Abigail's New Hope (The Wayne County Series)

by Mary Ellis

  “You sure came here prepared, didn’t you?” he muttered. Nathan found the Scriptures and read them over twice because he’d never heard them before. The sooner he met her demands the sooner she would go home. When he finished reading, he looked up to meet her gaze. “It says we’re supposed to keep going to preaching and listen to what the teachers and pastors say to build up the church. We can’t stop until we measure up to the full standard of Christ.”

  “Are you there yet, Nathan?”

  He shut the book with a snap. “No, ma’am. I’m not there yet.”

  “Neither am I,” she said, grinning. “I’m still a long way off, I suppose.”

  He couldn’t help but smile too.

  “You’re on the right track though. At least you didn’t run in the house and hide when you saw my car, pretending not to be home.”

  “Don’t think that didn’t cross my mind.” He gave his beard a pull.

  “Go back to church services, Nathan. Take your son and your aunt, and let your Amish community reach out to you in Christian love.”

  He ducked his head as shame filled his heart. It took an English woman to set me back on the right track. “I will, I promise. My aunt’s been threatening to go home if I don’t do something. Preaching is a good place to start. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Abraham stirred in his cradle, signaling the adult conversation might soon be interrupted.

  “I’d better head back to Wooster. I don’t like driving on twisty roads after dark, but later tonight after I leave, read the book of James, chapter two. James tells us that faith without good deeds is dead. We are to reach out to others and lend a helping hand as long as we live. You can’t hole up alone and keep your faith. And when you involve yourself in good works, you’ll lose the guilt that’s keeping you miserable. You’ll never forget Ruth, but punishing yourself won’t bring her back. Let go of your misguided sense of responsibility. Everything in our lives happens according to God’s plan, even the untimely deaths of loved ones.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezed, and then walked down the steps to her car.

  Nathan mumbled his thanks, but he couldn’t lift his head. His face streamed with tears long held in check.

  Sixteen

  When Abby and Rachelle returned to their cell from morning church services and lunch, Rachelle was upbeat and talkative. She’d joined in the singing of “Rock of Ages” with passion. Her enthusiasm more than made up for the nasal, off-key tone of her voice. She said that hymn had been her grandmother’s favorite. From her expression of pained nostalgia, Abby assumed her grandmother had passed on.

  “Oh, no,” Rachelle corrected. “She lives in Tennessee in a little town called Soddy Daisy. Aunt Wanda is always bugging Gram to move in with her since my grandpa died. Gram has a hard time keeping up with yard work. I’ve always wanted to see what a place called Soddy Daisy looked like. I picture tons of flowers blooming in people’s yards besides lining every sidewalk and road median leading to town.”

  “Do you mean you’ve never visited her?” asked Abby. “You said you owned a car called an Escort.”

  “Yeah, I do, but I’ve never driven down since she moved there ten years ago. Big Al said he doesn’t do old-lady houses filled with doilies, knickknacks, and cat hair. And he said I was too stupid to find my way by myself. I do get lost pretty easily.”

  Abby lifted a brow. “That’s why they make maps. I can’t fathom not seeing your grandmother for a decade.”

  “I know it’s not right, but all that is about to change. No more Big Al telling me what I can and cannot do.” Her green eyes sparkled. “Besides, one of my friends bought a Garmin and she said I could borrow it whenever I needed to. My kids and I are heading south.”

  Abby had no chance to inquire about a Garmin because she spotted Deputy Todd with her clipboard, talking to several inmates. “Excuse me a minute, Rachelle. I must speak to the deputy. Today’s visiting day, and I’m hoping to see my attorney. I’ve made a decision and need to talk to him before I lose my courage.”

  Rachelle shrugged her shoulders. “Your lawyer doesn’t have to wait till Sunday to see you. He can request a meeting anytime he wants. Did you call his office?”

  “Jah, Friday morning right after breakfast, but he wasn’t in. I left a message on his voice mail to come see me, but I haven’t heard back.”

  “Yesterday was Saturday. He’ll probably pay you a social call on Monday. Lawyers don’t work on weekends, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up about today.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Abby hurried to catch the guard before she retreated from the common room.

  “Deputy Todd?” she asked. “If that’s the visitor roster, could you check if anyone has signed in to see me?”

  The kind woman smiled as she flipped through the sheets. “Hmm… Here we are. A Mr. Daniel Graber has come to visit. I think that guy might have a crush on you,” she teased. “He’s come back so soon.”

  “Daniel?” Her husband was even better than her lawyer. She wanted so much to begin mending the fences between them before facing another sleepless night.

  Abby couldn’t sit still at the metal table. She cracked her knuckles, straightened her shirt three times, and squeaked the chair against the linoleum until she drew stares from the other women. Finally, her beloved ehemann walked through the doorway, his felt hat in hand. She smiled in warm welcome and received the same response in return.

  “Guder mariye, fraa,” he said softly, slipping into the folding chair across from her. The web of lines around his eyes and mouth had etched deeper into his ruddy complexion. He reached for her hand, and she allowed it to be enveloped, savoring the human touch.

  “It’s so good to see you, Daniel. I didn’t think you would come again so soon. This is such a busy time on the farm, and Jake isn’t old enough to help.”

  “I have Isaiah. He works harder than two men. And I came because I have something to say, Abby. Something that won’t wait.”

  She felt a twinge of anxiety that she refused to acknowledge. “I spotted you in the crowd the night of the candlelight vigil. It warmed my heart to see you and members of our district out there. I heard the hymns, Daniel, and they sounded so sweet. Rachelle and I stayed at our window until the last candle was gone.”

  “Your daed was out there too. When he heard the women were organizing this, he hired two vans to bring them to town, paying out of his own pocket. He wouldn’t take any money toward the fare.”

  Abby exhaled with a whoosh. “That is a pleasant surprise. He can be hard-nosed at times.”

  Daniel nodded. “The women wished to voice their support. You delivered their babies, Abby. Every one of them was a grateful mother.”

  His tone conveyed the same pride surging through her blood. “Hearing that might make what I must do harder, but my mind’s made up.”

  He lifted his leathery palm. “Hold on. I’ve come today with something to say and I want to be heard. Then I’ll listen to you until the guard drags me out by my ear.”

  Abby’s twinge of anxiety expanded as her skin grew clammy. The air-conditioning had turned the room into a cellar in January.

  He blew out his breath through his nostrils. “I’ve been stubborn and hardheaded the whole time you’ve been in here. I took an oath to love and honor you. Then, when times get tough, I make things worse for you instead of better. That’s about to change.” He paused, meeting her gaze with eyes soft and moist. “You are my wife and I love you no matter what. Listen to your own heart about what to do about Margaret. I’ll stand behind your decision. Folks are divided in our district. Most are with you, but a couple say you deserve whatever you get. If those few people make your life uncomfortable later on, we’ll sell the farm and move to some place new. I heard that Minnesota has plenty of farmland a family can still buy for less than an arm and a leg.” He squeezed her fingers.

  She stared at the love of her life in disbelief.

  “Stick to your convictions, Abby. Y
ou have always had a good head on your shoulders, and I trust your judgment in this situation. I’m sorry I’ve given you a hard time about this. I love you, plain and simple.”

  She shut her open mouth with a snap and shook her head. “Daniel Graber, just when I thought I had everything figured out, you throw in a monkey wrench.” Her laughter drew smiles from those sitting at nearby tables. “I love you too.” Then she lowered her voice. “And I love my kinner and parents and sisters and brothers. That’s why I want to put this business behind me. I phoned my lawyer, asking him to stop by. There’s no reason to drag this out with a jury trial. I’m ready to plead guilty and put myself in God’s and Judge O’Neil’s hands. The sooner this is resolved, the sooner I can serve my time and return home to my family.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He hasn’t come to talk with me yet, this being the weekend. But if the judge still demands to know who supplied the Pitocin, I’m ready to comply. I’ll pray that Margaret will someday forgive me.”

  Daniel dropped his head, running both hands through his longish hair. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He sounded hoarse from worry and fatigue.

  “Let’s have faith that God will deliver the best solution for everyone involved. And before I forget, you need a haircut. Ask my schwester to give you a trim. You’re starting to look like one of those teenaged Englischers who hang out at the auction barn.”

  “Is her haircutting skill similar to her cooking and baking?” His question teemed with impish irony.

  “Pretty much, but I don’t see you losing any weight.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop on my way home and shell out ten bucks at the barber shop.”

  “Suit yourself. Now, how are the young ones and Catherine and Isaiah? Has she made any progress with him? She sounded bound and determined to teach him to talk.”

  While he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, Daniel told her the family vignettes and travails of daily farm life. Abby could tell he chose his words carefully to describe her sister’s insistence on taking Isaiah to a restaurant for dinner. Abby tamped down her growing excitement for Catherine’s project, deciding to let this matter play out on its own accord. Daniel’s opinion of the liaison was apparent, despite his diplomatic phrasing.

  After he filled her in on the news, he did something quite out of character. Just as they spotted the guard heading in their direction, he leaned over and kissed her squarely on the mouth. Such bold public demonstrations of affection were rare in the Amish community.

  Her daed would be speechless.

  The other brethren would be aghast.

  But Abigail Graber felt as joyous as a brand-new bride on her wedding day.

  Catherine tried not to think the worst about people, but it sure seemed as though Daniel was trying to keep Isaiah and her apart. She never saw him at breakfast, yet she found his empty plate on the porch by the time she finished morning chores. His lunch sack never went unclaimed, but Daniel usually insisted on delivering his noon meal when he retrieved his own sandwiches and fresh thermos. And apparently Daniel found too much work for his cousin to do, preventing him from sharing dinner at the kitchen table again with the family. She certainly hoped this was Daniel’s handiwork instead of Isaiah avoiding her. But by the fifth day, she had her doubts.

  I embarrassed him in the restaurant. I drew attention to us and to what I was trying to accomplish. If I’ve learned anything about him, Isaiah shuns the limelight at all costs.

  When she set his plate of meatloaf, lima beans, and carrots on the picnic table, she didn’t bother scanning the yard for his tall, lithe form. He was avoiding her, like a cat to water. Grim thoughts filled her mind as she washed the dinner dishes that night. So total was her pitiful self-absorption that she almost didn’t notice the soft tap on the kitchen window. Moving aside the curtains, she gazed on Isaiah, who was sitting with a napkin tucked into his shirt collar and eating his dinner with his usual hearty appetite. He grinned and motioned for her to join him on the porch. She held up a soapy plate and then her index finger and closed the curtain, but not before she offered a dazzling smile. Catherine yearned to leave the sink full of dishes for later that night, but that would only draw Daniel’s suspicion.

  After hanging up the dish towel to dry, she rinsed out her mouth with mouthwash, pulled off her soiled apron, and walked onto the porch with as much dignity as a breathless person could muster. “Good evening. Dinner good?” she asked, smoothing her kapp.

  “Jah, gut.” He patted his flat stomach and sprang to his feet. With gestures they both understood, he conveyed his desire for her to walk toward the back pasture to see something. She controlled herself from jumping up and down and asked how long would they be gone.

  Picking up the flashlight from the steps, he indicated a medium-length time period. Catherine stashed his dirty plate, glass, and silverware behind the potted fern and reached inside for her shawl. Goose bumps rose on her arms that had nothing to do with any cool breezes.

  The kinner were spending the night at their friends’ homes. Daniel had taken his hunting dog for a walk and would probably stop at the neighbors’ for a late cup of coffee. He would be gone for more than an hour. She had time to herself…they had time to themselves. Anticipation rose inside her like a stack of presents on Christmas morning.

  Once they were behind the barn, with little chance of being seen, Isaiah took her hand. It felt massive wrapped around hers; the calluses warm and oddly comforting, as though someone who worked so hard must be strong and protective. They swung hands like children as the path skirted the pasture and wound its way through the scrub brush. As daylight waned, the meadow came alive with sounds from indiscernible creatures that crawled, flew, or slithered. She stayed close to his side to avoid unexpected encounters with black snakes or skunks. Once she had crossed paths with a red fox and screamed as though her life hung in jeopardy. The unfortunate fox had bolted on sight, equally frightened by her.

  Isaiah occasionally glanced over his shoulder as though he too preferred not to run into his cousin along the way. Catherine tugged on his suspender to get his attention. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He winked slyly and put his finger to his lips, as though keeping a secret.

  Soon the trail left the scrub brush and entered the cool, dim woods. Darkness fell earlier in the forest because little light pierced the tall canopy even at the sun’s zenith. Isaiah switched on the flashlight and tightened his grip on her hand. Although she couldn’t see very well and heard strange noises around her, she didn’t worry. Utterly safe—that’s how she felt in his company.

  He quickened their pace as they skirted around his home. The cabin looked little more than a dark shadow in the gloom. They hopped a row of flat rocks to cross the creek, and then the path turned steeply uphill beyond the riverbank. Catherine breathed deeply, trying not to sweat or pant like a dog, but she had to take two steps for each one of his long strides. Just when her lungs began to burn and she was about to demand a slower pace, Isaiah stopped short and pulled her to his side.

  A clearing in the forest, formed by the death of several formidable trees, opened before them. The dead wood had been cut up and hauled away, leaving a mossy glen where wildflowers, mountain laurel, and wild dogwood grew. Though well past the blooming season, new growth had created a private grotto hidden to all but Isaiah…and now her. Light from the setting sun dappled the forest floor. Purple violets and white trilliums were bathed in gold, lending a mystical quality found usually only in storybooks.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she breathed, stepping into the glade. He followed close behind her, his hand resting on the small of her back. He flicked his flashlight beam across the clearing, illuminating a bench—a handmade wooden bench for two, sanded and stained for protection from the weather. She ran toward it as though it were a pot of gold beneath a rainbow. Plunking down on one end, she patted the spot beside her. Isaiah needed no invitation. He plunked down and draped an arm around her shou
lders.

  “Did you plant those?” she mouthed, pointing at the magnificent dogwood shrubbery, prized by gardeners everywhere.

  After a moment’s consideration, he indicated two of them.

  “Did you make this?” she asked, patting the bench where they sat. She tapped one fist on top of the other to mean “build” or “work.”

  He nodded affirmatively, his pride obvious even in the thin light.

  “Wunderbaar!” Her expression underscored the meaning of her word.

  “Danki,” he said as two white rabbits crept into the glade to nibble on tender young shoots. For a few minutes the couple watched the diners until Isaiah turned to face her on the bench. His sudden movement sent the rabbits scurrying into the brush. Hooking a thumb toward his chest, he patted the location of his heart with a fist and pointed at her.

  She knew what this meant. He liked her. Or he loved her. Either way, the sentiment filled her with joy as she repeated the gesture to him.

  He shrugged his shoulders and nodded, as though he’d known that particular tidbit for quite some time. Stretching out his long legs, he seemed content to sit in the growing darkness as the bunnies ventured from hiding once more.

  She smelled the scent of pine drifting on the breeze and the familiar fragrance of Ivory soap. He must have bathed in the river or showered in the barn just before showing up for supper. Whippoorwills called to one another from nearby trees while crickets and cicadas began their evening chorus. Catherine pulled up the shawl around her neck, not because of any chill but to keep mosquitoes from feasting on exposed skin. She was glad she’d forgotten to grab the can of bug repellant. Somehow its odor might have intruded on the idyllic serenity in Isaiah’s secret garden.

  Inhaling a deep breath for courage, she peered into his chiseled face—his high cheekbones and strong jaw, his clear olive skin and dark, shadowy eyes—and broached a subject she’d been mulling over for days. After several misunderstood pantomimes, she finally managed to ask, “Would you go with me to a party?”