by Leslie Gould
He crossed his arms. “Then I’ll say my piece out here.”
I stood straight and turned toward him, looking him straight in his tired, faded blue eyes.
“A child—especially a daughter—is meant to obey her parents. And honor them. You know what it says in Scripture.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve had enough of your stubbornness. Maybe we’ve been too strict and this is your way of getting back at us. Maybe you think you could follow your Bruders’ examples, but the truth is you’ve done far worse. None of them have betrayed your mother and me the way you have. It’s time to stop. It’s clear as mud.”
He paused for a moment as if waiting for me to respond to his nonsensical statement.
I didn’t.
He continued. “I left a message for Phillip and the bishop. They’ll be over in the morning. We’ll all discuss your future then.”
I continued to stare at him, clenching my jaw as I did. Anything I said would only make it worse.
He turned toward the house, but then, over his shoulder, said, “You’re not to go anywhere tonight. Come in as soon as you’re done.”
I bit my tongue. Sure, I wanted to get to Big Valley, but not tonight.
I turned my attention back to the garden. It was completely dark when I reached the end of the last row. I leaned against the hoe for a moment, feeling sticky in the thick humidity, when I heard the rattle of a vehicle. Its headlights bounced up and down the lane.
It was George’s truck. I waited until he parked to walk toward him.
He jumped out.
He spoke quietly but with excitement. “Danny left a message for me, with the number in Big Valley. I’ve taken care of everything. Jonathan’s probably on his way back already.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Plus, I called Molly around noon and told her you were having a hard time, worse than Hannah even. That you weren’t leaving the farm—barely leaving the house. And if Jonathan didn’t come soon, I imagined you’d soon be hospitalized. I told her we’re all afraid you might hurt yourself.”
“George.” My heart fell. “That’s not true.”
“It doesn’t matter. The whole county will think it is, including all the Mosiers. So eventually Jonathan’s parents will hear it too. They’ll realize how badly they’ve treated you and feel bad about it—don’t you think?”
“No!”
“You don’t think they’ll feel bad?”
“No—they won’t. It’s a horrible plan.”
“Ach, Addie. It’s working perfectly. Molly called up there to Jonathan too. He’s frantic about you. He said he’d leave as soon as he could.”
“George, this is terrible.” What if something happened to Jonathan on his way down? What if he truly believed I was distraught, that I might harm myself?
“It’s going to work, Addie. You’ll see. I’m going to go talk to Onkel Bob and tell him Jonathan’s on his way back, and I’ll assume Dirk Mosier will soon follow. Onkel Bob can arrange a meeting with all the parents.”
I brushed a trickle of sweat from my temple. “Daed has Phillip Eicher and his Dat coming over in the morning.”
George grimaced. “Let me think about that.”
“And what about Timothy? Does he know Jonathan is coming back?”
“No.”
“But he will, right? If Molly and everyone else knows.”
Obviously George hadn’t thought about that either. “I’ll talk to him,” he said.
I shook my head. “That will only make it worse.”
“What will make it worse?” a voice behind me asked.
I spun around.
Timothy leaned against the tailgate of George’s truck, his baseball cap on his head and a smirk on his face, the sling no longer on his arm.
I didn’t answer him.
“No need to be evasive,” he said to me, “since you two aren’t any good at being secretive. I heard you say the bit about Jonathan being on his way.” He rubbed his hands together. “But don’t worry—I had a call about it earlier today. You’re right, Addie, I am still out to get him. And I’ll be waiting. . . .” He leaned back farther. “I’m guessing he’ll come here first.”
I grabbed George’s arm and pulled him toward the barn. “Call Molly and tell her to get a message to Jonathan. Tell him to stay put. I’ll find a way to get to Big Valley.”
“Ach, Addie, you can’t do that.” George’s voice was louder than it needed to be. “You don’t know anyone there.”
“You could take me,” I said. “Tonight. Please.”
“Please.” Timothy followed us, mocking me.
“Go away,” I hissed.
“Oh, I will,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “Straight to Daed.” He spun around and headed to the house.
“Now you’ve done it,” George said.
“What does it matter to you?”
“I was hoping to move home—you know, to save some money and join the church.” He blushed. “So Sadie and I can get married.”
I was thrilled, really, but the most I could muster was “Congratulations.”
“Jah, that’s why I can’t take you anywhere tonight. I can’t jeopardize Dat not letting me move home.” He threw his keys up in the air, caught them, and turned back toward his pickup. Obviously his generosity had its limits. “I need to get going,” he said. “But I’ll stop by Onkel Bob’s and tell him what’s going on.”
I sighed. He could do what he wanted. I just couldn’t imagine what difference it would make in the long run.
I stepped from the dim kitchen into the dark living room, expecting that everyone had gone up to bed, but startled when Daed said my name. I squinted toward the couch. He and Timothy were sitting on opposite ends with Mutter in the middle.
“You’re not to go anywhere tonight,” Daed said. “Do you understand?”
“Jah,” I answered, overcome with frustration.
“This is out of your hands,” Mutter added. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“Jah,” Timothy chirped.
I fled to the stairs, away from all of them, up to my room. I lit my lamp and began pacing around and around. About ten minutes later, a knock came on my door. It wasn’t Aenti Nell. It was Daed asking, “Are you in bed?”
“Getting there,” I said, trying to decide what I should do. Maybe I could hitchhike to Big Valley—but I would most likely pass Jonathan on the way. Maybe I could hitchhike to Molly’s house. She would have an idea.
I grabbed a jacket, the flashlight from beside my bed, and my purse. I had the money Jonathan had returned to me—but that was all.
I extinguished the lamp and turned the knob slowly, pushing open the door as I did.
“Addie.” It was Daed’s voice, coming from the floor of the hall.
I stepped back.
“I’m staying out here until I know you’re asleep.”
I pulled the door shut, imagining him sitting with his back against the door in the dark. It was the most I remembered him doing on my behalf in all my life, although it was exactly the opposite of what I wanted him to be doing.
I sank back down to the bed, feeling as if I’d consumed two pots of strong coffee even though I hadn’t had a sip since breakfast. Desperation overtook me and my eyes landed on Mutter’s old hope chest. I didn’t want my things in there. I didn’t want them at all if I didn’t have a future with Jonathan. As I opened it, thunder crashed in the distance.
I used the flashlight to peer in. Mutter had folded everything neatly, a first for her. I pulled out pillowcases, taking the stack to the French doors and opening them all the way.
“What are you doing?” Daed called out, as if he were speaking into the crack between the floor and the door.
“Just getting some fresh air,” I replied, stepping onto the balcony for the first time in my life and flinging a pillowcase over the railing. It floated down just as the rain began to start.
“Go to bed.” His voice sounded as if he were half aslee
p.
I flung another pillowcase over the railing, and it caught for a moment in the air, like a cloud of hope, but then the rain pelted it to the ground. I threw the rest of the stack over, hurried back to the chest, grabbed a set of sheets, and returned to the balcony.
They didn’t sail as far and landed in the flower beds below.
I spun the potholders with a flick of my wrist like Frisbees and they went farther, although I couldn’t see how far in the dark. Next went the dishtowels and then the bath towels. I placed my quilts on my bed and kept digging.
It only took me a few minutes until I pulled the last item out of the chest, or so I thought. As I yanked up the linen table runner I’d embroidered when I was eleven, my hand brushed against what felt like paper.
It was a business envelope, wedged upright against the inside bottom of the chest, flush with the corner. I pulled it free. It was addressed simply to Laurel. My heart raced as I opened the flap that had been tucked inside and then pulled out a packet of papers.
Sitting down on the bed, I unfolded it and began to read the first one.
LAUREL, it read, all written in capital letters.
I MUST WARN YOU AGAINST DATING DAVID CRAMER. No one called my father by his given name.
HE’S A LIAR AND A CHEAT. I bristled at anyone calling my father that. He was a harsh man, true, but I’d never known him to lie and certainly not to cheat anyone.
YOU CAN DO MUCH BETTER.
I began to feel sick to my stomach, and it was from more than just the content of the letter. It was the writing, the capitals, in particular. Mutter wrote all of her lists in caps.
I patted my apron pocket, feeling the paper inside and pulled it out. It was a list from the day before.
LAUNDRY
WEED THE GARDEN
MEND DAT’S WORK SHIRT
CLEAN THE FLOORS
The handwriting wasn’t identical. The list had a shaky appearance, but her hand wasn’t as steady as it used to be. I’d noticed that for a few years now.
I kept reading the letters. Each one was more of the same, until the last one.
I KNOW YOU’VE GUESSED WHO’S WRITING THESE. AND SO HAS EVERYONE ELSE. KNOW I ONLY HAVE YOUR BEST INTEREST IN MIND. I MEANT NO HARM—JUST WANTED TO WARN YOU AGAINST MAKING A MISTAKE THAT WILL LAST A LIFETIME.
I shook my head. If Mutter wrote these, what was her purpose? Was she trying to make Daed jealous? Draw attention to herself? Or make him value her love all the more because there appeared to be someone who clearly didn’t think he was worthy of her?
I placed the list on top of the letters, clutched them in one hand and the flashlight in the other, and headed toward the door. Opening it, I almost kicked Daed with my foot. He was asleep, sprawled out on the hard floor, guarding my door.
He stirred.
“Daed,” I said, stepping over him and then bending down by his head. “I have something to show you.”
He sat up with a jerk, a stunned look on his face.
“Everything is all right. I just want to show you some things.” I sat down beside him and shone the flashlight on the letter and then the list. “Do you think there’s a chance Mutter wrote the letters instead of Dirk? Because it looks a lot like her handwriting.” I shifted the flashlight to her list and then shuffled through the letters to the last one, sure if I could show him that his fallout with Dirk was one big mistake, then we could put an end to the grudge between the Cramers and the Mosiers forever.
He took the letters from me, and I handed him the flashlight too. He read the last one, then thumbed through back to the first and read them one by one. “Where did you find these?” he finally asked.
“Mutter’s old hope chest.”
“Ach,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’ll ask your mother.” He patted my shoulder. “But not tonight. Tomorrow. Now go to bed, for sure.”
“Jah,” I said, certain we’d turned a corner. “And then we can talk about Jonathan.”
He exhaled slowly and then said, “We’ll see.”
It was the best answer I could hope for. “Good night, then,” I said, taking my flashlight from him and stepping back into my room, pulling the door shut behind me. I waited, listening for his steps going down the hall. When they didn’t come, I sat down on my bed, puzzled.
A moment later he stepped away from my door. It took another moment for me to realize he wasn’t going toward his door at all but down the stairs.
I stood, listening for a moment, until it came to me what he was up to.
“No.” I rushed from my room, down the stairs, the flashlight still in my hand. When I reached the kitchen, I turned on the beam, shining it on the woodstove. Daed stood in front of it, the door open, striking a match against the side of the box.
He looked up at me as he flung the flame into the stove, followed by the letters.
“No,” I cried out again.
“Go back to bed,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “I’ll explain in the morning.”
He didn’t care about the truth, but worse, he didn’t care about me. Not about what I needed. All my parents cared about was their own pride. About exactly what, as Amish, we were supposed to deny. I couldn’t depend on them. I couldn’t depend on my Bruders. I couldn’t even depend on my Aenti.
I couldn’t depend on Jonathan. I was utterly, completely alone.
I turned and ran, not out the back door or out the front, but up to my room. When I reached it, I shut my door tightly. But I felt no relief. I was trapped. And tomorrow I’d be forced to court Phillip Eicher. I flew to the French doors, flinging them open again, stepping out onto the balcony. My Bruders used to climb down the trellis just over the side. Why couldn’t I?
I had to take charge, to at least get to Molly’s house.
I eased my leg over the railing of the balcony and scooted all the way to the side, grabbing the trellis. I tugged on it. It seemed secure. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but everything—the balcony, the railing, the trellis—was slick. I swung one foot onto it, testing to see if it would hold. It did. Then I placed my other foot on it. Daed had built it to be secure, although I was sure he never guessed his daughter would use it to flee. I swung my body off the balcony and onto the trellis.
Tightening my grip, I paused for a moment.
“Remember, God is always present,” Jonathan had told me. “Just like the stars, even when we can’t see them.”
In my angst, I’d forgotten to pray. I’d forgotten God cared.
He didn’t have any pride he needed to protect.
“Dear God,” I whispered.
I took another step down.
“Please help—”
CHAPTER
20
Daed knelt beside me. Timothy stood behind him, talking on his phone. The wail of a siren grew closer.
I must have blacked out again, because the next thing I remembered was pain radiating from my head. The EMTs, one woman and one man dressed in dark pants and white shirts, stooped beside me as Daed stepped backward. Behind Timothy I could see Aenti Nell in her nightgown and robe, a Kapp placed haphazardly on her head.
The woman asked me how I was feeling.
“Fine,” I answered. “I’m okay.” I tried to sit up, but the woman told me not to.
She asked me a battery of questions. Could I move my hands? I did. My feet? Ditto.
The man pulled out a penlight and had me follow it with my eyes.
Then the woman slipped on a pair of latex gloves and felt under my head. “You’ve got quite a goose egg,” she said. “And some blood.”
I rolled my head to the side a little, orienting myself. The flower bed, lined with rocks, was only a couple of inches from my face. It appeared I’d hit a rock when I landed. I rolled my head the other way. Across the courtyard, in wet lumps, were my linens, towels, and runner—all that used to represent what I hoped for.
“We’ll have to transfer her,” the man said, looking up at Daed. “Probable concussion. Possible
neck injury.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to Daed.
He didn’t seem to hear me.
The woman pulled a white collar from the box beside her and slipped it around my neck, while the man headed back to the ambulance. A moment later he returned with another man carrying a yellow board. Together the three of them carefully rolled me onto my side, slid the board under me, and rolled me back onto it. Then they strapped me to the board, pulling one of the straps snug against my forehead.
Timothy said good-bye to whomever he was talking to, and George stepped forward, patting my arm. “It will be okay,” he said. “We still have a plan.”
I groaned. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Not like you did, I promise.” He grimaced. “By morning all will be well. Just wait and see.”
I tried to shake my head, but the collar and strap prevented it from moving. “Find Jonathan and tell him the truth. That I’m not depressed.”
“But you are going to the hospital.” George smiled, just a little.
“Tell him why. Don’t make him think I’m unstable.”
George looked toward the house, up at my window. “But you are. Don’t you think?”
I started to say I wasn’t, but the female EMT broke up our conversation. “Who’s going with her?” she asked.
“I am,” Daed answered, without hesitating. For a moment I wondered why Aenti Nell wasn’t, but she wasn’t dressed. Besides, Daed would need to fill out the paperwork. “Go get my hat,” he said to Timothy. “And my wallet.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to Daed, tears stinging my eyes.
“Ach, Addie . . .” He shook his head as if, for once, he didn’t know what to say.
The male EMT jumped into the back of the ambulance, still holding onto the board, and then all three slid me onto some sort of platform. If I didn’t hurt so bad, I’d have been mortified that an ambulance had come for me.
Aenti Nell stood at the open doors, with Daed behind her. She held her hand out to me, a befuddled look on her face.
“I’m okay,” I called out. “Tell Mutter.”
She nodded.
Timothy came running—with Daed’s hat and wallet, I presumed—and stuck his head in the back of the ambulance. “Get better real quick, Toad.”