to her. “Is everything all right at your place, Leora? Nothing else happen?”
She glanced around, but no one seemed to have heard his words.
“Everything is fine,” she told him.
“You staying with Martha tonight?”
She shook her head. “There’s no need.”
He looked disgruntled for a moment, but then he smiled. “Do you need a ride into the diner tomorrow?”
“I’m planning to go in about ten o’clock.”
“I’ll be there to take you,” he said, and before she could respond, he moved away, joining the men who appeared to be busy planning the barn raisings.
Martha stepped close and whispered, “You like him, Leora. Admit it.”
Leora lowered her voice to a murmur. “Of course, I like him. Everyone does. He’s a nice man.”
Martha laughed outright at that. “Jah, Leora. That’s what I meant.” She nudged Leora and shook her head in amusement.
Leora’s cheeks flamed hot. “Someone’s going to hear you.”
Martha laughed again. “Ach, no one’s paying us a bit of mind.”
Leora fidgeted with her kapp strings and unable to help herself, her gaze went to Noah. He cut a fine figure, there, in the middle of the men. His shoulders were broad, and his shirt strained the slightest bit over his muscles. She found herself wondering what it would be like to be enveloped in his embrace every morning and evening.
She gave a start and blinked hard. She looked back to Martha who was giving her a knowing look.
“Like I said…” Martha whispered, one eyebrow raised.
Leora scowled. “Fine,” she said. “I suppose I’m the tiniest bit smitten.”
Martha’s face broke out into a wide smile. “Ach, Leora, but that’s gut. He’s a fine man.”
“I said the tiniest bit!”
Martha gave that knowing look again, and Leora wanted to fall through the floor. She loved Martha dearly, but sometimes she was completely annoying.
“You’re still planning on coming for Thanksgiving, ain’t so?” Martha asked.
“Jah. I’ll come over early and help with all the cooking.”
“Mamm will be there early, too, so we’ll get things done in plenty of time.” Martha rubbed her protruding stomach. “I’m glad I had the foresight to invite Noah to dinner.”
Leora was pleased to hear about the invitation, but considering their conversation, she wasn’t about to say so.
“I will bring squash pies,” Leora offered.
“Would you? That’d be right nice.” Martha let out a small moan. “I don’t know why, but this boppli I’m carrying sure does kick a lot.”
Leora felt a quick flash of envy for her friend. Again, she felt the yearning to have a little one of her own. Her eyes flicked to Noah again. He looked over and their gazes locked. Leora sucked in a breath and averted her eyes. Can he tell? she wondered. Can he tell that I’m growing fond of him?
Would he ask again to take her driving? Not to any destination, but just to court her? Why had she been so quick to stay silent with him the last time? Right then, she couldn’t imagine ever turning Noah down. Her brow furrowed. She had lied to Martha. This was much more than the slightest bit smitten. Why, she was falling in love with the man.
David… What would David think of him? What would he think of her?
Ben tugged on her dress. She bent down close. “Hello, Ben. What do you want?”
“I’m thirsty.”
Martha heard him, too. “I’ll give you a drink when we get home. Quit bothering Leora.”
“It’s no bother,” Leora told her. “Come on, Ben. I’m sure the bishop’s wife has a drink of water for you.”
She took Ben’s pudgy little hand in her own, and they went to find a glass of water.
Chapter Nineteen
The meeting broke up and Tom and Martha took Leora home and let her off at her house.
“You all right by yourself?” Tom asked.
“Of course, I am. Thanks for the ride.”
“Come over soon, and we’ll talk more about Thanksgiving,” Martha told her.
“Sounds fine,” Leora said, climbing out of the buggy. She went inside hurriedly, only glancing swiftly at her shed before going into the dark house. She locked the door and took out her flashlight, shining the beam directly at the table where she’d left her lantern. She got it lit and then put the flashlight away.
She stoked the fire, and it wasn’t long before the front room warmed up nicely. She should eat something, but she found she wasn’t hungry. Instead, she sank into her rocker next to the warming stove and closed her eyes. After the fellowship of the prayer meeting, she found herself feeling lonely.
Odd, but she usually didn’t feel lonely. Oh, of course, she missed David, but that had faded into a dull ache that came intermittently. At first after he’d died, the aching had consumed her. But now, most of the time, she was happy enough. She had her house, she had her work, and she’d managed to whittle down their debt to almost nothing.
Her needs were met, and for that she was grateful.
Yet more and more of late, she felt lonely. More and more of late, she wanted a child. Someone to hold in her arms, to care for, to nurture.
When she’d gone to work at the diner, it had helped. Donna was a nice person, and she was pleasant to be around. And then, t
here was Bill. He was so attentive, and it was like a salve on her spirit. He made her feel better… She’d tried to keep her wits about her where he was concerned, for she knew a relationship—any kind of relationship—with him could go nowhere. But she liked him, and she had to confess that she liked the attention he gave her.
Now Noah had come more and more into the picture. She’d never really considered him as a beau, but now she could hardly think of anything else. She knew he liked her; he’d made that clear.
“Ask me again,” she whispered into the warming air. “Ask me to go riding again, Noah.”
She pushed her feet gently on the floor, rocking softly.
“Ask me again,” she repeated.
Just then, she heard a banging noise. She shot up out of her chair, her eyes wide. What was that? It sounded like her shed door. Had the wind come up? She ran to the window and peered outside toward the row of evergreen bushes on the far side of her house. In the moonlight, she could see them swaying and bobbing. So, there was a wind. She needed to go outside and secure the latch on the shed.
Her throat went dry. Was he back? The hooded man? Was he back?
Because she now had no doubt that it was him who had been there earlier. Was he setting her shed on fire? She tried to swallow, but her throat was now so dry it felt like chalk.
She ran for her flashlight and turned it on.
Go out there. Go out there. Go out there, she told herself.
Her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely fasten her cape. No. She should stay inside. Who cared if the shed door banged all night? But what if it was on fire? She raced to the kitchen, and dousing the flashlight, she pressed her face to the glass of the window. She craned her neck farther than ever, and she could barely make out the shed. And yes, the door was hanging open, moving slightly back and forth.
Maybe, in her nervousness earlier, she hadn’t made sure the latch was secure.
She would go out there. She wasn’t afraid. She was brave. She had insisted on staying there alone that night, so she was brave.
Wasn’t she?
Her thoughts in a whirl, she forced herself to go out the side door, but this time, she was careful to lock it behind her. She drew in a cold breath and flipped on her flashlight. The light bobbed over the hard ground as she made her way to the shed. When she neared, she saw the shed door inch its way closed. It … wasn’t … the … wind…
She ran to the shed and slammed it completely closed, securing the latch with trembling fingers. Before she could turn and race back inside, a buggy started down her drive. She gaped at it open-mouthed. She couldn’t move. It was as if her feet were frozen to the ground. And then she recognized Flicker, and she went flying over the ground to meet the buggy.
Noah jumped out and she threw herself in his arms. He held her close, his mouth near her ear.
“There, there,” he crooned. “What is it? What’s happened. There, there…”
She held on for dear life, nearly crushing Noah in her embrace. She didn’t budge from his arms until she realized what she was doing. Then she pushed away from his chest, totally embarrassed.
“Ach, I’m sorry,” she muttered.
He leaned close to her face. “I saw your flashlight…”
She blinked. How? Had he just been passing by? And how strange that he would be passing at that very moment…
“How?” she asked. “How did you see me?”
He cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “I-I was worried about you. I decided to sleep in my buggy across the road from your house.”
She stared into his shadowed face. “What?” she whispered.
“I was worried. Don’t be angry with me.”
Angry? How could she be angry? She was so overcome with relief and gratitude, she couldn’t speak.
“Why were you outside, Leora? What were you doing?”
And then she snapped back to the moment. “There’s… I think he’s in my shed again. It’s … it’s him. I just know it.”
Noah went stiff. “Again?” He took the flashlight from her hand and stepped around her. When she moved with him, he stopped.
“Go inside,” he told her. “Go inside, and I’ll check it out.”
“Nee,” she pleaded. “I’ll check with you.”
“Leora, please. I want you safe.”
“I’ll walk behind you,” she promised. “I’ll stay behind you.”
He tucked her behind him with his left arm, and she inched forward so close to him that her face grazed the back of his woolen coat.
He unlatched the shed and pulled open the door. Something rushed at them, shoving hard. In the flurry, Noah nearly toppled back onto Leora.
“Stop!” he yelled.
The hooded person darted away and flew across the yard, Noah in pursuit, the beam of the flashlight jerking wildly across the ground as Noah ran. Leora clasped her hand to her chest.
“Noah!” she screamed. “Noah!”
The moon was out, so she wasn’t in complete darkness. Panic gripped her, and she didn’t know what to do. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
“Noah!” she cried again.
But she couldn’t see anything now. Not his shadow running. Not the flashlight. Not the hooded man.
She was shaking. What should she do?
She ran to her house and fumbled in the dark to get the door unlocked. She hurried inside the house and snatched up the lantern with a shaking hand. She raced back outside and made her way as fast as she could across her yard and onto the street. The phone shanty wasn’t too far away. She only had to reach that. She would get help. It wasn’t far… She increased her speed, doing her best not to stumble on the road. She heart hammered inside her, and she listened with all her might and still didn’t hear anything.
Noah, be safe, be safe, be safe, she chanted as she neared the phone shanty. She picked her way through the dry weeds and opened the shanty door. Once inside, she reached for the phone with a trembling hand and dialed 9-1-1.
* * *
The cold air bit at Noah’s face as he kept running. In front of him, he could barely see the shadow of the hooded man. Then he saw him more clearly. He was darting into an empty field. Dumb, Noah thought. He could see him better now. See clearly where he was going. Noah’s long legs stretched out as he gained speed and closed in on the runner ahead of him.
He could hear the guy panting now; he was slowing down, his sweatshirt flapping behind him.
“Stop!” Noah cried between gasps. “Stop!”
Of course, the man didn’t stop. Noah increased his speed until he thought his lungs would explode, but he kept on. He had to. This man had to be stopped.
With an agonizing yelp, the man tripped and fell headlong onto the frozen dirt. Within seconds, Noah was on him. He pinned him down, and the hooded guy was no match for Noah’s strength. Noah was panting heavily, and he felt heady, as if he were about to pass out, but he kept his grip tight.
“I won’t hurt you,” Noah rasped out between gulping breaths. “But you ain’t going anywhere.”
The man fought him, cursing and squirming wildly. Noah held on for dear life.
In the distance, he heard sirens. Had Leora called the police? Gut girl, he thought. But how would the police know where they were? And then Noah saw the flashlight lying on the ground at a crazy angle where he’d flung it, shining its light into the sky.
The man beneath him continued to struggle, but he was so much thinner, so much lighter than Noah, he didn’t stand a chance. The police car came to a grinding halt in the gravel at the side of the road.
“Over here!” Noah called.
Within seconds, the police were there, and Noah loosened his grip.
One of the policemen shone his light in the guy’s face. “Oh Lord. It’s you,” he said. “Read him his rights, Gerry.”
The other policeman recited his spiel while the first one cuffed the man. Noah wiped the sweat from his face and looked at the guy more closely. He was j
ust a kid. Couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen years old.
“Playing with matches again?” the first policeman asked. He glanced at Noah. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Thanks for your good work tonight.”
Noah nodded and just then, he saw lantern light bobbing down the road. Leora. It had to be her.
“How’d you catch him?” the policeman called Gerry asked Noah.
“He was in Leora Fisher’s shed. I don’t know why. He didn’t set it on fire.”
The face of the kid was something to behold. Noah didn’t remember ever seeing such hatred on anyone’s face, adult or teen. Was the hatred directed at him? Or at all the Amish?
“His parents reported him missing two weeks ago. I imagine he was seeking shelter wherever he could find it…” Gerry said.
“But the fires…”
“It’s not his first rodeo,” the first policeman said. “He served time in juvie for setting fires two years ago. Come on, son. We’re taking you in.”
Noah stood there, watching, as they dragged the boy, kicking and cursing across the field. Noah was still panting, and his heart was still racing.
“Noah?” called Leora from the edge of the field.
“I’m coming, Leora,” he called back.
The first policeman turned back to him. “We may need to ask you more questions. Your name?”
“Noah King.”
“All right. Good night, Mr. King.”
“Gut night.”
Leora was picking her way over the dirt, her lantern swathing her in a sheath of yellow light.
“Are you all right, Noah?”
“I’m fine.” He snatched up the flashlight and went to join her.
“I called the police…”
He cupped her cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured. “It’s over now.”
Leora’s eyes were filled with tears. Any moment, they would fall.
“I’ll take you back home,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. With God’s grace, there would be no more fires now. No more lost barns.
“Was… Was he the one who did it? The fires?” Leora asked quietly.
Thanksgiving In Hollybrook (Hollybrook Holiday Amish Romance) Page 12
