As Grace sipped her third cup of coffee, she felt jealous. Unlike the dog, who seemed to have picked up no lasting effects from either the break-in scare or the mouse, she was spent and exhausted.
Maybe even more than that.
After John Michael left the night before, she had felt so alone it was almost terrifying. Never in her life had anything prepared her for what had happened that day.
What was still happening. She was not only having to come to terms with the fact that she had seen tracks outside her door, but they’d been purposefully removed, too. They’d also opened the door, and then left without a trace.
All of this was scary. But it was compounded by the fact that her family was out of town. If they hadn’t been, she would have run right home.
Her parents would have helped her, too. Daed would have dropped everything and inspected the house with her. He wouldn’t have acted impatient or doubtful, either. Instead, he would have walked around until they both felt that everything was safe and sound.
And her mother would have been so comforting! Mamm would have given her a hug and talked her through all her fears. Even her sisters would have stayed with her, or at the very least, would have made her laugh and relax a bit.
Her best friend, Jennifer, would have helped her, too.
Just as John Michael had.
The realization hit her hard. She’d been sure she couldn’t trust him, shouldn’t rely on him—but again and again, he was proving her to be wrong.
Here she’d thought their relationship was confusing, but maybe it was only her feelings for him that were.
Last night she’d been so bewildered about her feelings for John Michael and worried about the prowlers returning that she’d paced and fretted. She walked the halls of the large house with a flashlight in her hand and peered into the five other bedrooms at regular intervals. Her imagination ran wild. Sometimes she was even afraid that she was going to suddenly see a stranger reclining on one of the beds and waiting for her when she peeked in.
She didn’t drift off to sleep until long after midnight, only to find herself wide awake just after three in the morning. Her body felt tense and charged, as if she’d been on the receiving end of some kind of foreign electrical current; her legs were restless and she felt like she was burning up. Thirty minutes after that, she was freezing.
She ended up making cinnamon scones around four in the morning. Only after she’d taken them out of the oven and the whole first floor smelled of sugar and spices did she get tired again.
She’d returned to bed and fell into an exhausted slumber. Consequently, she woke up later than usual and felt out of sorts.
After she finished that third cup of coffee, Grace knew she had to do something else besides worry and wander the halls.
When she spied the pan of scones that she’d made earlier that morning, she knew exactly what she needed to do. It was time to think about someone else for a change.
After carefully wrapping each cinnamon scone in waxed paper and then placing them in a cardboard box, Grace decided to walk to see Miss Schultz.
She had considered taking Snooze for about a minute or two. Long enough to imagine Snooze being uncomfortable in the snow or squirming in her arms. Both of those things would only make him more disagreeable.
After taking him outside, giving him a generous portion of kibble, and attempting to pet his head, which he burrowed under his quilt so she couldn’t pet him twice, Grace went on her way.
The moment she locked the door and started down the drive, her heart felt lighter. This was what she’d needed. Space from the worry of the Lees’ house.
Though it was still cold, the day was still sunny and looked to stay that way. She had on sturdy boots, her cloak over her navy dress, and a red wool scarf and matching mittens. On her head was a black bonnet. It covered her hair and kapp and kept her ears warm. She was toasty warm and happy to be out walking.
She even had company. Blue jays, orioles, and cardinals were enjoying the sunny day, too. They chirped on the bare trees lining either side of both the driveway and the main road. Their antics made her laugh as she watched their aerial acrobatics.
An hour later, Grace felt refreshed and was knocking on Miss Schultz’s door.
Checking from the side of the door, through a sheer fabric lining the window, Miss Schultz peered suspiciously at her. “Jah?”
“Miss Schultz? It’s Grace King.”
Faded gray eyes stared back at her. “Who?”
“Grace, Miss Schultz. I would see you at church and sometimes you’d let me sit with you.” Smiling softly, she continued. “One time, you gave me a pen to draw with, but the ink inside of it burst and you and I got blue ink all over our hands! Mei mamm got mad at me, but you just laughed.”
“Did I? Hmm.”
Grace’s spirits sank as she realized that Miss Dorma had no memories of either the incident or of her. “It’s okay if you don’t remember,” she said softly. “You were kind to many kinner.”
After staring again, Dorma said, “What do you want?”
Grace held up her cardboard box. “I brought you some scones.”
“I don’t want any.”
The answer made Grace ache and feel a bit despondent. Maybe this visit wasn’t doing any good and was only making Miss Dorma agitated.
But then she remembered her conversation with John Michael. Miss Schultz wasn’t the woman she used to be. Maybe she’d even turned into someone she’d never been. And if that was the case? . . . their past didn’t really matter. What did matter was the relationship they could form now.
Trying to look cheerful, she said, “I promise you will like them. May I come in? I’ll put one on a plate for you.”
Miss Schultz opened the door a crack but didn’t step away so Grace could enter. It was almost as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.
With a start, Grace realized that Miss Dorma wasn’t used to having visitors. That realization made her so sad. Where was the woman’s family? For that matter, how come their very own church community had forsaken her?
Grace had always loved her Amish faith. She believed her religion and chosen way of life encouraged the best in each person. Its basic principles were so simple, too: honoring God, love of family and friends, and respecting their traditions. It also emphasized the belief in helping out each other and being self-reliant. Though it wasn’t the norm for members of their faith to send parents or grandparents to nursing homes, it was completely out of the ordinary to abandon someone when they needed help.
Just as Grace was feeling rather full of herself, she was brought up short. She was no better than anyone else. Whatever had happened with Dorma had happened and couldn’t be changed. All that could be changed was the future, which she could do something about.
She felt as though God was whispering in her ear, reminding her that He had put Dorma Schultz in her path for a reason.
After waiting another half a minute, Miss Schultz made her decision. She turned and walked inside, leaving the front door open that small crack.
Taking a deep breath, Grace followed her inside. When she shut the door behind her, she felt as if she had just entered a maze and now she was off on a journey that she wasn’t sure where it was going to lead to.
“I’m watching the birds,” Miss Schultz announced.
Entering the living room where the older lady was sitting, looking vacantly out the window, Grace could hardly contain her shudder. The house was filthy. Papers and unopened mail littered every surface and table. Old tissues and napkins had been discarded on the floor. But that was not the extent of it. Dust clung to the battery-operated lamp and the woodwork. She spied spiderwebs distended from the window frames.
But the worst of it was the smell that permeated the entire room. The scents of an unwashed body, soiled clothes, all mixed with urine and other things she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, filled the air. It was more than obvious that no one had cleaned this house for a very long
time.
She felt a lump in her throat that she wondered if she was ever going to be able to dislodge. “Would you like a nice cup of tea and the treat I brought?”
“Jah.”
Grace walked toward the kitchen and saw the mess that she had almost expected. Dirty dishes were in the sink and on the countertops. Food that had been left out unattended was either dried up or forming mold.
But the worst part for Grace was seeing the new bottle of dish soap standing idle by the sink. Someone had paid for the soap but hadn’t cared enough to wash the dishes for Miss Schultz.
Who on earth was letting her live like this?
“I’m just going to tidy up a bit,” she called out, hoping that she sounded more merry than she felt. “You just watch the birds.”
Miss Schultz didn’t answer.
For the moment, Grace was pleased about that. Because she didn’t think she would be able to form a coherent conversation. Her heart felt too heavy.
For the next forty minutes, Grace washed dishes, gathered trash, and scrubbed countertops. Little by little, in the kitchen, at least, the scent of lemon dish soap began to fill the air. It gave her an immense feeling of satisfaction. When the sink was sparkling and all of the dishes were put away, she scrubbed out the teakettle and set it to heat. Tried to be thankful that someone had paid the gas bills, because there had been no shortage of hot water and the range turned on immediately.
Then she searched the cupboards for tea. She found a surprising selection of tea and coffee. She was again reminded that someone had been seeing to the grocery shopping and had put everything away, but had not taken the next step to make sure Miss Schultz actually had decent meals to consume.
After steeping a cup of chamomile tea, she put a scone on the plate and carried it to Miss Schultz. “Here you go. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Miss Schultz eagerly took the tea from her and sipped.
“Careful, it’s hot,” she warned. Thank goodness she hadn’t allowed the water to get too hot.
Miss Schultz ignored the fork and took a large bite of the scone. Her eyes widened, then she took another bite. The look on her face was priceless. It was obvious that she was enjoying it very much.
“Would you like another?”
“Jah.”
Grace fetched another scone. Then got herself a cup of tea, too, needing something to warm her up. “Here you go.”
Miss Schultz took a bite, then carefully set it down on her plate. Then stared hard at Grace. “You were always far too quiet.”
Grace burst into laughter. “You do remember me! You’re right. I always had my nose in a book, much to my teachers’ dismay. I often got in trouble for reading a library book instead of my assignments.”
Miss Schultz continued to study her. “Jah, you were a reader, but I still remember seeing ya whisper to your girlfriends or make eyes at the young men from time to time.”
“I can’t deny that.” Of course, she’d really only been staring at one man—John Michael. Holding out a hand, she said, “I’m glad you remember me. My name is Grace,” she said again.
“Grace.”
“Grace King.” Miss Schultz took another bite of her scone, then set it down and went back to staring at the birds. “Who takes care of you, Miss Schultz?”
“Mei nohma is Dorma. You may call me that.”
“Danke, Dorma.” Trying again, Grace asked, “Who comes in to cook and clean and shop for you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? Did you forget their names? Or is it your family?”
“I don’t have my family any longer. They moved away.”
“Far away?”
Looking strangely coherent, Dorma Schultz stared directly at her. “Does it matter how far they are if they don’t come here?”
Feeling tears prick her eyes, Grace shook her head. Then she remained sitting by Dorma Schultz’s side and wondered what she should do next. For some reason only He knew.
The Lord had brought her to Dorma’s side. Now she needed to help Dorma and make Him pleased with her efforts.
Chapter 14
John Michael had just taken a bite of Hank’s lasagna when the alarm bells started ringing throughout the fire station.
Immediately, John got to his feet, taking only the briefest of moments to look longingly at his tasty supper. With any luck, it would still be sitting there when he returned.
He raced down the stairs, Anderson at his heels. Trained well, they didn’t speak, each intent on listening to the description of the call from their earpieces.
There was another fire. This time, it was out by the old abandoned VFW lodge. Unlike the previous time, this fire had broken out in an abandoned building within shouting distance of a popular Englisher neighborhood. The good news about that piece of information was that they wouldn’t have to bring the pumper truck. They could hook up to a fire hydrant. The bad news, of course, was that they were going to have to be worried about the many homes nearby.
Once he got into the garage, he went to his turnout gear. First, he put on his hood, which he’d laid on top of his boots, then methodically stepped into the specially fitted uniform, all of it designed for his measurements, from his boot size to the breadth of his shoulders. Finally, he donned his helmet and SCBA, his self-contained breathing apparatus. He stuffed his gloves into a pocket so they were ready to be put on when he got closer to the destination.
“Captain,” John acknowledged, then hopped up behind Anderson just as Hank got into the driver’s seat and Cap jumped in by his side. Then, with lights flashing, they were off.
They each had a job to do. His, being the junior member of the trio, was to do whatever the captain told him to. But now, part of the department for a good while already, his body worked its usual routine. Checked gages, ran tests, and mentally prepared for what was to come.
Eight minutes later, Hank pulled to a stop in front of the burning building. Anderson hopped out and motioned for John Michael to assist with hooking up the hoses to the nearby fire hydrant.
After the hose was attached, Captain took the lead and began to spray the fire. Soon John Michael was by his side. He was aware of little beyond the captain’s orders and the knowledge that Hank was breaking windows and ventilating the roof to make sure no stray gases were enclosed in air pockets.
A few moments later, the fire began to already look noticeably less ferocious. Less than ten minutes later, it was completely extinguished and the captain was motioning for John to disconnect his hose and for Hank to follow him closer to the smoking building.
By this time, Chief Nolan had arrived. He was dressed in full bunker gear, too, but it was obvious that he was letting Captain Butler take the lead.
When the scene was deemed safe, the captain motioned that they could all disengage their SCBA gear and lift up the shields on their helmets.
“You did good, John,” Anderson said.
“Thanks. I’m glad the fire didn’t spread.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
John Michael noticed Anderson was frowning and watching their captain talk to both the chief and Sheriff Brewer, who had just pulled up. They were standing next to a small crowd of bystanders. From the snippets of conversations that were floating toward him, it was becoming obvious that the start of the fire was a mystery. The building had been out of use for at least two years and no one could remember a time when they’d seen a single person even stop in the VFW’s parking lot.
“Something’s going on,” Anderson said. “Look how the sheriff’s pointing to the subdivision.”
“I wonder why he’s doing that,” John Michael said.
Just then Hank walked toward them. “Clean up the hoses,” he called out to John Michael. “Anderson, come over here.”
John felt a moment of envy. He didn’t often mind being the rookie on the team, but it was moments like this, when his curiosity was strong, that he wished he could be in the midst of the conversations in
stead of doing the grunt work.
Just as quickly, he shook off the selfish thought. He had an important job to do and it was one he needed to do well. He went back to his tasks while the captain and chief inspected the site and Hank and Anderson spoke to the bystanders. Then the building inspection began. John Michael knew one or both of them would stay behind with the chief to finish the job while he rode back to the house with the captain.
An hour later, after they got back to the station, John Michael finally got the whole story from Captain Butler. Two houses in the neighborhood were robbed while the fire was going on. This same thing had happened in the north part of the county with another department. The sheriff and chief were beginning to think that some criminals now had a pattern. They were setting fire to an abandoned building or structure near occupied houses. Then, while everyone’s attention was on the fire, they were breaking into houses, essentially undetected.
“This is terrible,” John Michael said. “I hope they have an idea of who it was.”
Captain Butler shrugged. “I don’t think they do. Not yet, anyway.”
Sean walked up and joined them. “I’m guessing some teenagers are doing it. They’re always looking for a few kicks.”
“At least no one was in the building. Someone in our homeless population could have been sleeping there.”
“It’s a blessing that no one was hurt, but it’s a shame about that building,” John Michael murmured. The building was at least a hundred years old and had once been both the high school and the county library. He’d always hoped someone with a lot of time and money could return it to its former glory.
“I agree completely.” The captain slapped him on the back. “Since we can’t go investigate, let’s check out the truck and clean it up good. I don’t want the salt on the roads to wreak havoc.”
“Yes, sir,” Sean said.
“Check your equipment good, too, Miller. That fire was a scorcher.”
“Yes, Captain.”
After examining and cleaning up his turnout gear, then putting it neatly away, he climbed into the truck and began going through the checklist.
His Promise Page 8