Her Fear

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “You got her?” Chad asked.

  Returning his attention back to where it needed to be, Noah answered. “Yes.”

  “All right, then. Let’s get on our way.”

  They reached the ambulance and both climbed into the back, pulling the stretcher inside. The moment he closed the door, Noah turned to Mitch, who was driving.

  “Would you see if Deputy Beck or somebody can swing by and take the family to the hospital?”

  “I’m on it,” he called back.

  Relieved that was going to be taken care of, Noah tried to focus on Verba but felt like he was still in that living room amid the thick tension.

  “You okay there, Amish?” Chad joked as Mitch sped down the highway.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why did that man call you ‘English’?”

  “You caught that?”

  “Couldn’t help it. He sounded ticked that we were in his house in the first place.” Chad shook his head in dismay. “It never fails to surprise me how people react in situations like this. I’ve seen whole families in tears, others completely silent, still others acting angry and lashing out at us.”

  As Noah worked on the handheld machine to make a tag for the woman’s wrist, he said carefully, “I guess some people don’t know how to handle situations that are out of their control.”

  “Do you think that was what was happening inside that house?”

  “I don’t know. Just because they are Amish, it doesn’t mean I understand how they think. They might just be wary of outsiders.”

  “Maybe you’re right. For what it’s worth, you handled them real well. You’re doing a good job.”

  The praise wasn’t lightly given, and meant the world to Noah. “Thank you.”

  After seeing that Verba was resting comfortably, Chad lowered his voice. “Not to be mean, but that family seemed like an odd lot.”

  “I was just thinking that.”

  “Did you notice the pretty gal in the back of the room? Her eyes were so blue they looked violet.”

  “I noticed.”

  A shiver raced through him as he remembered what else he’d noticed. That she was scared.

  But of what?

  Chilled, he rubbed his arms.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Chad asked again, his voice filled with concern.

  “I’m fine.” Feeling sheepish, he said, “I guess a ghost just walked on my path.”

  Chad grinned in appreciation. “Tell it to stay far away from me, okay? I don’t intend to lose this woman.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said as Mitch continued to speed down the highway, sirens and flashing lights encouraging everyone in their path to stop and pull out of the way.

  Even the occasional horse and buggy.

  Chapter 2

  June 29

  When the front door closed behind the emergency workers with a decided click and they had driven off, the flashing lights that had been shining into the house vanished.

  It was rather symbolic.

  Now Sadie was surrounded, again, by only dim light peeking through the sheer curtains of the two windows in the middle of the dark-paneled room. Though she was used to living in rooms with no electricity, she couldn’t help but feel that her cousins’ home was darker than most.

  Perhaps it was because of the constant state of anxiety that filled the air. It permeated every decision in the Stauffer household and led to a tension so thick that Sadie felt like she could grasp hold of it. In her more fanciful moments, Sadie imagined that each member wore their burdens like badges of honor. It was a worrisome habit, given that not one of them seemed eager to divest themselves of any weight.

  Those feelings seemed to weigh them all down, almost as if they had extra burdens to carry with them at all times.

  Though Sadie had only lived with them for three weeks, she knew by now to keep out of the way. Everyone in the household seemed to have a specific place—and her spot, for now at least, was to be in the background.

  Stephen rapped his knuckle against the door in frustration. “I canna believe they didn’t allow even one of us in that ambulance.”

  “The worker said a patrol car would come, Daed,” Esther pointed out. “I bet it will be here any minute.”

  Sadie watched Stephen and his son, Monroe, exchange glances. The two of them looked so very different. Stephen had brown hair and grayish-blue eyes while Monroe had golden-blond hair and mesmerizing hazel eyes.

  “We need to get ready, then,” Willis said. “Stephen, you and Monroe go make sure the cellar door is locked, in case someone really does show up.”

  Without a word, Monroe and his father walked outside.

  After they left, Willis turned to Sadie and his grandchild Esther. “When the police come, I want you girls to stay in the haus. Do you understand?”

  “Jah, Dawdi,” Esther said while Sadie nodded.

  He looked like he was about to say more when a sheriff’s cruiser pulled up. “We’ll be going now.”

  “I hope Mommi will be all right,” Esther said.

  “Only the Lord knows what will happen, Esther.”

  “Yes, Dawdi.”

  After Willis opened the door and called for Stephen and Monroe to meet him at the sheriff’s car, he turned back to them. “Will you women be able to get supper ready while we are gone?”

  Sadie gaped at him, having a difficult time believing that Willis was worried about supper when his own wife was near death. But Esther nodded obediently.

  “Jah, Dawdi. We’ll see to supper.”

  For the first time since his wife had collapsed on the ground, his expression softened. “Danke, child,” Willis said before walking outside to join the other men by the car.

  Sadie watched through the glass as a young man in a tan uniform shook Stephen’s hand, then gestured the three of them into the vehicle. Stephen got up front in the passenger side while Willis climbed into the back with Monroe.

  Minutes later, the car disappeared down the street.

  When they were alone in the house, Esther exhaled. “Come on, Sadie. Let’s go sit for a spell.”

  Sadie followed her into the small kitchen and watched as her cousin sat down on one of the stools that lined the back counter. She matched Monroe in looks—all blond hair and hazel eyes. But that was where their similarities ended. While Monroe exuded confidence and constant good humor, Esther was far more reflective.

  Now that Esther was facing another loss, Sadie wasn’t sure how her cousin was going to react. Was Esther about to burst into tears? Would she start pacing and fretting?

  “Can I get you anything?” Sadie asked.

  “Some water sounds good.”

  Happy to be of use, Sadie poured them two glasses. “Here you go.”

  After drinking almost half of her glass’s contents, Esther wiped her brow. “What a day, huh?”

  It had been quite a day. A terrible one, to be sure. Verba had collapsed just minutes after their noon meal. Stephen had tried to revive her for several minutes, and Monroe had run down the street to find an Englisher willing to stop and call for the ambulance.

  She and Esther had prayed while Stephen knelt beside his mother and wiped her brow.

  Willis, in contrast, stared out the window with a blank expression on his face. Sadie hadn’t been able to figure out if he was too upset to tend to his wife, was watching for Monroe to return, or was worried about something she couldn’t fathom.

  “What do you think happened?” she asked, now realizing that Esther wasn’t about to start crying. “Your grandmother seemed okay at breakfast, didn’t you think?”

  “I thought she was all right.” She took another sip of water. “But maybe she wasn’t.”

  The comment seemed too pat. “Why do you say that? Had she been complaining of aches and pains?”

  “Of course not. Mommi wouldn’t complain.”

  “I wish she would have. Then we could have been able to tell the emergency workers something of worth,�
� Sadie said, remembering how the EMT named Mitch asked for Verba’s medical history. Both Willis and Stephen had acted like he was prying. Sadie frowned. “I hope Verba hasn’t been ailing for a while but didn’t tell you all anything. Or that your grandfather knew something was wrong but wanted to keep it private.”

  Something flashed in Esther’s eyes before she shrugged. “I couldn’t begin to guess what happened to my grandmother, Sadie. Maybe we’ll never know.”

  Confused by her cousin’s tone, Sadie backpedaled. “Oh, of course. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be intrusive.”

  Esther got to her feet. “You ain’t. It’s simply that I have no idea what happened to Mommi.”

  “I hope she is already doing much better.”

  “Me, too.” Opening the ancient refrigerator, Esther spoke again, this time her voice sounding warm and familiar. “Speaking of keeping aches and pains to oneself, how are you feeling?”

  “I guess I deserved that,” Sadie said with a sheepish smile. “I’m all right. The babe seems to be finally settling down.” She’d been so very sick and queasy at the beginning of her pregnancy. Now that she’d just hit thirteen weeks, she was having more good days than bad.

  She’d also gotten adept at keeping her discomforts to herself. Of course, she’d learned to do that on account of her own family history.

  “I think we might as well start cooking. At least then it will be done while we wait for the men to return.”

  “All right. I can do that.”

  “I know you didn’t feel too good this morning. Do you feel able to help me fry chicken?”

  “Of course I can.” Sadie almost changed her mind when she was handed a freshly slaughtered chicken, a cutting board, and a knife. Just the thought of hacking the bird into pieces made her ache to take back her promise.

  But, then, all she had to do was remember what her life had been like before she moved to Kentucky.

  Back in Millersburg, she not only had to cut up the chicken, she often had to help kill it and pluck the feathers before preparing the meal.

  While the idea of cutting up a bunch of raw chicken made her already-sensitive stomach queasy, it wasn’t anything too awful. Her father calling her a liar, and being estranged from her family, was worse. Much worse.

  Resolutely, she washed her hands, slipped an apron over her expanded waistline, and picked up the knife. Nothing would get done if she didn’t get started. Steeling herself, she cut off a wing and set it to the side.

  Esther cracked two eggs, added some buttermilk to the dish, then mixed up flour and spices while Sadie continued to work on the chicken. Then Esther poured oil into a cast-iron skillet and set the gas burner on low.

  Sadie began soaking her chicken pieces in the buttermilk concoction, then washed the cutting board and knife. Esther, by this time, had started peeling potatoes. She glanced Sadie’s way and smiled. “We’re a gut team, ain’t we?”

  “Jah. Between us, we have made this supper a couple dozen times now,” Sadie agreed.

  “At least.” Glancing over at her, Esther said, “When did you start helping in the kitchen? I started when I was ten, or thereabouts.”

  Sadie paused to think about that. “I remember learning how to snap peas when I was five or six, so I’ve been helping out in the kitchen for a long time.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “You know, I never thought about whether I liked it or not. I simply did what I was supposed to do. We didn’t have much choice in the matter. What about you?”

  “I haven’t had much choice, either, now that I think about it,” Esther replied with a grin. “But that don’t bother me. I like cooking all right.” After glancing at the door, she added, “I’d rather spend my days sewing, though.”

  Sadie, in the midst now of frying the buttermilk-soaked pieces, looked around at all the dishes—and felt the sweat dripping down her back, thanks to frying a whole chicken in the middle of a hot summer day with the door closed. Sadie smiled. “Sewing is much cooler.”

  “And cleaner.”

  “Jah.” Sadie agreed. “That, too.”

  They continued to work in silence for almost another half hour. As Esther had mentioned, they had made this meal several times already—and were able to smoothly share the small workspace. It made Sadie think of her sisters—Grace, Faith, and Emma.

  They’d often tried to help her, but more often than not the girls only succeeded in creating more work for her—additional to her efforts to shield them from the worst of their father’s abuse.

  But they, in turn, gave her so much love. When they were all younger, her little sisters often reminded Sadie of a litter of kittens. Whenever their parents weren’t around, the girls would joke and tease each other. Then, come nightfall, at least one of them would knock on her door and ask to sleep by her side.

  She knew she’d given them a sense of security, just as they’d made her life so much happier. She missed them.

  She wondered if she was ever going to see them again. During moments like this, she hoped so. At night, though, when she felt so alone and uncomfortable on her cot in the kitchen, she was sure that she would never see them again.

  “Do you ever want to do something else but work at home?” Esther asked.

  Sadie put down the slotted spoon she’d been using to flip the chicken over in the hot grease. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Come on. Lots of Amish girls around here work in shops or in greenhouses. I have to imagine it’s the same up in Ohio.”

  “It is. Many Amish girls work outside the home up in Holmes County. I’ve seen them work in restaurants and bakeries.” She smiled. “They get paid to cook and clean.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. Haven’t you ever wanted to do a job like that?”

  “My family is Swartzentruber Amish, Esther. Women aren’t permitted to work outside the home.”

  “Their rules are so strict. Was abiding by them so hard?”

  “Oh, sometimes,” she lied. Actually, she had wanted to get out of her house more than anything. Yearned for a change in a schedule that never seemed to deviate—and was desperate to have even a little bit of money of her own, too.

  She’d tried to push all those dreams away. Then Harlan started courting her. She’d told herself that it wasn’t that she disliked her church’s rules, it was that she was so unhappy in her father’s strict household.

  Now that she’d gained some distance, she thought that was probably the case. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to follow the rules—get married, have children, take care of her family—she wanted to be respected, too. As she was falling in love with Harlan, she realized that she was confronted with the terms of her life and her future.

  But then? Well, the Lord had other plans.

  She suddenly got everything she’d ever wanted . . . but at a terrible price. Now she was out of her house. Her routine had been shaken up, and she knew she needed to find a way to support herself . . . because in a few months she was going to have someone else to care for.

  Esther stopped peeling and had begun slicing the potatoes. She stared at her. “Sadie, you really never thought about doing anything else, have you?”

  Feeling awkward, Sadie took a breath. “To be honest, I used to want to make crafts or maybe sew dresses or clothing for other people, but I eventually discarded that idea.”

  “Can you sew that well?”

  “Jah.” She felt herself flush. “I know I shouldn’t brag . . .”

  “You aren’t bragging, Sadie,” Esther said with a sweet smile. “You’re celebrating your worth.”

  Hating that she felt so tentative, she said, “Do you really think that way?”

  “I do. I mean, the Lord made us all special, don’t you think?” When Sadie nodded, Esther looked at her curiously. “I haven’t seen you sew since you’ve been here. If you enjoy it, you are welcome to use my mother’s old sewing machine.”

  “Would your father mind?”

  “Not at
all! He especially wouldn’t mind if you offered to make him a new shirt,” she said with a wink.

  “Well, then, maybe I will do that.” Sadie took another breath as reality returned. “As soon as your grandmother gets better.”

  Esther looked pensive as she went back to her potatoes. “Jah. As soon as she gets better.”

  Thinking that Esther needed time alone with her thoughts, Sadie started washing dishes. The hot, soapy water felt soothing on her hands. The ease of the chore, one she’d done more times than she could count, calmed her insides, too. She was feeling at ease here, working side by side with Esther.

  So different than how she’d mostly felt at home.

  At last Esther broke the silence. “Hey, Sadie?”

  “Jah?”

  “Things were difficult at your house, weren’t they? I mean, even before you found out you were pregnant.”

  Sadie pressed her hands deeper in the water, letting the hot water slide up past her wrists. Finally she spoke. “My father was strict. Very strict. We had roles in our haus that he demanded we adhere to.”

  “Ah.”

  “My father would have never allowed any of us to get a job outside of the house. That is why I stopped sewing.” There. That was the truth. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

  “You would have gotten in a lot of trouble, huh?”

  “Jah,” she said lightly. She would have been punished without a doubt. “I guess I was too afraid to do anything I wasn’t supposed to.”

  “When you say things like that, I don’t know whether I’m more shocked about you getting pregnant . . . or that you didn’t do it earlier.”

  “Esther!”

  “I’m sorry. But, Sadie, your life there sounds so sad. I would’ve done whatever I could to leave.”

  There was something about the way Esther was talking that made her uneasy. She almost felt like her cousin was hinting about something more than just Sadie’s strict upbringing. She pulled her hands out of the water and dried them. “I didn’t do anything on purpose. I trusted Harlan. I never expected he would lie about what we had done.”

  “I canna believe your parents believed him instead of you.”