by Marta Perry
Allie, sitting on the floor in the corner helping Ruthie build a block tower for the baby to knock over, looked up alertly.
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. Something else he should already have thought through, he guessed. “I don’t know. Isn’t there still an elementary school on Oak Street?”
Sarah and Aunt Verna exchanged glances, and he suspected they’d talked this over already. “You want to send her to school with the Englisch?” Sarah’s voice was carefully neutral.
“That’s what she’s used to.” Irritation prickled. He was trying to do what was best for Allie, wasn’t he?
“She would be very wilkom at our school, and Catherine Brandt is a wonderful gut teacher,” Sarah said. “Besides, then Allie could be with Ruthie.”
“But...” Objections formed in his mind.
“I want to go to school with Ruthie.” Allie’s voice startled him, even though he’d known she was listening. “Okay?”
They all looked at him, and he had the sense of being both outnumbered and outmaneuvered. “Are you sure? The English school would be more like your old school.”
Allie shook her head, her face set stubbornly. “I want to be with Ruthie.”
He hesitated, wishing for a sense of certainty about Allie’s future that didn’t come. Finally he shrugged. “Okay, the Amish school it is.”
Satisfaction and approval filled the room, and he sensed he’d passed the first hurdle on the road home. He wasn’t sure he liked that. He’d have said he hadn’t missed this life at all, but now it seemed to reach out, surround him and pull him in.
Sarah had begun to make noises about getting her brood home to bed when Lige suggested he and Michael check out the section of greenhouse that needed work.
“You’re a builder, ain’t so?” There might have been a little challenge in Lige’s steady gaze. “You’ll want to help with the work.”
It wasn’t a question. Obviously, he was part of the family so he’d help. “Sure thing. Let’s have a look.”
The sun had slid behind the ridge, and a cool wind blew across the valley as night drew in. It seemed natural, somehow, to walk along with Lige, discussing the materials that might be needed. He could have been talking to any of the men he’d worked with over the years.
They’d just passed the parked car when Lige stopped dead. “What’s that on your car?” He pointed the beam of the large flashlight he carried.
Michael looked, and his stomach recoiled. Blood—splashed over the front of the car. Blood on Diana’s head, soaking into the basement floor—
Reason asserted itself. It couldn’t be. He forced himself to walk forward, to touch it, to smell.
“It’s paint. Looks like someone emptied a gallon of the stuff over the car.” His relief was forced out by anger.
He’d come home, all right. But the taint of Diana’s murder had followed him.
* * *
CATHERINE BRANDT ARRIVED at school early, as always, walking along the path through damp morning grass. She could bring the horse and buggy, and she did when the weather was bad. But on this beautiful spring morning she’d rather walk through the woods and listen to the birds, thinking about her teaching plans for the day.
She paused where the path entered the school yard. The white frame schoolhouse waited, ready for the daily influx of lively young scholars. Catherine crossed the play area, went up the three steps and unlocked the door.
This quiet time in the morning was the point of the day when Creekside School felt most surely hers. She had taught at two other Amish schools, but Creekside was her own school—the one she’d attended, the one she hoped would be in her charge for years to come, if only...
No negative thoughts, she told herself firmly. Teaching might be the only thing she was good at, but she was very good at it, though saying so would be prideful.
Thinking of people who might want to replace her didn’t fit with the positive start she meant to give her scholars each day. Dismissing the faint worry, she checked the cloakroom to be sure all was in order before walking into the schoolroom and surveying the rows of desks. Neat and orderly, just as she’d left it the previous day. Walking between the desks to the front, she touched each one lightly, giving thought to the child who sat there, mentally planning the day each would experience.
By the time she’d prepared the chalkboard with arithmetic problems for the fourth graders and spelling words for the second graders, she heard the children begin to arrive. Cathy hurried to the entrance so she could greet them as they came in. She had to smile at how predictable they were...the young ones eager and smiling with their greetings, the older ones either sleepy or wrapped up in each other. It was a challenge to teach children of such diverse ages in one classroom, but she loved it.
Sarah Esch came hurrying to her, grasping her hand and leaning close for a whispered word. “I brought my bruder Michael and his little girl. You heard he was back, yah?”
Cathy’s thoughts spun quickly over the rumors that had rampaged through River Haven in the past few months. Yes, she’d heard.
“Allie is Ruthie’s age,” Sarah went on, glancing over her shoulder at the two little girls. “It’s all right for her to come, ain’t so?”
Cathy looked from Sarah’s apprehensive, questioning expression to the child who stood next to Ruthie—a small, pale face, guarded brown eyes, an air of fading into the background. Next to lively, ebullient Ruthie, she presented as strong a contrast as Cathy could imagine.
But she read need in the child’s face, and her heart opened. “She is most wilkom.” She held out her hand to the girls. “Komm, Ruthie. Let me meet your cousin.”
They moved toward her, and behind them, matching their steps, was an alien presence. Allie was dressed in what Cathy recognized as one of Ruthie’s dresses, but her father wore jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. Michael Forster was advertising the fact that he no longer considered himself Amish, it seemed.
She bent over the little girl, touching her shoulder. “Allie, I’m Teacher Cathy. We’re so happy you came to our school.”
Allie’s lips quirked in the slightest of smiles, and Ruthie burst into speech. “She can sit by me, can’t she, Teacher Cathy? I can help her. Please?”
“Of course she can.”
One of the nearby scholars said something in Pennsylvania Dutch, and Cathy caught Allie’s fleeting apprehension.
“We speak Englisch in school,” she said. “If anybody says something you don’t understand, just ask Ruthie, okay?”
Allie looked relieved. She nodded, again almost, but not quite, smiling.
“I’ll show you, Cousin Allie.” Ruthie tugged at her hand, and they scurried toward the smaller desks toward the front of the room.
Cathy straightened and found herself face-to-face with Michael Forster...the man who’d run away to the Englisch and broken his mother’s heart, the man who’d come home at last with a charge of murder hanging over his head.
Whatever vague memories she might have had of Michael vanished. Michael could have been any Englischer in his worn jeans and scuffed boots. Taller than a lot of Amish, he had a sturdy frame, the heavy muscles of his shoulders moving under the fabric of his shirt as he waved at his daughter.
But Allie was already sliding into the desk next to Ruthie, seeming completely occupied. His hand fell to his side and he turned a frowning gaze on Cathy.
He looked...worn-out, she decided. As if the past months had drained every bit of energy and life from him. His face was lean, all bones and angles, and his brows were dark slashes above brown eyes that held... What? Suspicion? Wariness? Pain—that was it. He was like a hurt, baffled animal, ready to strike out against a helping hand.
If Cathy had ever seen anyone who needed comfort and caring, it was Michael Forster. Her warm heart opened to him before her rational mind could think that it might not be go
od to get too close to him.
She blinked, realizing she’d been staring. Focus on the child, she told herself. Allie is your responsibility, not her father.
Collecting herself, she met his eyes. “Allie looks as if she’s going to settle in fine. I don’t think you need to stay any longer.”
His frown deepened, if that were possible. “Aren’t you Mary’s little sister Cathy?”
Naturally he’d see her that way—he’d have been Mary’s contemporary in school. He couldn’t know how much it annoyed her to be constantly classified as the little sister...the runt of the litter, as her brother Eli liked to tease.
“I’m Mary’s sister, yah. And the teacher at Creekside School.” She managed a smile. “I’d best get the school day started. Is there anything I should know about Allie? Any allergies or physical problems?”
“No.” He clipped the word off. “She’s been going to a public school. I don’t know if coming here is the best fit for her.”
He clearly had doubts about bringing Allie here, so why had he? Well, Verna, of course. She answered her own question. Verna Forster always had her own notions of what folks ought to do, and more often than not, she got her way.
“We can give it a try. If it doesn’t work out, there’s no harm done. It looks as if she’s satisfied at the moment.” She glanced at the girls, their heads together, one blond and one brown. Even as she watched, Allie smoothed her hands down the front of the plain Amish dress she wore, smiling a little as if pleased with it.
Cathy looked up again at Michael, to find him watching his child with a look compounded of love, protectiveness and bafflement. Maybe he wasn’t finding it easy to be a single dad. Her heart twisted with pity, and she longed to reassure him.
“If she gets upset—” he began.
“Please don’t worry about it. She’ll be fine. If there are any problems, I’ll send someone to fetch you. You’re at Verna’s house, ain’t so?”
He nodded, giving her a bleak look. “News travels fast.”
“It’s a small town.” If he remembered anything about River Haven, he ought to remember that.
“Yes. And people have long memories.”
There didn’t seem to be any answer she could make.
“I’ll be here to pick up Allie at three o’clock. Don’t let her leave with anyone else.” It was an order, and he followed it by striding out the door.
Michael had gone, but he’d left a turbulence in the air. Or maybe the turbulence was only in her.
She’d heard all the stories about him, and her instinctive reaction had been to believe him innocent. How could someone who’d been raised here, who’d grown up nourished on simple Amish values of faith and family, honesty and humility, possibly have done such a thing?
Now she’d encountered him for herself, and she didn’t know what to believe. She would have expected to have a sense of the familiarity that linked Amish to Amish. But that hadn’t happened. He seemed foreign to her, as if there was no point at which their lives could touch.
Collecting herself, she walked between the rows of desks to the front of the room and picked up the Bible that lay open on her desk, ready for the morning reading. Her gaze lit on Allie, who was watching her with a sort of shy hope in her face.
Cathy’s heart warmed, and she smiled. If she looked for a point where their lives touched, it was here in the form of a small child who needed her.
CHAPTER TWO
TO CATHY’S RELIEF, the school day went forward smoothly as far as Allie was concerned. The child didn’t speak at all, but she seemed to understand what was going on and followed directions. Cathy tried to picture one of her other young scholars suddenly placed in an Englisch school, and she suspected Allie was handling it as well as any child could.
Recess might have been difficult, and Allie showed a tendency to cling to Cathy’s skirt, but Ruthie coaxed her onto the swings. Cathy stayed close, just in case. If she’d known ahead of time that Allie would be in her class, she’d have prepared the rest of her scholars. She kept a wary eye on them, but other than glancing at Allie with open curiosity now and then, they behaved as well as she could wish.
She was able to relax her vigilance a bit then, and the harmony lasted right up until the time the children were dismissed. Little groups of them started off for home, the older ones careful to shepherd the younger ones along, at least while they knew Teacher Cathy’s eyes were on them. She couldn’t vouch for what happened after that, but she suspected there was just as much teasing and jostling as there had been when she was a scholar.
The school yard emptied out. Ruthie gave Allie a hug before rushing off to catch up with the older neighbors who walked her home. Then there was no one left but Cathy and Allie, who looked more than a little forlorn as the others disappeared.
“Daadi will be here soon to pick you up.” Cathy stacked the materials she needed to carry home and slipped them into the canvas bag she carried back and forth. “Will he drive the car, do you think?”
“I guess. I wish...” She let that trail off.
What did she wish? That her father had been on time, most likely. Anyone would. No child wanted to be left waiting, the only one at the school.
“Would you like to erase the chalkboard for me, Allie? That would be a big help.”
The small face was unresponsive, but Allie picked up the eraser and started on the board. Cathy let her get started on the bottom half before she began on the top part. They worked together without speaking.
Should she push a little more? Or was it best to let Allie set the pace of their relationship? Cathy had dealt with troubled children before, but she’d never even imagined a situation like this. Did Allie have any understanding of what had happened to her parents?
She tamped down an urge to find Michael Forster and shake some answers out of him. Why hadn’t he taken the trouble to talk to her before arriving at school this morning with his child? If she were to help Allie, she’d certainly need her father’s cooperation.
An image of Michael’s face, as she’d seen it that morning, filled her mind—stubborn, withdrawn and suspicious. Could she really imagine a man like that cooperating with her?
Allie caught her attention with a tug on her skirt. “Teacher, may I look and see if my daddy is coming?” The child’s voice hovered on the edge of tears, and Cathy felt a surge of anger at the absent parent.
“We’ll both look,” she said. “And if he’s not coming yet, I’ll walk you home. All right?”
Pressing her lips together, Allie nodded, her brown eyes bright with unshed tears.
Cathy grabbed her schoolbag and followed Allie to the front porch. The school lane curved out to the county road, and there was no sign of anyone coming. Cathy automatically checked the path that led off through the trees. It was the route she normally took to school, and it passed right behind Verna’s property, but she doubted Michael would take it. He probably didn’t even remember it was there.
Allie had her back turned, but Cathy could see the tremor in her shoulders, and her own temper flared.
“Just let me lock the door, and we’ll be off.” She kept her voice cheerful with an effort. “We’ll walk along the road and maybe we’ll meet him along the way. All right?”
Allie had to knuckle the tears away before she nodded. Cathy locked up, pasted a smile on her face and took Allie’s hand. It was going to take a gigantic effort to keep from telling Michael just what she thought of him when they did meet.
They walked the lane together, with Allie’s hand clasped in hers. A glance at the child’s face told her that it was taking all Allie’s strength to keep from crying—she certainly didn’t have any left to chat.
A cheerful monologue seemed to be the best option, so Cathy talked about school, about the other children, about the swelling buds on the trees that would open in another week of warm wea
ther. Anything to distract Allie from the fact that her father hadn’t shown up. She struggled to control her anger. Didn’t the man realize how vulnerable Allie would feel on her first day in a new school?
“I’d guess your aunt Verna will have a snack waiting for you when you get home.” She’d best distract herself as well as Allie. “My mammi still does that, even though I’m a grown-up woman now. And Aunt Verna will want to hear all about your first day at school. It was pretty good, ain’t so?”
Allie’s gaze flickered to her face, and she nodded, her own expression lightening, making Cathy feel marginally better. Better, but still determined to make sure Michael knew he’d let his child down.
Even as she thought it, a car spun around the bend in the road ahead of them and came speeding toward them. Taking Allie’s shoulders, Cathy drew her back to the side of the road, into the long grass.
“I think that’s your daadi.” She hoped she didn’t sound as grim as she felt.
Brakes shrieked, and the car pulled over and came to a halt a few feet from them. Michael surged out of the vehicle, his angry gaze fixed on Cathy’s face and probably equally angry words brimming on his lips.
Cathy spoke quickly to intercept him, but she spoke to the child. “See? I told you Daadi would be here, and here he is. Now you can hop in the car and ride the rest of the way home.” She patted Allie’s shoulder and steered her to the vehicle, not looking at him. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
She wasn’t looking, but she could hear his quick, indrawn breath and sense his struggle for control.
“That’s right,” Michael said finally. He reached to buckle Allie into her seat. “Just let me speak to Teacher Cathy for a minute, and then we’ll go home.”
He closed the car door, and Cathy suspected she knew what he wanted the minute for. He swung toward her. “Why are you walking along the road with my daughter? The traffic danger—”
“The only dangerous vehicle we saw was yours,” she interrupted. She went on in a furious undertone before she could lose her nerve. “You said you’d be there to pick her up when school was out. How do you think she felt when all the other scholars left and you didn’t come? Don’t you know how vulnerable she is?”