by Diane Burke
“We wait.”
“That’s it? Just sit and wait for a madman to come and hurt our kinner, or kill me, or both?”
Benjamin jumped to his feet and shouted. “You must go! Maybe if you go, he will leave and we can all go back to our lives.”
Benjamin flailed his arms in anger, but Samuel saw beneath it and recognized the fear. He kept his voice calm and his tone reassuring.
“Tell me, Benjamin. If a wolf stalks a man’s sheep, will the wolf go away because the shepherd decides to leave the flock and go home?”
Sam paused while he waited for the other man to consider the wisdom of his words. When Sam spoke again, his voice, though calm, held a note of steel.
“This man will come for Sarah...and when he does, I will stop him.”
* * *
Sarah thanked the good Lord that the day had ended much quieter than it had started. She gently rocked back and forth on the front porch and watched the sun set over the newly planted fields. Despite the disturbing news at breakfast, once the discussion had ended, the men had gone about their chores, and the day had passed peacefully.
Samuel had kept busy in the barn with the table he had promised Jacob he would finish. Although he rarely left the barn, Sarah could feel his eyes upon her whenever she stepped out of the house. At first it was unsettling and made her uncomfortable, but after she’d had some time to think and pray about it, she realized his intention was to keep her safe, and she was grateful.
Rebecca crossed the porch and sat down beside her. “Let me help with the string beans.”
Sarah laughed. “Please, I may not be able to use my left shoulder, but my hand works. I can break string beans into smaller pieces for dinner.”
Rebecca glanced into the bowl resting on Sarah’s lap. “And it is a good job you do.”
Once Rebecca had settled into a soft, rhythmic rocking beside her, Sarah dared to broach the subject that had been weighing heavily on her mind all day.
“Rebecca, tell me about my family. In the hospital you changed the conversation when I mentioned my mother. No one has claimed me as daughter or sister or aunt. Do I have a family? Beside you and Jacob...and Peter, of course.”
A shadow crossed Rebecca’s face, and her rocking quickened.
“I do not wish to cause you any grief,” Sarah continued. “But of course, you must understand how difficult it has been for me not to know who I am, who I come from. I am afraid those memories may not return, and you...you could help me with some of the answers to this darkness inside.”
Rebecca dropped her head and remained silent.
“Was I an evil person? Did I come from a bad family? Is that why talking about it is difficult for you?”
Rebecca’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened in a perfect circle. “Lord, help us. Where would you get a notion such as that?”
“Because the question brings you pain. I assume it is bad memories I am asking you to recall.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth, child. The pain I feel is that of loss and grief for all the wonderful people who were part of my life and are now home with the Lord.”
Rebecca reached over and patted Sarah’s knee. “Your grandmother and I grew up together. We were best friends. Her name was Anna. She married when she was still in her teens and had a daughter soon after, a beautiful girl named Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth was a dervish of energy, a tornado of sunshine and light...just like you were, child. Elizabeth met an Englisch boy and left our community to marry him and live in his world. It broke Anna’s heart but...” Rebecca shrugged. “She understood this thing called love.”
“When your father was killed in a factory accident, Elizabeth brought you home. You were about five at the time. Such joy! Such happiness you brought to Anna’s eyes every time she looked at you.” A cloud passed over Rebecca’s expression. “And when your mother took ill and died, you were the only thing that kept Anna’s heart from shattering into a million pieces.”
Rebecca smiled at her. “Your grandmother died just before your tenth birthday. Jacob and I brought you into our home and raised you like one of our own. We were overcome with joy when you married Peter and became a true daughter, not just one of my heart.”
Rebecca’s eyes glistened with tears, pain, grief—and something else, something she found harder to identify. “You are all Jacob and I have left now. We have lost Anna and Elizabeth and...and Peter...” The catch in her words gave her pause.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”
“Ack. Sometimes life is painful, child. That is what makes it life and not heaven.” She smiled broadly. “But it is not all pain. We still have you, lieb. And the child you carry is God’s blessing to all of us. He knows how painful it has been for me. Not to see my son’s smiling face or hear his voice or watch him hammer away on the furniture he crafts in the barn. Part of my heart shattered that day in the school house. But not all of it...”
She cupped Sarah’s chin in her hand. “God made sure He left me with enough of a heart so I could fill it with love for you and for my grandchild. He took Peter to be with Him. That was His will, and sometimes it is hard to understand His ways. But He left a little part of Peter with us. For that, I am so very grateful. God is gut.”
Rebecca stood. “Kumm. It will be dark soon. The men will be tired and hungry. I am sure there is something I can find for you to help me with despite your sling. It will be like old times, fixing dinner together for our family.”
The two women embraced and then walked together into the house.
* * *
Later that evening, Sam saw Sarah standing on the porch. She stared up at the night sky and seemed to be studying the stars.
“For a person who just got out of the hospital, I find you spend most of your time outside.” Sam’s boots scraped loudly against the wooden floor of the porch.
Sarah turned her head and tossed a smile his way. The light from the kerosene lamp danced softly across her features.
“I’ve been cooped up much too long. I like to feel fresh air on my skin.” She turned her eyes back to the sky. “Have you ever really looked at the sky, Samuel? God is an artist, and He uses the sky as His palette. I watch in awe as the patterns and colors change from dawn to dusk to the inky blackness of night. Even then, He decorates the darkness with stars to light our way and to give us hope.”
Sam stepped behind her and wrapped a quilt around her shoulders. “If you insist on living on the porch, you must start wearing a jacket or sweater. The days are pleasant, but the temperatures still dip in the mornings and evenings. You’re going to be a mother. You must keep yourself warm and healthy.”
Almost on cue, a rush of cool air brushed past them and he could feel her quiver beneath his touch. She pulled the quilt tighter and burrowed into its warmth.
“You have looked at the sky for hours, Sarah. Even God has gone to bed,” he teased her.
Sarah chuckled. “True, I suppose. I find it easier to think when I’m out here.”
Sam gestured to a rocker. “I have been standing all day. I would like to sit now, and I can’t if I am supposed to be protecting you. How about protecting me for a little while? Sit with me so I can give my legs a rest.”
She did as requested. “I think it would be your eyes that need rest, Samuel. They bounced in my direction and then back to your chores so often, I’m surprised you can still see straight.”
He laughed hard and deep, the booming sound breaking through the silence of the night. No words needed to be spoken as they rocked together in perfect unison.
“You are right, Sarah,” Sam said. “You created quite a dilemma for me. A bodyguard cannot guard a body if he is not watching it, and a man cannot be a man if he stays in another man’s home and does not attempt to pull his own weight.
So my poor eyes got a workout for sure.” He rested his left ankle on his right knee.
“How is the table coming along? I saw how hard you worked. You went over every inch, your movements steady, your attention to detail evident.”
“Tomorrow I will do the final touches and it will be ready.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Maybe you will take pity on my eyes and sit with me in the barn.”
“Breathe in fresh air on the porch, or inhale the smell of hay, manure, animals and varnish in the barn? Sit in shadows when I can be outside and feel the warmth of the sun on my face. Hmm?” She held an index finger to her lips as if seriously considering the proposition. “Sorry, I think not, Samuel. You will just have to finish your chores faster and come sit in the sunshine with me.”
“I do sit in the sunshine whenever I am with you.”
The unexpected compliment seemed to surprise them both. A heavy silence fell over them. The only sound on the porch was the rhythmic swishing of the rockers. When Sam spoke again, his tone was thoughtful and serious.
“Talk to me, Sarah. What deep thoughts trouble you so much that you stare into the horizon for hours searching for answers? I know the past two weeks have been difficult. I understand. I am just wondering if there is something more...something deeper that troubles you.”
A tear slid down her cheek, and she hurried to wipe it away.
“You can talk to me, you know. Listening is part of bodyguard duties and comes absolutely free of charge.”
* * *
In the soft glow of the kerosene lamp, Sarah saw warmth and empathy in his eyes. She knew she could feel safe baring her soul to this man because he was a stranger. She didn’t have to choose her words with care for fear of saying the wrong thing or having something she said cause pain, like it sometimes did when she talked with Rebecca or Jacob. She felt she could talk to him about anything—except the unsettling feelings and questions she had about him, of course.
He reached out and clasped her hand. “Talk to me. I can be a good listener.”
She inhaled deeply. Maybe it would be helpful to talk with someone who might be able to understand the disappointment and fear gnawing inside. Grateful for an open ear, she kept her voice low so as not to disturb Rebecca or Jacob inside.
“I thought coming home would end all my troubles. I thought when I saw the house, when I returned to familiar surroundings and slipped back into a normal daily routine, that everything would be okay.”
Silence hung in the darkness between them.
“I expected my memory to return. Expected answers to the thousands of questions I have inside.”
“I take it you haven’t had any flashes of memory?”
She shook her head, oblivious as to whether he could see the movement in the dim light.
“Dr. Clark warned you, Sarah. He said your memories would probably come back slowly, maybe in flashes, and you should be patient. He also told you that they may not come back at all.”
“I know.” Her voice was a mere whisper on the wind.
“Can you live with that? Can you cope with the fact that your memories may never return?”
The warmth of his voice flowed over her, filled with concern and offering her waves of comfort, but still she felt lost and defeated. “I’m not sure. I don’t know how it will be if this is a permanent situation. The only thing holding me together right now is hope...hope that it will all come back, that I will remember again.”
“And if you don’t?”
The silence became heavy and oppressive, stealing her breath, causing her fingers to tremble and her toes to nervously tap against the wooden floor.
“Calm down, Sarah. You’re starting to have another panic attack. Take a couple of deep breaths. It will be all right.”
He stopped rocking, pulled his chair around to face her and moved in closer so she could see his face in the dim light.
“You’re scared.”
She nodded.
“What frightens you the most?”
She thought for a moment, and then locked her gaze with his. “I’m scared to death that I will never know who I am, who I was...” She nodded with her head toward the house. “Who they expect me to be.” She lowered her eyes. “They are good people. They have been hurt enough. What if I can’t be the person they want me to be?”
A burst of anger raged through her. “Why did this happen? What am I supposed to do with all this emptiness?” She jumped to her feet, held on to the porch rail and stared out into the night.
“Do you have any idea what it feels like to be me?” she asked. “I can’t remember the people around me, the same people who shower me with love and gaze at me with such high hopes and expectations.” She sighed deeply. “I can’t even remember me.
“I am told I was an Englisch child who was raised by an Amish grandmother and then adopted by the Lapps after her death. But what does that make me? Am I Englisch because I was born in your world? Or am I Amish because I was raised as a child in this one? I can’t remember anything about either world, so how can I answer that question?
“I am told I was a dervish of energy. Is that why I want to be busy all the time? Why I long to be outside and moving? Or is it fear and restlessness from thoughts I cannot bear that drive me?”
She paced, and Sam didn’t speak or try to stop her.
“Do I like strawberry jam? Scrambled eggs? Sausage? Can I cook? Can I sew? Do I have friends? Do I care about anybody? Am I a person who should be cared about?”
Sarah’s fears shone through her eyes.
“I was married to a man I can’t remember. There isn’t even a picture I can look at so I can try to remember his face. Married, Samuel. Partners in life, in love. I can’t remember any of it. Does Peter deserve to be forgotten? What kind of person does that make me?”
Her voice rose. She could hear the frustration and anxiety in it, but she couldn’t control it.
“I’m pregnant. I’m carrying a precious gift, a blessing. But what kind of mother will I be? How will I teach this child the ways of the world when I can’t remember ever taking the path myself? How can this child grow to love me? How can anyone love me when I don’t know me well enough to love myself?” Her voice rose an octave. “I have to remember. Everyone needs me to remember. I don’t know what I will do if I can’t.”
Sarah had to physically fight the urge to dart away, to flee into the darkness and try to outrun the fear.
Sam stood and gathered her into his arms. She nestled firmly against the warmth of his chest. The sound of his voice rumbled against her ear. She could feel the gentle breeze of his breath through her hair with each word of comfort.
The words he spoke were not important. They were comfort words. It was the strength of his embrace, the solid wall of his presence that soothed her. He offered her a safe haven to air her fears without judgment. He offered her friendship and empathy. Sarah may not be able to prevent disappointing the people who knew her in the past, but Samuel wasn’t a part of her past. He knew her only as she was now. She truly believed that God had sent him into her life to help her when she needed it most...and that thought brought her peace.
“I’m sorry.” She eased out of his embrace.
She didn’t have a chance to finish the sentence before he cupped her chin with his hand and forced her eyes to lock with his.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Sarah. You are as much a victim in all of this as anyone. Remember that.”
He brushed his fingers lightly against the path of tears on her cheek. “You can sit and wallow and feel sorry for yourself. You have the right to do that.” He smiled down at her. “Or you can look at this as God’s gift...an opportunity to be anyone you want to be.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“You tell me you don’t know if you were a
good person or bad, selfish or kind? Okay, so choose. It doesn’t matter who or what you were. None of us can change one moment of the past, no matter how much we might want to. But God has given you the present and it is a gift, isn’t it? Decide what kind of person you want to be. Will you be loving and kind to others? Will you be hardworking and helpful? Your choice, isn’t it?”
He smiled down on her. “You will be a wonderful mother because you care for your child so much, and he or she isn’t even here yet. Think about it, Sarah. You can take the journey with your child. The two of you can learn to play in the sunshine. You can both decide together whether you like the taste of turnips or prefer the taste of corn. You can read books together each night before bed. You might find that you enjoy them just as much as the child because you will be reading them for the first time.
“Who cares if you can cook? If you can’t, you can learn. Who cares if you can sew? Try it. If you can remember the stitches, wunderbaar. If not, it is only another lesson to learn. You can start your life over again, Sarah. Many people I know wish they could have that chance.”
The truth of his words washed over her, and she felt a new resolve, maybe even a little happiness blossom within. She chewed on her bottom lip. “But what of Jacob and Rebecca? What if I can’t be the person they remember?”
He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her close again.
“They loved the person you were. Now they will love the person you will grow to be.”
She smiled and allowed herself to burrow against him one more time. She closed her eyes. He felt so warm and comforting and safe.
Suddenly his body tensed. She raised her head and searched his face.
“What?”
He didn’t speak but stared hard into the darkness. The tension in his body made his formerly comforting hands tighten to steel. His grasp almost hurt as she eased out of his hold.
She turned her head and followed his gaze. A tiny ball of light shone in the distance. She squinted and tried to focus to get a better look. As she stared harder across the dark, empty fields, the light grew larger, brighter.