“I have news to share with you, Bishop. Toby’s body was found in his family’s cornfield.” Grace’s voice caught. Broke. “We’re on our way to Peter’s.” She glanced at Zeke. “He is—was—Timothy’s other best friend.”
The bishop shifted. “Peter was found about an hour ago. He’s alive but unconscious. Near as his parents can tell, he has two badly broken bones in one leg, and the opposite arm is broken. Not sure about internal injuries. He’s on his way to the hospital. His family stopped by to let us know.”
Grace swallowed the lump in her throat. “Good. I’m glad he’s alive.” But her breath caught again.
“We’ll reschedule your wedding for the first available Thursday after Timothy is found. If he’s able.”
Grace forced a smile. “Danki.”
Zeke frowned and gave her a look. She shook her head. She couldn’t talk about her doubts to the bishop when it might not even matter.
Bishop Nathan studied Zeke. “You looked like you had a question. Is it something I can help you with?”
Grace cringed. Now Zeke would share her concerns about Timothy with the bishop, and they’d be forced to talk it through. She shifted.
Zeke hesitated and his frown deepened. “On the way here, Gracie and I were discussing Jesus walking on the water, and how the waves overwhelmed the disciple Peter and he took his focus off Christ. And—”
“Ah. Jah. The disciples thought He was a ghost. It’s funny, but we never expect to see Him in a storm. But that’s where He does His finest work. It’s in the storms that He has our keenest attention.”
Grace blinked.
“I never thought of that,” Zeke said.
“But it’s true, ain’t so?”
“Patience kept praying for Jesus to calm the storm.” Grace shifted again. She’d have to thank Zeke for not giving her secrets away.
“I think, if we’re honest, we’re all praying that.” The bishop looked at what remained of his haus, took his hat off, slapped it against his leg, then replaced it with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Jah, indeed. It truly is hard to keep our focus on Him when the waves crash over us.”
Zeke tilted his head toward Grace. “And we were wondering what Jesus was praying for up on that mountain when His disciples were tossed at sea.”
Bishop Nathan blinked. Twice. “You ask the hard questions, do you?”
“Actually, Gracie asked me. I wasn’t sure.” Zeke grimaced.
“I’m not sure, either.” The bishop tugged on his beard. “I never actually thought about it. But I think that, possibly, He might’ve been praying for His ministry and Gott’s will for the next day. I don’t know. Scripture doesn’t say. However, if I’m reading your question right”—he looked at Grace—“the Bible does say that Jesus is sitting at the right hand of the Father, interceding on our behalf.”
Grace smiled. That made her feel better. Maybe Jesus was telling Gott all about her worries, her guilt, and her shame so she wouldn’t have to. Though she did need to voice them in her prayers at some point. The Bible was clear about the need to confess sins.
The bishop exhaled noisily. “As much as I love to discuss the scriptures, I have to cut this short, because I have much to do. I’ll tell my wife about Toby. She’ll organize the women to bring meals and clean the haus for the viewing and funeral. I’ll stop by there later this afternoon or evening.”
“I hope the buggy repairman can help you figure out how to get the buggy out of your haus.” Zeke climbed back into the buggy.
Bishop Nathan frowned. “Danki. Let me know if you have a brilliant suggestion. I expect to see you around at some of the work frolics, Zeke.”
“Wherever they need me,” Zeke replied.
“Daed asked him to help me find Timothy,” Grace said. Though she couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said. It seemed her thoughts whirled about as out of control as the tornado last nacht. For better or for worse, she was supposed to be a married woman right now. Not traipsing around the countryside looking for her groom while sitting beside a man who made her pulse race. She climbed into the buggy and plopped down on the seat.
The buggy shifted under the pressure.
Zeke glanced at her, concern in his eyes. “Where to?”
He’d probably edited the question due to the bishop being within hearing still.
“I don’t know where to look now. We’ve been to his home. His friends are accounted for in one way or another, and…well.” She shrugged. “I could check on my friends.”
“It seems someone should be checking on you.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.
“Jah, but…” How many times had she heard those words that day? Twice at least, maybe three or four times. But…“Nobody ever checks on me. I am the strong one. I have to stay calm for Patience. I—”
Zeke clicked to the horse and drove toward the road. “There’s a song that plays on the oldies radio station, and jah, I know I’m not supposed to listen to a radio, but that’s our secret, okay?” He raised an eyebrow.
She swallowed the rest of her argument. “O-kay.” She winced at the doubt filling that one drawn-out word. But he didn’t visibly react.
He paused at the end of the driveway. She pointed west. He nodded and checked for vehicles before turning. “I’m not exactly sure of the whole song, but some of the words are, ‘If everybody wants you, why isn’t anybody calling?’”
Ouch. The words hit her like a slap across the face, and she recoiled. “That’s mean.”
“I don’t mean to be unkind. Really. But you need to step back and slow down before you have a breakdown.”
“I won’t have a breakdown.”
“Patience isn’t here right now, Grace. It’s okay to cry. You’ve had your plans destroyed, even if you did pray for Gott to stop the wedding. You didn’t expect the destruction, death, or injury to follow in Gott’s answer to your prayer. Not that you’re responsible for the tornado…” He half chuckled, then grimaced. “I’m making a mess out of this. But don’t you need to mourn and pray for peace, too?”
She wasn’t sure what to do or say. So…she’d ignore it.
“Turn into the first driveway on the left.” She shifted away from him. Because really, she didn’t have time for dramatics. She needed to focus on the here and now, and not on her feelings.
She should’ve told herself that from the beginning. That, and love is a decision. She shouldn’t have prayed for Gott to stop the wedding. Then the tornado wouldn’t have come, Toby would be alive, Timothy would be by her side, and this dangerous, gorgeous hunk of mankind would be safely back in Indiana and not messing with the tattered remnants of her shredded heart.
She shook her head violently. She would not—could not—think like this.
“If I get into the habit of venting when Patience isn’t with me, it might accidentally slip into my behavior when she is. And that would be bad.” Though she did cry right before the noon meal, and Patience tried to comfort her. And her sister hadn’t gone off the deep end. Hmm…
Zeke let go of the reins with one hand and reached for her. “Gracie…”
No, she couldn’t let him touch her again. She was still promised to Timothy, and Zeke was way too appealing. She moved her hand out of his reach. His hand landed on her knee.
Her whole body reacted to his touch. Burning. Tingling. She shoved his hand away.
He white-knuckled the reins. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you like that.” His mouth worked a second. “I just wanted to remind you to breathe. Just breathe.”
* * *
Zeke clenched the reins tighter. He probably needed to shut his mouth and just let her be, but she seriously needed to take a quiet moment and mourn. At least he thought she should. But he did understand the need to be strong for Patience. He had to be careful around his special cousin, too.
He directed Charlie Horse to turn where Grace indicated and parked between the barn and the haus. “Who lives here?”
“One of my best fri
ends. Elsie Miller. My other best friend, Hallie, works at the restaurant in Arthur. She took the day off for my wedding, but I’m sure she was called in to work with all the rescue workers coming to town. And tourists checking out the damage. That would be the place to be. Local hot spot for gossip.”
“I guess.” He shifted. “They’re using the public school gymnasium to house those left homeless.”
“The Englisch, you mean? I don’t think the bishop or any of the Amish would go there. We take care of our own.”
“Some of the Englisch do, too. But what if they have no family in the area and no place else to go?”
Gracie shrugged.
“They had several cots set up already when we checked in this morning. A janitor was on duty. I heard a baby crying. And that’s where I found your dog.”
She glanced at him, eyes wide. “You mentioned that earlier. But really? He went that far?”
It wasn’t so far. Maybe five miles, give or take. He shrugged.
Nobody came out of the Miller haus. Zeke didn’t notice any damage, though, other than several uprooted trees. No one was working on them. The place had an abandoned feel.
Gracie climbed out of the buggy and went into the haus.
Charlie Horse snorted and stomped his foot.
“Help!” A faint cry, followed by pounding, came from somewhere.
Zeke climbed out of the buggy, let the reins drop to the ground, and ran toward the haus. “Gracie?”
More yells and thumps.
He jogged up the steps to the porch and opened the door. “Gracie? Are you okay?”
“Help!”
The shout didn’t seem to come from the haus. Zeke turned and surveyed the yard. The uprooted trees. “Where are you?”
“Storm shelter!” the answering shout came.
Gracie ran out of the haus, almost running into him. She skidded to a stop. “No one is home, but the beds are unmade.”
“Where’s the storm shelter?”
“The storm— Oh.” She pointed. “Over there. Where the trees are down. Do you think they’re in there?”
“I’m almost positive.” Almost, because there was always room for doubt. Though, unless trees had started talking…He shook his head. That was plain foolishness. “Did you put the chain saw in the buggy?”
“Nein. I asked you to do it.”
He frowned. If she had, he’d forgotten. Another failure on his part. “Do you think they might have one in the barn?”
She shrugged. “They don’t. Because they don’t have a woodstove or a fireplace. Propane.”
“No chain saw.” A voice said from the shelter. “We have a handsaw.”
“Would the bishop have one?”
“I’ll find one.”
“I never thought I’d say this to you, but hurry.” He grinned. “I’ll go see if I can find the handsaw.”
She scampered into the buggy and drove off.
Zeke went into the barn. She was right, they didn’t have a chain saw, but he did find the handsaw. That’d be a start.
He carried it out and walked over to the uprooted tree. “We’re working on getting you out. Hang tight.”
“Danki,” the tree answered.
Zeke couldn’t see the storm shelter at all, underneath the colorful leafiness of the fallen trees. He guessed where the door probably would be and went to work.
“Okay, I’m beginning to saw the smaller branches off. This might sting a bit.” He was trying to be funny but at the same time keep the unknown occupants of the storm shelter up-to-date with his progress.
“I’m a big, strong tree,” a male voice said with a chuckle. “I think I can handle it.”
“Ah. A male tree. Well, I’m going to cut off the leafy twigs first so I can better see what I’m doing.”
“I was overdue for a good trimming anyway,” the tree said.
Zeke laughed. “Indeed you were.”
“There’s a tree trimmer in the barn—should be hanging on a pegboard near where you found the saw,” a female said.
Zeke grinned. “I’ll see if I can find it and come right back.” He put the handsaw down and ran back to the barn. The tree trimmer was tucked off in a dark corner, not easily visible, but he found it and carried it out to the tree. “Okay, I found it, and I’m back. Might want to close your eyes.”
“So we don’t point out your mistakes?”
“That, and so I don’t get leaves in your eyes.”
A chuckle.
“Okay, I like to get to know my victims before I cut them up, so tell me about you.”
Silence for a beat. Then a short laugh. “That’s rather disturbing, but since I’m doomed for someone’s fireplace anyway, I’ll share my tale. I was born a poor seedling purchased to be a windbreak on these windy plains…”
Sometime later, the tree’s detailed story almost complete and a significant dent made in a portion of the tree, Gracie drove the horse and buggy back into the drive, followed by a small bulldozer.
Where on earth did she find one? The girl—woman—was brilliant.
Zeke climbed out of the mess of disconnected branches and got out of the way. At least the storm shelter was visible now, even if he hadn’t cleared quite enough to get the door open.
The bulldozer operator scraped the trees to one side, making short work of freeing the rather dented shelter door.
As the noisy machine rumbled out of the way, Zeke ran over, gave the door handle a good yank, and threw the hatchway wide open.
A gray tabby cat, fur standing on end and tail flicking, flew out as if it were launched. It was followed by ten Amish people of assorted ages and sizes. Two of them were older, likely the grandparents. Two middle-aged. The parents? Two were unmarried young men. One school-age boy and three females—girls of assorted ages. They were all chuckling over the “talking tree.”
He glanced at Gracie, almost expecting her to dash to one of the men, embrace him, and introduce him as her Timothy. Zeke stiffened, waiting for the inevitable happy reunion.
But if one was Timothy, he went unheralded. And none of the men looked at her as he should his bride.
A young woman with strawberry-blond hair, maybe the same age as Gracie, ran to her and embraced her. That must be her friend Elsie.
Zeke approached the Englisch man with the bulldozer. “Danki.” Oops, he’d meant to say it in Englisch.
The man seemed to understand anyway. “No problem.” He slapped Zeke on the arm.
The oldest Amish man stepped forward. “Thank you for rescuing us, young man.” He shook the Englischer’s hand.
Zeke tried not to slump. But if he’d harbored any hopes of being the hero in this situation, they’d been firmly trampled in the mud. He wasn’t the hero. He’d never be the hero. The sooner he got that thought rooted in his head, the better.
Why did he even try?
He turned to ask Gracie if she was ready to go since their “good deed” was done here, but she’d managed to disappear when he wasn’t watching. She, the woman who was hugging her, and all the other females who’d come out of the shelter. The men began stalking around the property surveying everything, probably checking for damage.
Zeke didn’t see any, but then he was unfamiliar with the property, so he wouldn’t notice a minute, little something.
The guy with the bulldozer drove off, the machine rumbling.
Was it too much to ask to be a hero in somebody’s eyes? Especially if that somebody had enough clout to talk to his daed and tell him what Zeke had accomplished? Not that it’d make much difference. Daed would only see what he wanted.
The grossdaadi waited quietly beside Zeke. When Zeke turned to look at him, the grossdaadi grasped Zeke’s shoulders with both hands and gave him a brotherly kiss on both cheeks. “Danki for what you did to rescue us. Really appreciate you coming by as you did, sohn. It also helped to have a running commentary on your progress, especially since you lightened it up so much.”
“No problem.” Zeke
adjusted his hat, blinked the sting from his eyes as he turned toward the barn and returned the handsaw and the tree trimmer. Perhaps Zeke was a hero to someone after all. When he had his emotions under control, he walked toward the haus and went to the now open door. The women were in the kitchen—at least most of them were—putting coffee on and emptying the contents of the picnic basket Gracie had brought onto the table.
Food. Really? But then these people had been stuck in the storm shelter for over twelve hours. They were likely starving.
Gracie smiled at him, and for some weird reason, his heart pounded and his hands grew sweaty.
He angled his steps in her direction and leaned close to her ear. “It’s a good thing you wanted to check on these people. I shouldn’t have tried to talk you out of it.”
* * *
Grace tried not to shiver as Zeke’s whisper tickled her ear and stirred the loose strands of hair that were too short to put into her bun. As he walked past, going toward the sink as if he intended to wash up, she tried not to notice his confident stride or the way his pants hung on his hips. Face heating, she turned to see how she could help.
Well, at least until she met Elsie’s wide-eyed, totally shocked gaze.
Grace looked away, face heating.
Elsie grasped her elbow and pulled her from the room. “You can help me upstairs.”
Grace stumbled, trying to keep up with Elsie’s fast pace. Or maybe she was dragging her feet.
Elsie waited until they were in the room she shared with her two sisters before she faced Grace. “Who is he? What are you doing?” she hissed. “And where’s Timothy?”
Grace’s eyes stung. “I don’t know. We’re looking for him. Timothy, Toby, and Peter went buggy racing last night. Now Toby’s…gone, Peter’s in the hospital with multiple injuries, and Timothy’s missing.”
“Toby is…” Elsie swallowed. Blinked hard. “Oh no. That’s terrible. Hallie is going to be crushed.” She dropped onto the bed and buried her face in her hands.
“Jah, I don’t think she knows yet.” Grace’s voice caught. “I dread telling her.”
Elsie sniffed and looked up. Tears beaded on her lashes. “But who is the guy in our kitchen, and why were you looking at him like…” Elsie waved her hand in front of her face like a fan.
The Amish Wedding Promise Page 8