Sarah put down the pan she’d been drying and hurried over to Linda. “Are you sure?” Liquid dripped off Linda’s shoe and onto the floor.
“Ya, I’m sure. I’m not prone to wetting myself on kitchen stools. What am I going to do? I’m soaked and everyone will know what’s happening. Oh, mercy, even that know-it-all, Sharon Lapp.”
Sarah thought for a moment, her legs trembling. “I’ll go get Kurt and Mose. One of them can bring the truck around, and the other can carry you out the kitchen’s back door. No one will see you. I’ll make sure.”
“Hurry. I feel like a fool sitting here in a puddle.”
Sarah found Mose first, the last of his celery soup forgotten as soon as she whispered the frantic situation in his ear. He motioned for Kurt to come over and within seconds both men were at a full run, Mose headed out the front of the church to pull the truck around back. Kurt fumbled his way to the kitchen, knocking over a chair as he hurried. Minutes later, Linda waved a frantic goodbye to Sarah as Mose peeled out of the church parking lot and burned rubber down the farm road.
Thoughts of her own birth raced through her mind. She’d been warned the pain could be overwhelming. Plus, there were the added responsibilities to consider. Was she ready to be the mother of a tiny bobbel? Joseph’s bobbel. What if the kinder resented it?
Would she be able to cope with three children and still be a good wife to Mose?
Chapter Eighteen
The soft mallet tapped the last spindle into place, and then Mose twisted the chair to an upright position. The back fit snugly into the seat, all four legs flared in perfect alignment. He stood back and looked at the completed project, his hands testing for weak joints. His trained eye searched for flaws, anything that might require a minor adjustment, and saw none.
Otto Fischer breezed into the back workroom, his pants and shirt covered in mud splatter. “Wie gehts, Mose?”
“Gut. I can see you’ve been working hard.” Mose smiled at his father. “Will you ever retire?” He put away tools and then downed a bottle of water as he listened to his father’s ramblings.
“Not while there’s still breath in my body. I’d rather slop pigs and dig trenches all day than spend all my time with Theda when those gossiping women are in my haus. They pretend to make quilts every week, but really they gather to talk.” He used his hand to imitate a duck quacking. “You should see them leaning over that big quilt frame, their mouths working as hard as their thimbles.” Otto grabbed an old wooden chair and sat, his legs sprawled out in front of him.
“Mamm would keep you busy doing little jobs around the haus. You’d never have time to be bored.” Mose sat in the new chair, wiggling in the seat, still testing. “You get her off to her sister’s in time?”
“Ya. But she took too many suitcases, as usual, and the train was late.”
“Maybe she plans to be gone a while.”
“Ach, she says three, but I can count on four or five days of peace.” Otto smirked, his lip curling into a happy arch. “You know how your mother is. Once she gets to Ohio and sees her sister, she’ll stick like glue for a while.”
“Come eat with us if you find yourself hungry. Sarah’s a gut cook.”
“That she is. Still, I might go to Lapp’s every night. I can eat all the things your mamm won’t let me have. They make good apple strudel.” He grinned like a naughty child.
The big room darkened. Mose flipped on the overhead light and jerked back the curtain. Gray clouds billowed overhead. A sudden gust of wind blew a trash can lid across the parking lot. The plastic orb slammed into the fence. “Looks like a storm’s brewing. You heard a weather forecast today?”
Otto came and stood next to Mose. “Nee, but it got nasty out there fast. Maybe there’s something blowing in we don’t know about.”
Fat splats of rain hit the window. Mose dropped the curtain and turned on a small, dusty radio on the shelf next to him, his finger twisting the knob until he found the weather station.
Both men listened silently. The voice reported a mild tropical depression just off the west coast of Florida. Heavy rain and moderate winds were headed inland, moving toward the Tampa Bay area. Mose breathed a sigh of relief when the man reported the weather bureau didn’t expect the depression to grow into a hurricane this late in the season. He flipped off the radio and grabbed his cup. “You want some stale coffee?”
“Nee. I should get back to the house and make sure all the windows are shut. I just came by to pick up that footrest you made your mamm.”
“Sure. It’s up front.”
The two men walked to the front of the store. “Guder mariye, Austin. How are you?” Otto greeted the young salesman now that he wasn’t busy with a customer.
“Gut, Mr. Fischer. It’s been busy, but the rain’s run off all our customers.”
Otto looked out at the sheets of rain blowing and pulled his hat down around his ears. “This one’s going to be a soaker. I think I’ll pick up that footrest another time, Mose. Just don’t sell it out from under me. Oh, ya. I almost forgot. Linda had a seven-pound baby girl last night.”
Mose breathed a sigh of relief and grinned. “All went well?”
“Ya, no bumps in the road.”
“Kurt has to be thrilled.” Mose said.
“He is, but he wanted a boy, but don’t tell Sarah that bit of information. You know how women are. She’ll tell Linda and it could get ugly at Kurt’s house.” Otto smiled playfully and gave his son a generous smack on the back, then waved to Austin as he headed out the door. “Keep dry,” he called over his shoulder and faced the onslaught.
His bike was parked next to the door. Otto kept to the sidewalk. His clothes were soaked to his skin before he rode away.
“Mei bruder puts on roofs. I know he got sent home today,” Austin murmured, watching Otto struggle to peddle down the wet street.
“Ach, you might as well go, too. I won’t dock your pay. No one’s coming out in this weather. I’ll watch for stragglers for a while. You go before you can’t ride your bike home.”
* * *
Books and toys were strewn all over the playroom. With both girls napping, Sarah dropped to the carpeted floor and began to clear up while she could. Dolls went into the tiny cot Mose had made before she had become his wife. Greta must have been so pleased when he’d walked it through the door. Kinder’s books were stacked on the low bookshelf, something else he’d built early on. All around her were reminders of Mose and Greta’s family. Sarah’s family now. She wished she’d met the woman. Everyone had only good things to say about her.
The back door slammed shut and Sarah shuddered. The sudden noise scared her. She hated storms. She had Adolph to blame for that. She remembered the day he’d put her outside for not doing a chore while one had raged overhead. Only a child, she had begged to come in, but her cries had fallen on deaf ears. She’d hidden in the chicken coop, holding her favorite hen to her breast as she’d sobbed and lightning had flashed overhead. She’d screamed every time thunder crashed around her. Pushing the memories away, the tear trailing down her cheek, she grabbed the last toy and put the fat teddy bear on Beatrice’s rocker.
Sarah closed the window over the kitchen sink and wiped down the kitchen counters, even though she’d already cleaned them an hour ago. She needed something to do.
The doorbell rang and her hand stilled. It rang again. Who is out in a downpour like this? A peek out the front window showed a man in a police officer’s uniform wiping rain off his glasses. He stood with another man, this one in a suit and plastic raincoat. He leaned a wet umbrella against the doorframe and waited. Both men looked very official.
Leaving the security latch on, Sarah opened the door a crack. “Ya?”
The police officer leaned in to be heard over the heavy rain, his face inches from the door. “Are you Sarah Nolt Fischer?”
She began to tremble. Her legs threatened to collapse from under her. “Ya, that’s me. Can I help you?” She opened the door a bit mo
re and looked at the badge the man thrust at her. “I’m Officer Luis Cantu from the city of Sarasota. This is Frank Parsons, our liaison officer.” Rain dripped off his nose as his head nodded at Sarah through the cracked door. “Can we come in?”
Sarah pulled on her prayer kapp ribbon. “Ya, come in out of the rain.” She unlocked the door and stepped back.
Both men glanced around as they stepped in and wiped their wet feet on the door mat. “I need to talk to you about your late husband, Joseph Nolt. Can we sit down?”
“This way.” Sarah showed them to the great room and motioned toward the couch. She sat in a matching chair across the room, and placed her trembling hands in her lap.
The man in the dark navy suit pulled off his raincoat and sat on the edge of the couch. He took a small black notebook out of his breast pocket and flipped through several pages.
Sarah’s heart beat so loudly she couldn’t hear the rain anymore. She forced her mind to focus, pushing every thought aside until he spoke.
“Are you aware the death of your husband was not an accident?”
Sarah forced herself to breath in. “Nee. They told me he died of...the smoke.” She held back a sob with her hand.
“Mrs. Fischer, is there anyone I can call for you? Your new husband, a friend?”
Her fingers nervously pulled at the ribbon on her kapp. “Why? Am I in trouble?” A cramp began in the lower part of her back and traveled to her stomach, tearing at her insides. Linda told her to think of the pain as prelabor, her bones moving over to prepare for the baby’s birth. The pain was normal. Nothing to worry about.
“No, but since you’re pregnant, I thought you might like someone with you. This conversation could be upsetting.” His brown eyes looked her up and down, assessing.
Sarah glanced at the clock on the wall. “Mose will be here soon. He usually eats lunch at home.”
The man sat back. “Good. We can wait for him.”
“Nee, tell me what you have to say. This is my business. I was married to Joseph. I have a right to know everything about his death.”
He glanced back at his notebook and gave the police officer a quick glance. “Okay.” The man cleared his throat. “Your husband did die from smoke inhalation, but he also had blunt force trauma to his head.”
“No one told me.” Sarah shuddered. “Is this why you came? To tell me this?”
“Not just that. I just thought you’d want to know all the details. That’s why I wanted your new husband with you.”
Her hand pressed against the pain in her back. “Go on. Tell me the rest.”
“The reports from the Lancaster County sheriff’s office shows a Benjamin Hochstetler Sr. confessed to the killing of your husband several days ago. I believe you knew the man. Am I right?”
“Ya. He was our neighbor, but what do you mean he confessed to killing Joseph? I thought...” Sarah looked away, ashamed to look him in the eyes. Was it true? Had Benjamin Hochstetler killed Joseph?
“Some new facts have surfaced and the community’s bishop, Ralf Miller, asked that we contact you now that we’ve put all the pieces of the puzzle together. He said you’d be interested in what we’ve learned.”
Sarah’s mind reeled. Her throat seemed to constrict as she asked, “What is this additional news? I want to know everything.”
“Hochstetler was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. During questioning he began to talk about his children, how much he hated Joseph Nolt for interfering in his personal business.” The police officer flipped the page he’d been referring to and continued. “We put his ramblings down to the drink and he bailed himself out the next morning, still rambling about the loss of his two sons, Lukas and Benjamin Jr.” He looked up. “You knew the boys?”
Sarah sighed. “I knew them. They are gut boys.” Wind-driven rain lashed the windows. Lightning struck somewhere close and thunder rumbled, shaking the house and Sarah. Overhead lights flickered. She longed for a glass of water but didn’t think her legs would hold her if she tried to walk to the kitchen.
“When the forensics team got through with the barn, they had noted there was no sign of your cow, Mrs. Fischer. You did say a cow had been in the barn the night your husband died?”
“Ya. I thought Lovey died in the fire, too. Are you saying you’ve found her after all these months?” Stop asking questions. Shut up. Listen.
“They did. She was grazing in a nearby field owned by Hochstetler.”
“I see.” A terrible trembling began to shake her entire body. She fought for control.
Another page turned. The man cleared his voice. “Two days ago the body of Benjamin Hochstetler was found hanging by a rope. He’d killed himself some time during the night. He’d mailed a letter to his lawyer confessing to killing your husband in a struggle. He said he’d come to steal the cow and your husband had caught him. He wrote that during the struggle, he pushed Joseph Nolt, and his head hit a concrete block. Sure that he was dead, Hochstetler set a fire in the barn, hoping to hide any evidence that might connect him to the crime. He ran back to his farm, hid the cow in the barn and went to bed, burning the clothes he’d worn the next day.”
“But I heard Joseph’s cry for help. I tried to get him out, but the fire...my hands, they were burned. After a moment he stopped screaming and I must have fainted. Someone called the fire department and they found me lying in the dirt just outside the barn. They discovered Joseph’s remains later that morning. How can Benjamin Hochstetler’s story be true if Joseph called out to me?” Sarah searched the man’s eyes for clarity.
“We believe your husband didn’t die from the fall. He must have been knocked out and woke, unable to make his way out of the barn. The fire was too hot from the accelerant used and spread fast. It stopped him like it stopped you.”
Sarah nodded, tears streaming down her face. “If only... Did he suffer, you think?”
“No, the smoke probably got him before the fire did. I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Fischer. You have my condolences. I hope knowing the truth will help you put away this nightmare so you can go on with your new life.”
Sarah needed to have time to think about what she’d just learned. She stood to her feet and then fell back against the chair, the sound of rain and her name being called swirled in the black fog enveloping her.
Chapter Nineteen
Mose unfolded his napkin, wiped food off Mercy’s mouth and sat her on the quilt next to Beatrice. “You share those toys. If I see you taking anything from your little sister’s hands, it’s early to bed for you.”
“Sarah told me I’m a big sister now. I have to be good.”
“Yes, you do. Now play with your doll and I’ll read you a book in a moment.” He looked over at the couch, his gaze on Sarah. She leafed through a magazine on child rearing. She seemed okay now, looked normal enough. No pale skin, or grimace. Nothing to indicate something was physically wrong. So why am I still so worried?
Coming home and finding an ambulance in his drive had shaken him. He had thought one of the kinder had been hurt, but it was Sarah the two medics were leaning over when he rushed in the door. They explained she’d passed out for a few seconds but checked out fine. Nothing to warrant a trip to the hospital.
She’d been alert when he’d asked her how she felt. While the medic took her blood pressure again she’d reassured him everything was fine. “I heard about the Hochstetler man killing Joseph and later himself. I think I hyperventilated. That’s all. Nothing more to worry about.”
Now he watched her and prayed. “Can I get you anything? Maybe a cold drink?”
“Nee, I’m good. You sure you don’t want me to clear the dinner table, Mose? I’m perfectly fine. Really. You’re treating me like I’m sick, and I’m not.”
“You sit there and relax. I’m good at clearing up, and Beatrice can help me throw away the paper plates, right?”
“But I’m playing.”
“It’s bath and bed for you. That mouth of yours is getting you
into a lot of trouble lately.” Mose scowled at his oldest child, his temper already fired up by the policeman he’d almost thrown out of the house. He wiped down the table and counters. “Those police officers should have made sure you had someone with you before they broke the news about Joseph and what happened to Hochstetler. They could see you’re pregnant. No wonder you fainted at their feet.”
“You’re cleaning the color off that countertop.”
A grin tipped his lips and he took a final slow swipe. “I’m in a hurry to get the kids to bed. Mercy’s tired.” On cue, Mercy yawned, her mouth opening wide. He grinned. “See, I told you.”
“I can bathe both of them while you finish.”
“You’re eight months pregnant, Sarah, and stressed out. You’ve had a shock, need to rest.” He loved her spirited personality, but sometimes he wished she was less argumentative...like Greta?
Something hit the house with a thump. He turned on the back porch light and groaned. The deck was soaked, the wooden lounge chair he’d made for Sarah blown up against the house. Sarah’s newly seeded flower pots were full of rain and overflowing in muddy streams. “Noah, where’s that Ark? Looks like we might need it tonight.” Mose turned off the outside light and turned to an empty room. Sarah and the girls were nowhere to be seen. Stubborn woman. He headed down the hallway.
* * *
Warm water gushed into the tub. Sarah tipped in a capful of pink liquid soap and swished her hand back and forth, enjoying the feel of frothy bubbles creeping up her arm. The heady fragrance of strawberries rose with the steam.
Two fluffy towels sat on a stool next to her, along with a soft plastic frog with bulging eyes. Water in her face scared Mercy, and the frog was a great distraction when it came time to rinse the girl’s hair.
“Can I sit up front this time?” Beatrice stripped down, her clothes thrown in an untidy pile on the floor instead of in the laundry basket. Sarah gave her nod and the five-year-old jumped in, splashing water on the tile floor with her tidal wave. Soaked, Mercy screamed and wiggled out of Sarah’s arms. She slipped on the wet floor and almost joined her older sister in the foamy water with her dress and diaper still on.
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