Disappearances

by Linda Byler

  “You really like Neil, don’t you?”

  Anna nodded, her expression containing so much pain, it was like a contortion of her features, a clouding over.

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “He’s cute.”

  “He definitely is that,” Sadie agreed.

  Chapter 8

  “HE’S WILD, BUT … I think he’ll change. Once we start dating, he’ll … change. He just says … I think if I agree to go places with him in his car, he’ll ask me for a date, because that will show him that I love him, right?”

  Oh, boy. Literally walking on eggshells now. How to correct her without tearing down the frail stepping-stone they had placed so inefficiently a few minutes before?

  “Well…,” Sadie breathed. She was at a loss for the correct words now.

  “I think he loves me,” Anna blurted out, her voice abrasive in its desperation.

  Paris whooshed air through her nostrils, lowering her head. Duke responded with a snort of his own. They came to a knoll, a sort of elevation, between two lines of trees. The rolling Montana landscape unfolded before them, dressed in the dull greens and browns of the time between winter and spring. Sadie knew a few weeks of sunshine would make all the difference, coloring the earth in those wonderful shades of green, like an artist who decides his palette is depressing sets about correcting the dullness with broad, bold, tumultuous strokes.

  “Look, Anna!” Sadie said, pointing.

  “What?”

  “How beautiful it is!”

  “Oh, yeah. But, Sadie, if I refuse to go with him, he’ll tell me off. Our friendship would be over before it even got started.”

  Her words ended on a wail of wretchedness, a sound so deep and primal, Sadie knew she had to respond the only way she knew, telling her the hard truth, letting her deal with it.

  “It’s the best thing that could happen.”

  The words were blunt, clear, flung into the cold, Montana air. Anna’s head came up, her eyebrows lowered, her face twisted into a mask of anger.

  “You sound just like Mam. See? You’re all against me! Every last one of you. Even that goody two-shoes Reuben! I hate you!”

  With that, she jerked on Paris’s rein, surprising the horse. Sadie saw the confusion in her eyes, her bearing before Anna dug in her heels, leaning forward, goading Paris with the power of her terrible rebellion. Paris ran then. At a speed much too fast for an inexperienced rider.

  Wheeling Duke, Sadie screamed, “Stop! Paris, whoa! Stop! Anna!”

  Paris was confused, frightened as she had been that day hitched to the spring wagon with Daniel beside her. The only instinct she knew was to get home as fast as she could. But with Anna sliding and flopping around on the saddle, they’d never make it.

  Leaning forward, Sadie urged Duke, who was just waiting for the order to run. His feet gathered beneath him, his haunches lowered, as power surged through his magnificent legs. His neck stretched out, his head moved up and down, for a moment Sadie thrilled to his power and speed in spite of the dread that wrapped itself around her senses, a claustrophobic tentacle squeezing the breath from her body.

  Oh, dear God! Keep Anna on her horse! she begged. That turn around the alders! At this rate, they’d never make it.

  “Whoa, Paris!” Sadie screamed again, screamed over and over till her voice was hoarse and inconsistent.

  Still they pushed on. Then it was over so fast. It only takes a second for a very thin person like Anna to be flung from a fast-moving horse’s back. She looked like a limp rag doll with barely any stuffing inside the fabric of her arms and legs. She flew through the air and hit the muddy ground, folding in on herself, the arms, legs, the black of her coat, the brilliance of the dress. A sickening, mud-filled clunk. A little pile of muddy clothes.

  Was Sadie screaming? Or was it Anna? She had to haul back on the reins with every ounce of strength. Duke wanted to follow Paris, who had already disappeared around the corner of the alders, heading home, with or without her rider.

  Sadie didn’t remember dismounting. She just knew her knees were shaking so badly she had to concentrate on every step to reach her sister, whose face was turned away. She was lying on her side, her legs flung out, her arms drawn in. How badly was she injured?

  A low moan was the first thing she heard. She was alive. That was all that mattered. Praise God! Another moan.

  “Anna!”

  There was no coherent answer, only another moan. Never move an injured person. Sadie called Anna’s name over and over, moaning sounds the only response. Wildly, Sadie looked about her, then hurled herself into the saddle, urging Duke without meaning it, an unnecessary thing done out of habit.

  When they slid into the barnyard, Mark came racing down the path from the house, waving his arms.

  “Sadie! What is wrong with you? Riding like that? Duke? Why Duke?” he yelled, his agitation an engine of words tumbling over each other.

  “It’s Anna! Is Paris here? Did you see her run home?”

  As she spoke, she dismounted, running through the forebay opening, then slumped visibly, relieved to see Paris outlined against the water partitions.

  “Oh, Mark! She’s here!”

  “What happened?”

  Mark shook his head in disbelief as she quickly related her story. Then he ordered her back on Duke, quickly leaping up behind her. As long as she lived, she would never cease to be amazed at Mark’s ability to leap onto the back of a horse, cat-like, springing up as if it required no effort on his part. She remembered the first time she had seen him springing, no, bouncing off the truck that day on the snowy road.

  Duke took off, Mark’s weight holding him back, his gait a fraction slower. They found Anna, still moaning, her breath coming in painful jerks. Mark bent over her, calling her name.

  “Anna! Anna!”

  She began crying then. Whispering how much it hurt. She couldn’t breathe. It hurt. Was she going to die? In the end, Sadie stayed with her while Mark rode to the phone. Anna was so cold. Why did it hurt so badly?

  “I think you have a few broken ribs, Anna. Or worse.”

  “It hu…urts.” She could only gasp in broken whispers.

  Birds twittered their good-evening calls. The cold settled like a harsh blanket as the sun slid behind the mountain, a warm kindness that bade them farewell. Why did it take them so long? Then she heard it. The wail of an ambulance. Shivers chased themselves up her back as quick tears sprang to her eyes. Help was on the way.

  With Mark’s direction, the ambulance drove as far as they were able to across the muddy pasture, driving slowly, a red and yellow beacon of hope as Anna continued gasping for breath, crying out in pain. Two men carried a stretcher. Her shrieks of agony began when they poked and prodded, then carefully slid the stretcher beneath her battered body.

  Sadie let the telephone ring and ring and ring, repeatedly pressing the redial button. Reality suddenly hit. How much would her poor Mam and Dat be able to take? Now Anna. And Sadie just home from her own ordeal. God chasteneth whom he loveth. Yes, this was true. But, like children, there was no chastening if they behaved themselves. Must be God saw plenty wrong with them, or he wouldn’t try to fix them the way he did.

  Please answer! If they didn’t, she’d have to send a driver to tell them to come to the hospital. Then, sure enough, Reuben.

  “Hello?”

  “Reuben? Oh, I’m so glad you answered.”

  “I just got home from work.”

  That gruff voice! Reuben was growing into a young adult right before everyone’s unseeing eyes.

  “Listen. Anna was thrown from Paris. She was taken to the hospital. Get yourselves over there as fast as you can.”

  “Is she…is she, okay?”

  “Well, yes. As okay as she can be. See you, Reuben.”

  Anna had three broken ribs, her right lung was punctured, she was battered and bruised, but there were no life-threatening injuries other than her emaciated state. That awful thinness from years of
depriving herself of good, wholesome food.

  Dat and Mam, of course, were visibly distressed, but so glad to find their daughter alive and responding to the doctor’s care. It was an attribute to their Amish upbringing, this receiving of bad news with grace and dignity borne with calm acceptance. Stoic was the best description, Anna thought, as she watched Mam clasp Anna’s forearm, her eyes wet with unshed tears, her face a harbor of love, a safe, sound place for her battered Anna.

  “Siss kenn fa-shtandt.” Mam’s usual exclamation.

  They asked many questions. Nodded their heads. Leah and Rebekah came in, their eyes wide with questions. Reuben had his say, then, his love for Anna fueling the jet stream of his words.

  “Sadie, I think it’s time you took a lesson from this. You are always in some sort of trouble with this crazy horse business with Paris. It’s okay, but one of these days, someone’s going to get killed. You had to have your own special horse, and look at all the troubles she brought us. It’s about time you retire from.… Well, just slow down and take it easy for once.”

  After that, he became self-conscious, kicking the toe of his sneaker against the footboard of Anna’s bed until Dat made him stop.

  Mam nodded. “My mother’s favorite saying was, ‘What most we long and sigh for, might only bring us sorrow.’”

  “But, Mam!” Sadie burst out.

  Mark put his arm protectively around her shoulders, his presence letting her know he was on her side, as she told her mother Paris had brought so much more than sorrow. Mam remained adamant, Dat backing her. Reuben glared at Mam. Leah and Rebekah’s faces were inscrutable.

  “But…but…” she floundered.

  “You need to be more careful, Sadie. Horses can be a source of danger, as you should be aware of by now, surely,” Dat said firmly. “It’s a wonder you’re not dead.”

  Reuben’s words were blunt, but sort of like one of those squishy things you throw against a wall and they slowly slide off, although they leave a sticky residue. Sadie considered them, but only a small part. Paris was a part of her life, like Mark, her beloved house beneath the trees, the ranch, Dorothy. She couldn’t imagine life without any of them.

  Anna moved home and was kept like a queen in a hospital bed as she healed. The doctors diagnosed her anorexia and prescribed medication. The family set up an appointment for counseling.

  Sadie visited often. Mam firmly took matters into her own hands, deciding Sadie was part of Anna’s problem, and asserted herself. Late one Saturday morning she made a pot of coffee, then opened the oven door to reveal a large pan of homemade sweet rolls, the spirals of brown sugar and cinnamon tantalizingly curled among the puffs of sweet dough baked to a golden brown. She poured a soft caramel frosting over the warm rolls before serving them on pretty plates, accompanied by a breakfast pizza, which consisted of potatoes, eggs, cheese, and sausage.

  Sadie sighed happily. “Dear Mam. I can’t imagine being happier than I am at this moment. Your food!”

  That voice of appreciation made it harder for Mam, but she remained strong, a matriarch of wisdom, knowing her oldest daughter needed to be lovingly rearranged, put in place. The conversation drifted to a quiet lull, allowing Mam to open the subject of Anna’s disease, the dreaded anorexia.

  “You know, Sadie, you are the oldest daughter, and you do have a way with Anna. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done so far. She needs building up now. I think…”

  Here Mam hesitated, searched Rebekah’s face, then Leah’s, as if seeking approval.

  “You can’t help being you, Sadie. You are beautiful, you have a gift of riding, a way with horses, and now you have Mark, your kind and handsome husband. But to view yourself through Anna’s eyes … ”

  Here Mam stopped again, then reached out to put a hand on Sadie’s arm.

  “Believe me when I say you are blessed, and being you is not what makes Anna what she is. But I don’t think you realize the depth of Anna’s self-loathing. She has always looked to you as a sort of idol. An opp-Gott almost. To attain your height was the despair of her life. And Sadie, this is not your fault. But … we need to understand how frail she is. She’s like the Bible verse where the house is built on sand, not the rock of Jesus.”

  Sadie gasped.

  “You mean … you actually mean Anna doesn’t have Jesus in her heart?”

  “Does she?”

  Mam searched Sadie’s eyes, and Sadie’s lowered first.

  “She needs the Lord. But we can’t do that for her. She needs to let him into her heart, so we’ll just be here for her. And Sadie … just back off a little. Don’t lecture, or … how can I say this in the right way?”

  At first Sadie reeled from Mam’s judgment of her. Slowly, though, as time went on, the truth became apparent. She was always the fixer in the family, the one who always got it right, the queen, the oldest. Yes, Mam was right. The experience brought a new humility over the coming weeks.

  She visited Anna, telling her of Mark’s dark moods, her own insecurities, the socks she ruined by soaking them in pure Clorox, the sausage gravy she burnt to a crisp at the ranch. And all the time Anna was recovering, with all the friends she received, the bouquets of flowers, the cards, the gifts, not once did Neil Hershberger as much as try and contact her in any way. There were no messages on the telephone’s voice mail, no cards, no flowers. She searched feverishly through each envelope, but each day there was nothing.

  One evening, when the light of a spring day lingered into that softness that is so beautiful you can hardly stand it, Sadie sat on her parents’ porch swing, rocking gently with Reuben beside her. Anna lowered herself painfully into the wooden porch rocker by their side.

  “Ouch. Everything hurts!” she exploded impatiently.

  Sadie laughed. “It will for awhile yet, my dear.”

  Dat and Mark had gone to the end-of-the-year school meeting, so Sadie stayed with Mam and the girls, an event that never failed to bring her joy.

  When the distant, shrill ring of the phone began, Reuben leaped off the swing and raced to the shanty. It was a dash of desperation to catch the caller before the voice mail came on and before they left their phone shanty, because no matter how many times you called back, they were gone and you never found out what they wanted. It was one of those minor annoyances of Amish life, like searching for a lighter that was always to be kept in a small basket at the base of the propane lamp, yet someone always took off with it. Some folks tied a lighter to the propane lamp. But it looked so ridiculous, that brightly colored plastic lighter hanging in midair by the black carpet string, that Sadie never bothered. She just kept a large box of long matches in a drawer that no one, not even Mark, knew about. It worked.

  Reuben raced back, threw himself on the swing and announced there was a group of Amish friends coming with pizza.

  “Who?” Anna asked, her face leaking its color like a deflating balloon.

  She was visibly afraid. Sadie could see her chest heaving, her heart beating thick and loud. It was Neil, she knew. Would he be with them? It was too painful, this complete obsession.

  Sadie helped her shower and comb her hair, laughing and joking, trying to keep the atmosphere lively, upbeat. She remembered Mam’s words, remembered to let Anna choose her own dress, nodding approval. She was so pretty. But in her own eyes, so ugly. A pitiable caricature of her true self.

  Neil Hershberger, of course, was not among them. Lydia, Suzanna, Ruth Ann, and Esther. Her best friends, bearing a stack of steaming pizzas from the best pizzeria in town. Followed by Melvin, Michael, Jerry, her cousin Danny, and Merv Bontrager.

  Merv Bontrager! Oh, my goodness. He was at least three years older than Anna. It was as if he stepped out of the surrounding shadows and into the illuminating light of Sadie’s knowledge. Why not? Goose bumps roused the fine hairs on her arms as she thrilled to this new prospect. Why not? He was perfect for Anna. He had enough confidence to keep them both afloat, that was sure. She would not say a word to anyone.

/>   She watched Merv from the background, watched him like a hawk. He ate lots of pizza, laughed and talked, but his eyes rarely left Anna. When she spoke to him, it was like a queen extending her royal scepter, he was so honored. But—how to get Neil out of her head?

  The group of youth around the table was quite boisterous, enjoying themselves, the bantering, the youthful zest for life. They were at an age Sadie had almost forgotten. It seemed so long ago that she was one of them. But, oh, the sweetness of this! She had forgotten the simplicity, the innocence.

  When the school meeting was over and Mark returned, Sadie did not want to leave, glad to see Mark sit down and help himself to a large slice of cold pizza, turning his attention to Merv, who responded to Mark’s questions politely. Yes, he was busy. Yeah, it was a bit hard to start his own roofing business, but that was only in the beginning. Yeah, there was a real need for roofers. Tear-offs, for sure.

  His brown hair was cut neatly, his blue eyes alive with pleasure when Anna spoke to him. His white short-sleeved shirt was open at the collar. He was relaxed, at ease, able to maneuver his way in a conversation so well. Oh, the possibilities!

  Anna said she was thirsty, so Merv was instantly on his feet, getting ice from the freezer, filling a tall glass with cold water, then bringing it to her, totally devoid of self-consciousness. Handing the glass to Anna, their hands touched, his eyes a caress on hers. Was that a blush spreading across her too-pale cheek? Their eyes held, stayed.

  Sadie was fairly bouncing up and down on the buggy seat the whole way home, grabbing Mark’s arm, squeezing it with both hands to get her point across. He laughed easily, held her close, and told her to calm down.

  Mark said the school meeting dragged on longer than necessary in his opinion, shaking his head at the audacity of Fred Troyer. They needed another schoolhouse built, and David Detweiler offered a piece of ground, a nice, central location, but Fred had to throw a monkey wrench into the works and put in his two cents, saying the school should be built a few miles to the north. His grandchildren wouldn’t have to pay transportation then; that was the only reason, everyone knew.