The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  Thomas rocked in his chair. “I waited for you to come back. Why didn’t you?”

  Bo tried to come home after the accident. Not that Thomas would have known. A year after his accident, his father met Bo at the door, sneered at the jeans and polo shirt he had on, and declared he didn’t have a son.

  “I waited for you, Boaz,” his brother repeated.

  Bo bowed his head remorsefully. Without Bo around, Thomas would have been the sole recipient of his father’s wrath. Obviously, over the years something had happened to Thomas. Maybe he was kicked in the head by a horse, or perhaps his father had beaten him silly. The day Bo left home, his father was out of sorts. Thomas had spilled the milking can, and the morning supply became a bountiful feast for the barn cats. Bo took the brunt of the mishap, claiming he’d spilled the canister. That day he listened to the sound of the leather strap whirl through the air and felt the barbed sting the last time. After three lashes, one of which was misaimed and clipped his ear, Bo caught hold of the strap and raised it against his father. An old dirty rug didn’t get beaten as hard as he did as a kid.

  “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

  “That’s okay.” Thomas smiled. “You’re home nau.”

  Nathan toddled over to Bo, crawled up in his lap, and yawned. Perfect timing. “It’s getting late.” Bo stood. “Danki for supper.”

  His father merely nodded, not bothering to stand.

  Thomas bounded to his feet. “I’m glad I found you.”

  “Me too. It was gut to see you again, Thomas. You take care.”

  “Jah, I take care of the fire.”

  Bo smiled at his brother. Despite the circumstances, Thomas appeared happy. “That’s an important job.”

  He headed into the kitchen to see if Mattie was ready to leave. The women were sitting at the table talking, Amanda asleep in Mattie’s arms. A sudden desire for a family of his own pulled at his heart. “Nathan’s ready for bed,” he said.

  Mattie smiled. “So is Amanda.”

  “I’ll hitch the buggy and give you a ride,” Malinda offered and scurried out the back door.

  “I had a gut time getting to know your fraa,” his mother said. “Will we see you tomorrow?”

  Bo shook his head. “We have to get back to Badger Creek.”

  His mother frowned.

  “Maybe you two could exchange letters,” Mattie suggested.

  “I’d like that,” Mamm said.

  Bo nodded. “Me too.” He gave his mother a much overdue hug.

  “Tell Mrs. Nettleton danki for all she’s done,” she whispered.

  Bo cocked his head. “You know about her?”

  Mamm sniffled. “She stopped to see me a few years ago. Your father had gone to town, so I invited her in for kaffi. That’s when I learned about your accident. She said she and her husband had brought you home, but . . .” She paused to wipe her eyes with a tissue.

  “But Daed made it clear he had nay sohn.” He hadn’t meant to make her cry. The past was in the past.

  “I knew you were in gut hands. Mrs. Nettleton promised that you would always have a place to call home.”

  Bo couldn’t speak.

  Mamm touched his shoulder. “Write to me when you can, please?”

  “I will.”

  A few minutes later, they were headed back to Mattie’s cousin’s house. Malinda talked about the different changes in the community, people who had moved away and businesses that had opened or closed. She never mentioned what happened to Thomas. She pulled up to the darkened house and stopped the buggy. “Do you think I might be able to visit you up north some time?”

  Bo wasn’t sure how to answer his sister. He wasn’t even Amish.

  Mattie spoke up. “You’re wilkom anytime.”

  He widened his eyes at Mattie but she held her smile.

  His sister beamed. “I’ve never gone anywhere outside of St. Joseph County.”

  Before she started packing her bags, Bo changed the subject. “What happened to Thomas?”

  Malinda sobered. “He left home to search for you and ended up in the army. His jeep turned over somewhere oversees and the military said he had a brain injury. He came home just before Christmas last year, discharged from the army and with a steel plate in his head.”

  Left home to search for you . . . Bo hated that he was the cause.

  “It created an uproar in the district. Thomas had developed a worldly vocabulary. Our family was almost shunned. That year the crops had failed and we almost had to move away.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “At first, Daed wasn’t going to let him stay. But I think he felt guilty. Mamm sank into a deep depression after you and Thomas left. Seeing Thomas again sparked her hope that maybe she would see you again too.”

  Bo hung his head. “I’m glad we were able to get together for supper.” He said good-bye to his sister, promising to write.

  Mattie carried Amanda into the house as Bo followed with Nathan asleep in his arms. He tucked Nathan into bed. The sooner they got on the road for Badger Creek, the better.

  Mattie came out of the bedroom. “Amanda is worn out.”

  “It’s been a long day.”

  Mattie headed into the kitchen. “I’m going to make a cup of tea. Would you like one?”

  “Is it caffeinated?” He had a long drive ahead of him.

  “You’re a brave soul drinking caffeine this late.” She placed the kettle on the stove. “Bo, what exactly made you jump the fence?”

  He thought for a moment of where to begin. “It wasn’t my intention.”

  Her brow crinkled. “What do you mean?”

  “I told you my father was a hard man to please. I still have markings from his temper. One day I’d had enough. He wheeled the leather strap and I caught it. I wanted him to feel the burn against his flesh.”

  Her eyes widened. “You struck your father?”

  He shook his head. “I tossed it at his feet and walked off. Walked nearly five miles before hitching a ride with someone. I planned to hang out in town while my father cooled down. The next thing I remember, tires were squealing and I was tossed like a limp rag up against a car’s windshield. I woke up a week later in a hospital room, my head shaved and arms restrained. Apparently my clothes were cut off me either at the scene or in the emergency room and were lost in the shuffle of being rushed into surgery. I had no form of identification to tell me who I was before the accident. What puzzled the medical staff was the fact that no one was looking for me. The surgeon, who had a heart for missions, took a great interest in finding my family. He checked with the sheriff’s department for anyone searching for a missing kid and nothing ever came up. I was a mystery. The driver had died in the accident. When his family came to claim his body, they couldn’t identify me either.”

  “What happened?”

  “I became a ward of the court. Only, no foster home wanted me. I had too many health issues after the accident that required having to relearn basic tasks again. The surgeon and his wife, Judge Nettleton, took me in.” He shrugged. “I underwent months of strenuous physical therapy and tutoring.”

  “But your memory came back, right?”

  “Eventually,” he said quietly. “It took a year before I could put together the flashbacks and dreams. My new parents took me back to the farm. That’s when my father said he didn’t have a son.” Bo turned away. He’d never told anyone the story.

  “So, you’re nett a fence-jumper by choice.”

  He cringed. What did it matter? His father had looked him in the eye and denounced him as his son. “Can you get your things together?” Bo took a step away, but Mattie stopped him.

  She placed her hand on his arm, her blue eyes intense, pleading. “Nett tonight, Bo, please.”

  “I made a few calls on my way here,” he said. “Things are going to be . . .” Her grip tightened on his arm. His breathing turned ragged. “You can’t . . . run . . . away.” She had him floundering—underwater. Unable to think. Focus. Her
face tilted toward his, her lips slightly parted; if he was reading the longing in her eyes correctly, she was giving him permission to kiss her. Warm breaths fanned his cheeks. “I care a great deal about . . . you.” Bo lowered his mouth over hers, kissing her slowly at first, then hearing a soft moan escape her lips, he placed his hand on her back and pressed her firmly against his chest. Releasing a guttural rasp, he whispered, “You’re beautiful,” and he deepened the kiss. Her hands traveled over his shoulders, up the back of his neck. She twined her fingers through his hair, pushing him closer, seeking more in his kiss.

  Her touch awakened every fiber of his body, and he fought to regain control. Too far. Stop. Distance yourself. Bo pulled back, breathing raggedly.

  Mattie lowered her head. “I don’t know what got into me.”

  He wasn’t sure what happened either, but he liked it. Wanted more.

  “I, ah . . .” She shuddered. “Andy’s the only man I’ve ever kissed.”

  Idiot. He kneaded the corded muscles that were tightening in his neck. “And you feel guilty.”

  She looked up. “Nay,” she said softly. “It felt right.”

  He ushered her back into his arms, holding her tight as she nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck. She felt right in his arms. So right. How would he let her go? Bo kissed her forehead, then pulled back. “We have to be in Badger Creek by morning.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Mattie’s lips tingled. Her mind was numb. She had left Badger Creek to get away from the false accusations, and now she was heading home to face them again. She trusted Bo. After meeting his family and learning about the harsh conditions growing up, she understood him better. He hadn’t jumped the fence in the way other youths left. But could he ever walk away from the Englisch world that had accepted him?

  Bo turned off I-75 and stopped at a roadside park. “I know we only have a couple more hours, but I need to rest my eyes a few minutes before we cross the bridge.” He turned off the engine. He dropped his seat back a few inches, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

  Her nerves were wound tighter than a spool of thread. She ran her hand over the folds in her dress. “You never said how you liked the Sunday meeting.”

  “I tried to find you in the crowd,” he said without opening his eyes. “Whose idea was it for all the women to wear black?”

  “Grace’s.”

  “Hmm . . . That wasn’t fair.”

  Mattie smiled. “I missed our Sunday gathering. What was Bishop Yoder’s message about?”

  “The prodigal son.”

  “Like you.”

  He shifted in the seat. “Aren’t you tired?”

  Silence fell between them and minutes turned into hours. The morning sun cast a beautiful glow over the Mackinac Bridge and Mattie waited for Bo to awaken from his slumber. His chest rose and fell in cadence with his soft breaths. She leaned against the car door, amazed at how comfortable she felt with Bo. She couldn’t remember a time being more relaxed with a man she wasn’t married to. A few months ago, when she told Grace she was ready to move forward, Mattie never dreamed she would give her heart to an Englischer. God certainly had a strange way of bringing two people together.

  Vaguely aware of Mattie sitting on the passenger side beside him, Bo’s muscles went limp. He was floating through a haze of white smoke.

  BOAZ, MY SON, OPEN YOUR eyes.”

  Obeying the Master’s voice, he opened his eyes. He stood in an open meadow that stretched beyond his depth of vision. The grassy field was soft against his bare feet as he walked toward the faint sound of a lamb’s bleat. The sun shone on the wool fleece, creating a halo.

  Bo knelt beside the small creature and gathered it into his arms. He looked up and spotted the herd grazing on a hillside in the distance. Bo carried the lamb to the rest of the flock, but when he lowered it to the ground to join the others, the members of Mattie’s district had replaced the sheep. Bo glanced at the Amish clothes hanging on him like filthy rags.

  “Bo.” He recognized his stepfather’s voice, but when he searched the area, Bo couldn’t find him. “You promised me you’d take care of your mother.”

  Bo jolted awake.

  “Someone’s calling you,” Mattie said.

  Had he been talking in his sleep? Bo rubbed his eyes. A muffled ring came from the glove box.

  Bo retrieved his phone but the call had gone to voice mail. He pressed the recorded message and lifted the phone to his ear. His mother had called to remind him of his appointment with Internal Affairs.

  “I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” he said, turning the ignition key.

  “You must have been really tired.” Mattie glanced at the children sleeping in their car seats. “They’re worn out too.”

  “Apparently I was. Would you like me to stop for coffee?”

  “I don’t need any,” she replied.

  If he wasn’t in a hurry, Bo would have liked to stop for breakfast. But as it was, he wasn’t sure if he would have time to shower and change before his appointment. He made a few turns and merged onto I-75 North. Once he was over the five-mile bridge and paid the toll, he increased his speed. Arriving at the meeting dressed in ankle-high pants, a collarless shirt, and suspenders would raise some eyebrows. He rubbed his jaw. He needed to shave.

  Mattie broke the silence. “So, do you ever miss farming?”

  “Sometimes.” He missed milking cows and tending the horses and the hours spent alone mending fences or gathering the honeycombs from the beehives.

  “What do you miss the most?”

  “I used to have a small workshop where I made furniture. I wasn’t very good, but I liked taking rough timber and turning it into something smooth and useful.”

  “Did your daed teach you?”

  He shook his head. “My grossdaadi.”

  Mattie seemed to know he needed time alone with his thoughts and sank against the car seat. After several minutes, she asked, “Was it difficult to adjust to the Englisch world?”

  “I wasn’t thrilled about being tutored at first. I finished Amish school after eighth grade and the thought of having four years of high school was a bit overwhelming. But it wasn’t long before I discovered how much I liked learning new things. Soon I was anxious to go to college.”

  “Did you ever build more furniture?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a shame you let that talent go.” Mattie glanced at the backseat. “I’d like to see Nathan become a carpenter.”

  “I’m sure he’ll have that opportunity growing up working around a sawmill.”

  An hour later, they were on the outskirts of town. They passed the hospital on the right and Mattie frowned.

  “Don’t worry,” Bo said. He wished the voice message from his mother included good news for Mattie instead of just a reminder about the meeting.

  Mattie turned her attention out the window and sighed. “It’s hard nett to worry.”

  He reached for her hand. “God performed a miracle with Nathan. He will take care of everything else too.”

  She glanced at their hands and smiled. “I believe He has already given me reason to hope.”

  Bo released her hand, using the excuse to adjust the air vent. They were from two separate worlds.

  At the end of the meeting with Internal Affairs, Bo was reinstated as an investigator for Child Protective Services. He learned Davis had resigned after the press aired the debacle at the bishop’s house. It seemed the senator’s daughter had fallen out of favor with the public when the reporter looked into Bo’s statement about Nathan’s illness being misdiagnosed.

  Once the members of the review board left Norton’s office, Bo stood to leave.

  “Stick around, Lambright,” Norton said. “We need to talk.”

  “Sure.” Bo sat back down. His mother wasn’t expecting him for another hour so he wasn’t in a rush.

  Norton leaned against the corner of his desk and crossed his arms. “You were lucky.”

  Bo n
odded.

  “You disobeyed orders and continued to follow the case even after you were placed on suspension. That alone is grounds for termination.”

  “I understand,” Bo said.

  “You jeopardized your career for that woman.”

  “I had to. She was innocent.”

  Norton cleared his throat. “She’s fortunate to have someone as loyal as you. From what I was told, you probably saved the boy’s life.”

  He shook his head. “God performed a miracle.”

  His boss extended his hand and Bo shook it. “Next time you go behind my back, I’m firing you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Norton opened the door. “I look forward to seeing you back at your desk tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” Bo walked into the outer office and spotted Max filling his mug at the coffeepot and waved. He continued outside and was halfway across the parking lot when he heard his name called. He turned as Max jogged up to him.

  “Hey, I hope there’s no hard feelings,” Max said.

  “About what?”

  “Bringing the reporters to the Amish church service.”

  Bo smiled. “It worked out for the good.”

  “I guess you probably heard about Erica leaving.”

  “I did, but can we talk about this another time? I’m meeting my mother for lunch.”

  “Oh, sure. I just wanted to tell you the doctor called and asked that the Diener investigation be dropped.”

  “Really?”

  “Doctor Roswell returned from vacation and wasn’t too pleased with what had happened. Just between us, I think Doctor Wellington is worried about a lawsuit.”

  Bo wasn’t about to tell Max that the Amish didn’t believe in lawsuits. The less information Max had, the better. “So the case is closed? Totally?”

  “Yep. The doctor called Norton first thing this morning. Apparently, in talking with the parents of the infant with the botulism poisoning, they discovered it was caused by honey the two-year-old sister had fed him earlier that morning.”