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.”
I turned my head to look into his face.
“And you have me.”
After a few seconds, he let go of my hand, switched on the wipers, and shifted the pickup into drive. The sensation of his touch stayed with me.
By the time we drove into Appleseed Creek, the sky was starting to lighten, and the heavy rain transformed into a fine mist. Tree limbs were down around the town, and a park bench on the square overturned. All minor damage when it could have been so much worse.
In bare feet, Becky ran to the truck to meet us. “Timothy! Chloe! I was so worried!” I climbed out of the pickup, and the teenager threw her arms around me. “I tried to call your cell phone, but it went r
ight to voicemail.”
I hugged her back. Timothy was right. I had Becky too.
Becky threw her arms around her brother next.
He hugged her back. “I’d better get going. Both Mabel and I need a bath.” He caught my eye. “Chloe, remember what I said.”
As if I could forget.
I removed my mud-soaked sneakers and left them on the front porch. I didn’t have much hope for them.
“Becky, can you bring me a towel? I don’t want to track all over the house.”
Inside the door, I stripped down to my underwear and wrapped the towel around my body. “There, I feel better already. Where were you during the storm? Were you already home?”
She nodded. “Scotch closed the greenhouse at two because he said a storm was on the way. He and Cookie dropped me off here around two thirty. I thought he was crazy because it was fine until six, and then the storm broke loose.”
“How did you know there was a tornado?”
“The tornado sirens went off. I took Gigabyte and went down into the basement.” She shivered. “If you think the upstairs of the house is bad, don’t go down in the basement. It’s a hundred times worse.”
Why am I not surprised?
I let my gaze wander around the room. “Where’s Gig?”
“Hiding. He was terrified.” She showed me an inch-long scratch on her arm.
“Ouch. Are you okay?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t mean it.”
“Still, you should put something on that.”
She wiggled her fingers sticking out of the hot pink cast. “I’m worried about my family. I tried to call the shed phone, but a voice said the line was disconnected. What if that tornado hit the farm?”
Through the window, the sky was clear and blue. At only eight o’clock, the sun hadn’t yet set.
“I won’t be able to sleep until I know they are okay. I should have asked Timothy to take me there before he left.” She picked up the cordless phone. “I’ll call him and ask him to take us.”
“No.” I wasn’t ready to see Timothy again so soon. I needed to sort out what I thought about our conversation in the pickup. Did he care about me? Am I reading too much into it? “Timothy must be exhausted from driving to Columbus and back. Let me take a quick shower and change. We can take my car. I’m sure everyone is fine, but I know we will both feel better when we are absolutely certain.”
Chapter Forty-Three
As we drove to the Troyer farm, the countryside glistened in the setting sun. We turned onto the road to the farm, but within a few yards of the driveway, could go no farther. An enormous pine tree lay across the lane. I stopped the Prizm, the long branches scratching the hood of the car. I stared at the scene. “Wow.”
“The tornado passed through here,” Becky whispered. She jumped out of the car and ran through the wet grass and disappeared around the base of the tree.
“Becky!”
She didn’t even pause. I jumped out of the car and jogged after her. As I rounded the tree, I saw the Troyer house unharmed by the storm. The only other sign that bad weather had passed through was an overturned bench, the one I sat on with Grandfather Zook a few days earlier.
Becky froze in front of the house. Her chest heaved up and down.
The screen door opened, slamming against the house. Mr. Troyer stomped outside. Becky stepped toward him, but pulled up short. In three strides her father stood in front of her and pulled his eldest daughter into an embrace, the deacon’s warning unheeded. She buried her face in his shoulder and cried as any little girl who needed her father would.
Naomi, Ruth, and Thomas ran from the house and wrapped their small arms around their sister and father. Even Naomi’s faceless doll was squashed in the embrace. Grandfather Zook followed them at a much slower pace, the old man grinning from ear to ear. Mrs. Troyer stood in the doorway, watching her husband and Becky holding each other, a hand to her mouth.
Grandfather Zook hobbled in my direction. “Timothy is okay too,” I said. “Becky and I saw him after the tornado.” I decided not to mention the trip to Columbus or about my being trapped in a drainage ditch with his grandson and Mabel. Grandfather Zook may be more lax than his brethren, but he was still Amish.
“Gut.” The old man’s eyes twinkled as if he knew there was more to the story. He leaned heavily on his crutches and seemed more stooped over than usual. His crutches left deep indentations in the saturated earth. He smiled. “Don’t give me that worried look. I’ll be fine. The change in weather always affects my old bones, and crawling in and out of the root cellar to avoid a tornado is more activity than I’m used to.” He examined the overturned bench, pointing a crutch at it. “Can you pick up the bench so we can sit?”
I did as asked.
Grandfather Zook settled onto the bench with a sigh. “Much better.” He exhaled a deep breath and looked to me. “Thank you for bringing Becky here. Her mother was beside herself. This was the first tornado we’ve had since both Timothy and Becky left home. It’s hard on my Martha.”
“How did you know it was tornado?” I asked. “You don’t have TV or a radio. Can you hear the sirens all the way out here?”
He laughed a deep belly laugh. “What do you think people did before all those gadgets? Long before television and radio, farmers learned to read the sky.” He pointed at Becky with his crutch. “I see Becky went shopping.”
I glanced at Becky in her T-shirt and jeans. “Maybe she should have changed before we stopped by.”
He laughed again. “I know her father doesn’t approve, but right now, he is happy she is alive. He will grumble about it later.”
I twisted a determined glance in his direction. “Grandfather Zook, have you ever heard of Grayson Mathews?”
He squinted at me. “Grayson Mathews? Why would you ask about that fool?”
“You know him?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but he’s been by the farm a few times. I wouldn’t mention his name to my son-in-law if I were you.” He smoothed his beard over his shirt front. “How do you know his name?”
“Hettie Glick said he offered to buy several farms in the district. He wants to build Englischer houses.”
Grandfather Zook nodded. “I’m surprised Hettie spoke to you. She doesn’t think much of the outside world.”
“Timothy and I both spoke to her.”
Grandfather Zook rooted around in the hip pocket of his trousers and pulled out a gray linen paper business card. “This is the man you mean?” He handed the card to me. “You can keep that.”
Grayson’s name and company information was embossed on the card in black lettering. “Yes, this is it.”
“He gave me that card the last time he stopped at the house. Happily, it was a time when Martha, Simon, and the children were away. He wanted me to talk my son-in-law into selling to give us all a good retirement. I’m in retirement.” He waved his hands around. “How can it be better than this?”
“When was this?”
He thought for a moment. “It was the day the company comes and picks up our milk, so it must have been last Thursday.”
“Before Becky’s accident?”
“Yes, I’m positive it was before the accident.” He watched me. “You’ve spent a lot of time with my grandson.”
My cheeks grew hot.
He grinned. “Ah!”
“He told me about Aaron’s fall.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them. My face grew even hotter. It must be the same color as my hair now.
“That’s a start,” he said.
What did that mean? “Could Deacon Sutter still be angry enough over Aaron’s accident to have something to do with the buggy?”
Grandfather Zook examined my face. His white beard reminded me of Saint Nick’s, and hi
s assessing expression made me wonder if he tried to determine if I was naughty or nice. “Deacon Sutter is a hard man, and he and I certainly don’t agree on most things. He already hurt Timothy as much as his power would allow.”
My brow wrinkled.
“Promise me you will remember that we’ve all made bad choices.”
“Are you talking about Timothy? Asking Aaron to jump on the roof was a bad choice. Is there something else?”
Grandfather Zook shook his head.
“Are you saying that leaving the Amish was a bad choice?”
Grandfather Zook adjusted his crutches on his arms. “You will have to ask him that for yourself. However, I think now he would say ‘no.’”
Across the lawn, Becky beamed at us. Grandfather Zook waved her over. “Come give your grossdaddi a hug too!” Becky hurried over and threw her arms around her grandfather. The business card felt heavy in my hand, and I stepped away so that the two could speak.
Ruth twirled Naomi, and the three-year-old squealed in delight. Her faceless doll peeked out of the pocket of her white apron. The sisters slipped on the wet grass in their bare feet and fell in a laughing heap. I helped them up. Naomi gave me a bright smile, and I could tell she would look just like Becky when she was older.
Seeing Ruth reminded me I needed to ask her a question. “Ruth, can I talk to you a minute?”
She cocked her head at me. “Okay.”
“Becky told you about her interview last Friday, the day of the accident, right?”
Ruth checked to make sure her parents were occupied. “Yes.”
“You called her on the telephone.”
She glanced around again. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Ruth, did you tell anyone about Becky’s interview?”
Ruth scrunched up her nose. She nodded and thought for moment. “I didn’t tell anyone at home because then they would know I’d been using the shed phone, and I would get in trouble.” She angled her head toward her father.
“Did you tell a friend?”
“Not a friend exactly.” She brushed wet grass from her skirt. “I told Esther Yoder.”
Plain Death Page 23