Breath of Spring

by Hubbard, Charlotte

  The sheriff was a middle-aged fellow, heavy-set but with an air of stern efficiency about him. “Receiving two calls from Willow Ridge—”

  “One from your brother, and the other from your bishop,” Officer McClatchey clarified.

  “—gave me the idea we’d better check it out,” Banks confirmed as he studied the house. “Domestic disturbance, is it?”

  Adam wasn’t sure about the lawman’s lingo, but as he began to tell what he knew, glass tinkled behind him. A saltshaker flew out the window, and the shriek that followed it could only be Annie Mae’s.

  “No!” she cried out. “Don’t you cut my hair! Anything but—”

  The horrified heartbreak in her voice was more than Adam could stand. Amish girls were taught from birth that tampering with their hair was a sacrilege of the unholiest sort. Ignoring Officer McClatchey’s suggestion to wait—to let the two of them go in first—Adam bolted toward the side door and then into the house.

  The scene in the kitchen turned his stomach. Annie Mae was struggling and kicking, mewling like a terrified kitten, as Yonnie stood in front of her, pinning her arms to her sides. Delilah stood behind her, holding Annie Mae’s waist-length ebony braid away from her neck. Adam’s first impulse was to rush over and pry Annie Mae out of her captor’s grip, but her father’s stance and expression stopped him in his tracks.

  Hiram stood poised with a straight razor. He looked over at Adam, laughed, and then—with one horrible whack—he lopped off his daughter’s hair. Annie Mae’s screams had risen to fever pitch, but at the vicious hiss of the razor she stopped struggling . . . hung her head to sob dejectedly.

  “This is what happens to those who disobey the Ordnung and defy me,” Knepp said coldly. “Annie Mae no longer deserves to be my daughter—or a child of God. So the Lord told me to—”

  “That’s wrong, and you know it!” Adam protested.

  “Hold it right there, Mr. Knepp,” the sheriff asserted in a no-nonsense voice. He and Officer McClatchey had stepped inside during the commotion, stopping on either side of Adam. “You’ve done enough damage here. We don’t want anybody getting cut with that razor.”

  “Get out of my house,” Hiram snapped. He scowled at Adam. “You had no right to bring them here, Wagler. We discipline our own rather than allowing English law enforcement to—”

  “It was Tom Hostetler who called me,” Officer McClatchey countered. Both lawmen were slowly approaching the four folks who stood in the middle of the kitchen. “He suspected that Annie Mae had been abducted in the blue convertible that’s parked outside. What would you know about that, Mr. Stoltzfus?”

  The fact that these uniformed officers knew his name took some of the starch out of Yonnie’s smug expression. He let go of Annie Mae and glanced nervously at Hiram.

  Clyde Banks stopped a few feet away from them. “Doesn’t matter whether you answer that, young man. We’ve heard from three witnesses who saw and heard you burning rubber to get out of Willow Ridge, with Annie Mae in your car,” he said as he extended his beefy hand. “Now, if you’ll close that razor and hand it over, Mr. Knepp, we’ll talk about this in a rational manner.”

  But the foul deed had been done. Adam regretted looking at Annie Mae in her shame and torment, without a kapp covering her head, yet he didn’t dare take his eyes off the scene. Her ragged-edged hair stopped just below her ears now—not much longer than his own. Delilah was backing toward the wastebasket with Annie Mae’s long black braid.

  “Don’t even think about throwing that away!” Adam cried as he glanced around the cluttered kitchen. He grabbed a plastic shopping bag from the counter. “If you think what you’ve done to Annie Mae is fair, or decent, or Christian—well, let’s cut off your hair now! ‘Do unto others’—like the Golden Rule.”

  “Get away from me,” Delilah jeered. “No one wants you here, so get out.”

  When she threw the braid at Adam, as though it were a menacing black snake, he stuffed it in the sack. What he’d do with Annie Mae’s hair, he had no idea, but his pulse was pounding so furiously he could only act on impulse. Meanwhile, the sheriff had taken the razor—without Hiram slashing at him, thank goodness—and Yonnie was stepping away from Annie Mae as though she had a contagious disease.

  “Come on, honey-girl, I’ll take you home,” Adam murmured, extending his hand to her.

  “Do you want to press charges, Annie Mae?” Officer McClatchey asked quietly. “From what we’ve heard, you were abducted—brought here against your will—”

  “To her father’s home,” Hiram interjected hotly. “Annie Mae is a disgrace to her faith and her family—but again, this is no concern of yours, McClatchey. I’ve had enough of your fines and interference and—”

  “And I’ve had my fill of calls about you,” the policeman retorted. Then he resumed his usual calm demeanor, used a gentler tone as he addressed Annie Mae again. “If you press charges, we can take these three to the station and—”

  Annie Mae’s red-rimmed eyes widened fearfully. She covered her face and then shook her head, whimpering.

  “There’s your answer for now,” Adam murmured as he slipped an arm around her shaking shoulders. “Let’s get you back to—”

  “I—I can’t go anywhere lookin’ like this,” Annie Mae rasped. She began to cry again as she clung to him. “What will Miriam and the rest of them say? What will the kids think if I tell them Dat—”

  “You brought this on yourself, when you walked out on me at Christmas,” Hiram reminded her coldly. “The children witnessed your defiance—your disobedience—then, so they will now see the consequences of your poor choices. You can tell them you’re no longer my daughter because—”

  “Enough out of you!” Adam cried. He badly wanted to get Annie Mae out of this house before she endured any more degradation. Leaning closer to her, he wished he knew how to make her feel better . . . knowing such magical phrases didn’t exist for an Amish girl who’d been defiled by her own father. “We’ll figure it out,” Adam reassured her. “If anybody knows an answer to this, Miriam will, ain’t so? Shall we go to her place?”

  “I—I can’t let folks see me—”

  “You can wear my helmet. Nobody’ll know it’s you.”

  Her eyes widened when she realized which vehicle she’d be riding back to Willow Ridge.

  “Or, if it would make you feel safer, these fellows will take you home,” Adam said, nodding toward the two lawmen.

  Annie Mae shuddered and then she sniffled loudly. “Let’s go, Adam. We’ll let the officers finish up here.”

  Gripping the plastic bag, Adam steered her gently toward the door. Annie Mae felt so fragile, and her expression held such anguish as they stepped outside into the early spring sunshine. Gingerly, she reached behind her head to feel the blunt edges of her hair, and then burst into fresh tears. “I didn’t think Dat would really do it,” she whimpered. “He snatched away my kapp and then Delilah unpinned my bun, and—I’m so embarrassed for ya to see me this way—”

  “Shhh,” Adam murmured. “I know you for who you really are.”

  “And—and here ya stuck out your neck, riskin’ a ride on your motorcycle to come after me,” she continued in a hiccuppy voice, “and I can’t even have the fun I’ve been daydreamin’ of, ridin’ the roads with ya. I’m a real bad mess, Adam. Not makin’ any sense, and I’m sorry—so sorry—”

  Adam hugged Annie Mae’s shoulders. “You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong,” he insisted. “Everybody in Willow Ridge will side with you when they see—”

  “But I can’t stand for anybody to see me this way! Especially the kids!”

  Adam sighed as they walked toward his cycle. This wasn’t her vanity talking, it was her lifelong upbringing in the Old Order. There were no right answers, and if they lingered while Annie Mae kept spinning in this doleful conversational circle, she ran the risk of hearing more of Hiram’s abusive remarks. Adam gently placed the black helmet over her head. “You look like one tough biker babe
, you know it?” he teased as he fastened the chin strap. “I wish the ride was going to be easier on your backside, but hang on tight and I’ll get you back to town in a few. All right?”

  Adam straddled the motorcycle to hold it steady, facing forward while Annie Mae gathered her dress up and then swung her leg over the cycle to settle behind his seat. He put the white bag into the compartment in front of him, so her braid would remain safe while they rode. As she slipped her arms around his waist, he, too, wished they could be riding the roads together under more carefree circumstances. Adam kicked the starter lever, let the engine idle for a moment, and then eased the cycle away from Hiram’s front porch.

  When they’d reached the road, Annie Mae leaned closer to talk near his ear. “So—what’ll ya tell Miriam and Preacher Ben when we pull up and you’re drivin’ this cycle?”

  This change of topic—the hint of playfulness in her voice—sent shivers through him. Adam wished he could pivot in Annie Mae’s embrace to kiss her, but this wasn’t the right time—even if she hadn’t been wearing his helmet. She had asked a legitimate question, though.

  “Guess I’ll start by telling the truth,” he replied. “Between your story and mine, the Hooleys are in for quite an earful.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When the motorcycle stopped alongside Ben and Miriam’s house and the engine went quiet, Annie Mae kept her arms around Adam. He had been her rock, someone solid to cling to after she’d been abducted. Defiled. Shattered. As her breathing kept time with his, she wished she could stay right here, soaking up Adam’s strength and warmth, beneath the camouflage of his helmet. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand up. Her joints felt like melting gelatin and her heart . . . her heart cried out for God’s mercy even as she wondered where God had gone after Yonnie had tossed her into his car.

  Adam wove his fingers between hers, wrapping her arms more tightly around his sturdy midsection. “Are you all right, Annie Mae?”

  She winced. He meant well—had no idea how that question would haunt her, just as she couldn’t imagine when she’d have a positive answer to it. She sighed forlornly, hanging on to him for as long as she could.

  “Dumb question. Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Denki for gettin’ me here . . . away from Dat.” After several more seconds passed, Annie Mae raised her head. “Might as well go inside,” she mumbled. “The sooner we break the news, the sooner I can deal with it.”

  Adam toed the kickstand down and then eased out of her arms, standing alongside the cycle to help her off. Sensing her need to remain covered, he kept the helmet in place but lifted the dark shield in front of her eyes. “If there’s anything I can do—anybody I can fetch so you can talk to them—”

  Oh, how I miss you, Mamma. Annie Mae remained upright somehow, yet inside she was caving in, wishing Adam didn’t have to endure more of her tears and anguish.

  “—just say the word,” he continued in a voice that caressed her scarred soul. “I had no idea your dat would do such a spiteful, hateful thing to you.”

  Annie Mae clenched her eyes against a stream of fresh tears. “Well, since I’m not his daughter anymore, I guess that’s the finish of it,” she muttered. “He won’t be comin’ back ever again to torment me, ain’t so?”

  Even as the words rushed from her mouth she didn’t believe them—and she regretted the anguished expression she’d put on Adam’s face. Viewing him from the narrow opening of the helmet limited her vision . . . this must be how a horse felt while wearing blinders. And maybe, far as Adam was concerned, she had only seen a small part of him even though she’d known him all her life.

  “Not if I can help it, your dat won’t be coming at ya again,” Adam blurted. “Oh, honey-girl, when he raised that razor to—”

  Adam crushed her in a hug, burying his face against her shoulder. Once again Annie Mae wished he were taller, for times like these when she needed to feel protected by a man’s height and size, and yet . . . hadn’t Adam Wagler rushed to her rescue again and again these past months? Hadn’t he proven that his fortitude came not from physical superiority but from a well of compassion that seemed to be bottomless? When Adam looked up into her eyes again, Annie Mae saw a fierce determination—a steadfast devotion—like no other man had ever shown her.

  So why am I figurin’ this out now, after I’ve been ruined? When I’m so untouchable—unclean—that no decent fella would have me?

  Annie Mae swallowed these bitter sentiments about how blind she’d been. Plenty of other bridges had to be crossed today, without throwing romance into the mix, making the situation stickier.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled again. “I’m supposed to be the man here, taking charge, instead of knuckling under to my own—”

  “Adam Wagler, you’re the strongest, most reliable—most decent—fella I know,” Annie Mae blurted. “There’s not a sorry thing about ya, far as bein’ weak or fallin’ . . . short.”

  His lips quirked. He took a moment to soak up what she’d just said as he smiled at her reference to his size. “Well, then,” he said in a bolder voice, “shall we see what Miriam and Ben and Tom have to say? That’s the bishop’s rig parked by the corral.”

  Annie Mae blinked. She’d been so focused on her own aching heart that she hadn’t noticed the unhitched buggy by the pasture gate. It made perfect sense that if Tom had called the sheriff, he had also come here to confer with the district’s strongest new preacher. “What if Tom brought the kids? What’ll I—”

  “Whatever comes along, we’ll handle it,” Adam murmured as he got the plastic bag out of his front compartment. He grasped her hand. “Your brothers and sisters will always love ya, Annie Mae. It’s your hair ya lost, not your heart. Not your self, nor your soul.”

  Oh, but she wanted to kiss him for saying that, but it would only complicate her life further. Nodding, she started for the door, savoring the warmth of his sturdy hand wrapped around hers. “Denki, Adam,” she murmured. “Can’t thank ya enough.”

  “You already have, honey-girl.”

  Once they had knocked and Miriam answered the door—and then welcomed her with a fierce embrace—Annie Mae wondered why she’d been so afraid to come to these folks. Ben and Tom rushed over to them, too, and Rebecca came out of her room, but Miriam wasn’t letting go of her.

  “Annie Mae! When we heard about Yonnie—oh my stars, but it’s gut to see ya back here safe and—” Miriam stepped back then, gazing at the helmet that covered her entire head. “Why on God’s gut Earth are ya wearin’ a black helmet, honey-bug?”

  Adam cleared his throat. “Well, there’s my story about that, and there’s Annie Mae’s,” he replied in a low voice. “You’ll hear them both, but I think we’d better show you . . . what her father’s done to her.”

  “So Yonnie took her to Hiram’s place?” Bishop Tom asked. “Naz and Jerusalem heard that blue car takin’ off like a screamin’ demon, and we figured there’d be trouble.”

  “Jah, well . . . here it is.” Annie Mae held her breath, grateful for the way Adam helped her with the unfamiliar chin strap and then assisted with the lifting of his bulky headgear. As the helmet cleared her neck and then the top of her uncovered head, everyone in the room sucked in their breath.

  “Let me get ya a kapp, child,” Miriam said as she rushed toward the stairway. “Who could’ve believed Hiram would—”

  Rebecca’s hand flew to her mouth, while Ben and Tom stared and then looked away, out of respect for her appearance . . . her shame. Annie Mae hung her head, wondering how many times she’d have to relive today’s humiliation . . . how many folks she would have to repeat her story for. . . .

  “Your dat did this to ya?” Ben asked in a raw whisper.

  “It’s a sacrilege,” Bishop Tom muttered. “An abomination, and a sign of the evil that’s infected every part of him now.”

  Evil. It was the word she’d not dared to use in reference to her father, yet Annie Mae felt somewhat comforted . . . vindicated, becau
se Bishop Tom had called a spade a spade. “The sheriff asked if I wanted to press charges, but—”

  Annie Mae pivoted on her heel, overcome once again by shame and a pain that refused to be relieved. “I couldn’t do it,” she continued in a tiny voice. “I was too scared of him comin’ back to snatch the kids—to hurt you, Tom, because I’m stayin’ with ya. He—he says I’m no longer his daughter and not a child of God, either—”

  “Well that’s a lie!” Ben blurted.

  “Don’t ya believe anything that man says,” Bishop Tom said vehemently.

  “Those are words no child should ever hear—and a question from the police that no child should ever have to answer.” Rebecca strode forward, engulfing Annie Mae in her embrace. “I am so sorry, Annie Mae. I can’t imagine the hurt you’ve endured.”

  Adam held up the white plastic sack. “I—I’m not sure why I grabbed it, but after Hiram lopped off her hair with a straight razor, I just had to save it.”

  “A razor?” Miriam exclaimed as she hurried back with a fresh pleated kapp. “My stars, what was that man thinkin’? The Lord be praised that he didn’t use it on you, Adam.”

  Rebecca peered sadly into the sack, shaking her head. Then she looked up as Miriam was unsuccessfully trying to fit the prayer covering over the blunt ends of Annie Mae’s hair. “When I wear a kapp, I comb my hair back and wind the ends into curls, held in place by a couple of bobby pins. It keeps the hair flat against my head.”

  Annie Mae had seen Rebecca in her Plain clothing when she’d celebrated her birthday with Rhoda and Rachel, and at Miriam and Ben’s wedding—and just last month at Tom and Naz’s ceremony. “I was wonderin’ how ya got your short hair to stay put.”

  Rebecca took Annie Mae’s hand. “Come on back to my room, and I’ll show you how I do it. And let’s take your braid, too. I have an idea.”