Timothy and I both stood.
“Harshberger College,” I said. “I met you in Dean Klink’s office.”
“That’s right. You’re the computer whiz. Welcome, welcome. Benni told me that you are here about the Appleseed Creek project. Are you looking to buy a home?”
I stifled a laugh. There was no way I could afford one of Mathews’s homes.
He didn’t wait for an answer, but instead shook Timothy’s hand. “Your last name is Troyer?”
“That’s right,” Timothy said.
“Do you have any connection to the Troyer Farm in Knox County?”
“It belongs to my family.”
Mathews’s smile grew wider. “Wonderful. I have been having trouble connecting with you and your family. Your name’s not Simon, is it?”
“That’s my father. I’m Timothy Troyer.”
His grin lit up his face, showing off his ultrawhite teeth. “I’m happy someone from the family is here to talk about the project. Let’s go back.” He waved at his secretary. “Benni, hold all of my calls.”
Mathews’s office was three times the size of Dean Klink’s. A chrome and glass meeting table that could comfortably seat ten dominated half of the space. Black leather executive chairs encircled the table. Mathews sat on one slightly larger than all the others. Timothy and I sat across from him, our backs to a window that overlooked High Street.
Mathews folded his hands on the tabletop. “I’m so glad you stopped by. I hope this means your father has changed his mind and is willing to sell. Like I told him, I don’t want to push him off of his land. He’s welcome to live there and sell me a portion. What I’m offering will give him a comfortable retirement.”
Timothy’s jaw twitched. “The Amish don’t retire. At least not in a way you understand.”
Mathews’s expression fell. “If he would like to continue to farm, he will have plenty of room for it.” He wrinkled his nose. “I would have to ask him to remove the cows though. The smell would upset my clients.”
I tilted my chin. “He’s a dairy farmer. How can he do that without cows?”
“He won’t need to. I will pay him more than the cows are worth.” Mathews stood and picked a long tube from a rack beside his desk. He opened it and removed a map of Knox County that covered a third of the table. He ran his fingers along the map until he came to the location of the Troyer farm, outlining it. “This is how much land your father would be able to keep. We are considering purchasing three quarters of your father’s property, which will leave him with over fifty acres of land, more than enough to keep him occupied for years to come.”
Timothy’s jaw twitched again.
“What about the Glick farm?” I asked.
Mathews traced that area and frowned. “The Troyer Farm is on the outskirts, but the Glick Farm is right in the middle of our development plan. We hope to purchase the entire thing.” He rolled up the map. “You know the family, I assume.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He dropped the map back into the tube, and it made a pop when it hit the bottom of the container. “It’s such a tragedy what happened to the family. I saw it in the Mount Vernon newspaper. However, with what I’m offering, there is an opportunity for the widow and her children to move to town. That must be too much land for them to care for.”
“The bishop has sons. The farm will go to them.” I sat rigid in my chair. “Why would the widow sell it?”
Mathews wrinkled his forehead. “Young men don’t want to be held back by a farm.”
I coughed out a laugh. “I don’t think the Amish agree with you.” When did I become an Amish expert? Two weeks ago I knew virtually nothing about them.
Timothy remained silent, but his strong jaw twitched every time the old football hero spoke.
I continued with my line of questioning. “If the Glick family doesn’t sell, will you be able to develop in Knox County?”
Mathews’s perpetual smile tightened. “Under the circumstances, I believe the widow will sell. It is in her best interest—and in the best interest of her family. This can make her a wealthy woman. She has no idea how much money she’s sitting on.”
“What if she doesn’t want wealth?” I asked.
Mathews looked at me like I was crazy.
Timothy broke his silence. “So the bishop’s death worked to your advantage.”
Mathews’s head snapped up. “No, of course not. His death is a tragedy. I’ve already shared my condolences with the family. I am only offering a way for the widow and her children to rebuild their lives.”
Timothy shook his head. “The Amish rebuild their own lives. They don’t need your help or money.”
I folded my hands in my lap. “You argued with the bishop about the land not long before he died.”
Mathews jumped from his seat. “What are you getting at?”
I shivered inside, imagining what Mathews looked like as a formidable force on the football field. He glared at Timothy. “I thought you were here to discuss my offer for your father’s farm.”
“It’s not my place to speak for my father,” Timothy said. “But he won’t sell. My father won’t want to quit farming. Working on the land is all he knows.”
Mathews’s smile faded. “Why are you here?”
I spoke up. “Do you know anything about the accident?”
Mathews stepped back. “The one that killed the bishop?” His eyes narrowed. “Of course not. You came all the way to Columbus to ask me that?”
“I saw one of your utility trucks outside of the town the evening after the accident.”
“So? I have dozens of employees with responsibilities all over central Ohio. One of them must have been out there on a job. Is that a crime?” He set the tube containing the Knox County map on his desk.
“Depends on the job,” Timothy said.
Mathews drew in a sharp breath between his perfect white teeth. “I’m offended by what you are implying. I think we are through here. Benni will show you out. I have work to do.” He opened his office door and slammed it behind Timothy and me.
As we returned to the truck, the sky darkened in the west. Mabel stood in the back of the pickup and barked.
“What’s gotten into her?” I asked. The usually lazy dog stood ramrod straight as if mimicking a pointer. As soon as Timothy lowered the tailgate, she jumped out and ran around, circling the truck.
Timothy grabbed her collar and pointed to the sky. “The weather’s got her spooked. A storm must be coming. She’s terrified of them.” He laughed. “She’s not cut out to be a country dog.” He opened the door to the cab, and Mabel jumped inside without being asked. She wiggled into the backseat and made three loops before finding a spot that suited her. Finally, she lay down, but this time she didn’t fall asleep. Her eyes stayed wide open and worried.
I climbed in too. “Scotch said a big storm was coming.”
“He was right.” Timothy started the truck.
We battled gridlock all the way to US 36, and the sky grew darker with each passing minute.
Timothy leaned out of his opened window. “I hope we can get off the interstate before it hits.”
“How far are we from Appleseed Creek?”
Timothy gave me a small smile. “Depends on the traffic.” He reached into the back of the truck, pulled out an old sweatshirt, and handed it to me. “You look tired. Why don’t you take a nap?”
“I’m not tired.” I rolled it into a pillow anyway. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if Grandfather Zook would talk to us about Grayson Mathews’s offer to buy the farm.
A huge clap of thunder startled me awake, and I banged my head on the passenger side window. The sweatshirt I had been using as a pillow lay on the floor. Mabel whimpered in the backseat.
“It’s okay
, girl.” Timothy tried to soothe Mabel, but he could’ve been speaking to me.
A lightning bolt sliced through the dark sky in front of us. Timothy sat up straight in his seat, his tanned hands white at the knuckles.
“What time is it?” I asked.
He kept his eyes on the road. “Six thirty.”
“It looks like midnight.” I leaned forward for a better view of the sky. A large wall cloud floated just west of the truck over a cornfield. The Kokosing River was to our east, its usually clear water churning and foaming.
Fat rain drops began to fall from the sky. Timothy wagged his head. “I don’t like that sky.” In one motion, he turned on the wipers and the radio, tuning it to the local Mount Vernon station.
Until eight p.m. Knox, Richland, Ashland, and Holmes counties are under a severe thunderstorm warning. Knox and Richland counties are under a tornado watch until seven p.m.
Another lightning bolt. Another crack of thunder.
Timothy’s leg flexed as he pressed down on the gas pedal.
I stared at the sky. “I’ve never seen a cloud like that before.”
“I have.”
I didn’t find that comforting.
Another crack of thunder and rain started to fall in sheets. The truck began to slow.
I stared at Timothy. “Why are you slowing down?”
He kept his grip on the steering wheel. “There’s water on the road. We could hydroplane.”
We were on a downward slope to the river. Water had formed puddles in the dips and ridges of the road.
“This road floods frequently.” Again, he spoke calmly.
I swallowed. “How far are we from town?”
“Ten miles.”
The emergency warning sound came through the truck speakers like a foghorn.
Knox County is under a tornado warning. It has been confirmed a tornado is on the ground.
My stomach clenched. Mabel leaned her head over the seat, and I stroked her cheek with my hand.
Eyewitness accounts spotted a twister making its way up Glenn River Road. If you are in this area, please take cover!
Through the sheets of rain cascading down my window, I caught sight of a street sign. I only caught the first word: Glenn.
I shouted above the din. “Timothy, what road are we on?”
Timothy hit the brakes and did a U-turn in the middle of the road. My seatbelt tightened across my chest. I tugged it away from my throat.
Mabel started barking, and I clapped a hand over my left ear. Abruptly, Timothy pulled the truck to a stop and threw it into park. “We have to get out of the truck.”
“Out of the truck? Are you crazy?”
Lightning flashed and made the inside of the truck cabin as sunny as a summer afternoon. I could see the distress etched on Timothy’s face.
Please take cover, folks! This is a tornado warning. A tornado is on the ground in Knox County. The twister is headed south on Glenn River Road.
“Get out!” Timothy shouted
I fumbled with the door handle. As soon as I opened the door, I was soaking wet. My sneakers swished as they hit the wet asphalt. I could barely see beyond my hand. Timothy touched my arm, and I jumped as another clap of thunder shook the earth.
Timothy pointed to the side of the road. “Get in the drainage ditch.”
Rain ran down my face and into my eyes. Is he serious? Dear God, help us!
He reached into the truck and pulled Mabel out by the collar. She fought against him and barked hysterically. “It’s okay, girl. It’s okay.” He coaxed her out of the truck.
The dog’s nails scraped across the wet pavement as Timothy dragged her by the collar. He grabbed my hand on the way and pulled me with him. We stumbled down a slick grass bank. Two inches of muddy water filled the ditch.
Timothy shouted as he pushed me into the ditch. “Keep your face out of the water.” Rocks dug into my palms and knees. Mud splattered my face. A twig dug into my side.
“Lay down, Mabel.”
I felt the large dog press against my side. Then Timothy lay on top of both of us, covering our heads. Harsh breaths puffed out of my chest. Mabel whimpered, and her doggie breath puffed into my face. A horrible sound like tearing metal shrieked all around us.
I closed my eyes, buried my face in Mabel’s wet shoulder, and waited for it all to be over.
Chapter Forty-Two
Timothy touched my cheek. “Chloe, it’s over.”
I opened one eye. Timothy’s bright blue eyes stared at me through a mask of mud. A leaf stuck to his forehead. I reached over and plucked it off.
He smiled at me. “You look awful.”
“So do you.”
Mabel sat beside Timothy also covered in mud. She howled and shook her entire body, sending mud and leaves flying all over us. A leaf landed inside my mouth, and I spat it out. “Yuck!”
Timothy started laughing.
I giggled, despite myself. He helped me up, and I stumbled, bracing myself on his arm. It was still raining, but not nearly as hard. Instead of bolts of lightning, the sky lit with white flashes. I sighed and counted. “Thirteen Mississippi. It’s moving away.”
In another flash of lightning, I saw his smile, but not the truck. My heart sank. “Did your truck get sucked up in the tornado? Can we get out of here?”
“It’s still here. Just not exactly where I left it.”
Mabel stayed close to my side as Timothy helped me up the steep bank out of the drainage ditch. The truck had landed a few yards away, the powerful force turning it so it lay east and west across the road instead of north and south. In another flash of lightning, I saw the tornado’s path. It had made a sharp turn east off the highway and into a cornfield. A line the width of a small house cut through the corn rows almost like a crop circle.
No one could blame this on E.T.
Timothy patted the dog’s head. “Can you stay here with Mabel? I’m going to see if the pickup is okay and turn it around.”
Mabel leaned against my leg as Timothy ran into the road. Rain, which was still coming down in sheets, dripped off the tip of my nose. Every so often the shaggy dog would shake off some of the water collecting on her fur. If it made her feel better, I didn’t mind. It wasn’t like I could get any wetter—or dirtier for that matter.
The truck stalled the first two times Timothy tried to start the engine. I shivered. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped on this lonely stretch of county road in the middle of a thunderstorm. The storm was moving away, but until it passed, there was always the potential for more tornados. Scotch had been right about the weather after all. I wondered how the greenhouse and Becky faired. Uncontrollable shivers tried to overtake me, and I dug my fingers deep into Mabel’s fur.
The engine started on his third attempt, and slowly Timothy turned the truck in the right direction. Mabel and I ran to it and jumped inside.
“You okay?” he asked.
I started laughing even though it wasn’t funny. “I can’t believe we were just in the middle of a tornado. When I tell Tanisha, she’ll be shocked.”
“What about your family?”
I stared out the windshield. Rain rolled down the windowpane in waves.
“Did I say something wrong?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have much family outside of Tanisha and her parents.”
“No family is perfect,” he said. “Not even an Amish one.”
“Your family seems close to it.”
He laughed. “My father would disagree since two of his five children have left the district.”
I bit my lip. “Why did you leave?”
He wiped his muddy hands on the edge of his T-shirt. “I’m not good enough for that life.”
“What do you mean
?”
“I wasn’t good enough in the eyes of my district. I made mistakes.”
Chief Rose’s warning about Timothy not being as good as he appeared came back to me. “Did something happen?” I shivered again.
He reached under his seat and pulled out an old sweatshirt. “Put this on. You must be freezing.”
I wrapped the sweatshirt around my shoulders, convinced that he would never answer my question.
“I was in the middle of rumspringa and thought I was invincible. My carpentry skills were in high demand. I had jobs all over the county. Aaron is my closest friend, and I asked him to work with me even though I knew he wasn’t a skilled carpenter.” Timothy sighed. “He’d helped me on jobs and made mistakes, which I always covered up because I wanted to work with my friend. We were working on a house in Mount Vernon one morning. The Englisch family wanted a balcony to be built off the third-floor master bedroom. Aaron wanted to do it, and I let him.”
“What happened?”
“When he was done with the project, I could tell right away it wasn’t stable, and I told Aaron so. He got angry at me, and we fought. I told him, ‘If you’re so sure it’s safe, go jump on it.’” Timothy shuddered, his voice grew thick. “Aaron will do anything to prove a point, and he jumped on it. At first it held . . .” Timothy stopped in the middle of the trail again.
“You were right about the balcony,” I whispered.
He nodded. “He fell twenty feet, and broke his back.”
I cupped a hand to my face. “Aaron was paralyzed from the fall.”
He nodded his head. “It’s my fault.” Rain coursed down the windshield.
I squeezed his hand. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered. “Even if you don’t believe that, Aaron has forgiven you.”
“I know.” He didn’t let go of my hand.
We listened to the rain hit the roof of the pickup’s cabin for a minute. I broke the silence. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I wanted to tell you because you think you have no family.” Timothy rubbed his thumb along my wrist. “You have Tanisha and her family, and you have Becky too.” He paused. “Look at me.”
Appleseed Creek Trilogy, Books 1-3 Page 22