by Diane Burke
“Samuel?” She hurried to his side and placed a comforting hand on his back.
Sam startled at her touch. He jumped up from the rocker, dragged his forearm over his face and turned away.
“What are you doing out here? You should be resting.”
She heard the catch in his voice, witnessed the effort it took him to regain control. She waited for a moment before speaking. “Can I help?”
He drew in a deep breath. Slowly, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry. I lost control for a moment, but I’m okay now. Truly, Sarah, go inside and go to bed. You need to rest, if not for yourself, then at least for your boppli.”
He stayed in the shadows, and she couldn’t see his face.
“Are you upset with me? I’m sorry I tried to stop you...”
“This has nothing to do with you, Sarah. Now please, go inside.”
She stepped closer. So close they were both swallowed in the shadows cast by the hurricane lamp. She touched his arm. “Talk to me, Samuel. Tell me what torments you so.”
For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to answer her. When he did, his voice was gruff and harsh.
“It happened a long time ago. More than ten years now. Today stirred up those memories.” He made a gruff sound. “Like I told you before, Sarah, memories are not always good things to have.”
“Talk to me.” She ran her hand down his arm and clutched his hand. “You have been such a good friend to me. Let me be a friend to you.” She moved closer still, watching the kerosene light play across his features. “Tell me of this thing that troubles your soul.”
He stepped into the light, and she was taken aback by the terrible pain she saw in his eyes. His expression reflected his indecision about whether he was going to talk to her about it. When he finally spoke, his words tumbled out with the force of a breaking dam.
Sarah never removed her hand from his. She smiled gently, encouragingly, and listened—until she thought her heart would break under the weight of his words.
“I was seventeen when I experienced the worst day of my life. Thanks to rumspringe, most of the restrictions my daed had enforced in my life were lifted. He turned a blind eye to the radio I’d sneak into the buggy when I’d take it to town. He’d pretend he didn’t hear when I’d play music in my room and sing at the top of my lungs. When I’d had a few sips of beer that one of my Englisch friends had given me, I knew he smelled the alcohol on my breath. He scowled, his expression telling me he didn’t approve, but he kept silent.”
Sam turned his face away and stared into the darkness, but not before Sarah saw a tear trace its way down his cheek.
“But the one thing he wouldn’t budge on was my curfew.”
Sarah remained still, afraid to move, even breathe. She felt as if she was standing on the edge of a deep, dark crevice, and knew that whatever Sam was about to tell her had been buried for a very long time and had cut deep.
“I disobeyed the curfew. I didn’t want to lose face with my friends. I was afraid they might taunt me for running home to Daed.” He looked at her, and the pain she saw in his eyes seared her soul. “Friends? I can’t even tell you the name of one of those boys today. Yet on that night they were more important to me than my father...or his rules.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She wasn’t even sure why. She just knew Sam was suffering, and there was nothing she could do to help him—except stay strong and silent and listen as he spoke about this thing, maybe for the very first time.
Sam’s voice seemed wooden, his tone flat, empty. He stared off into the darkness. He might be standing here on the porch in front of her, but his spirit was gone—to another place, another time.
“It was dusk. Dark enough to trigger the streetlamps along the main street in town, but still light enough to recognize my father’s buggy. I can still remember seeing him snap the reins when he saw me standing outside the local general store with my friends. Our horse fell into a trot, and the buggy headed in my direction.
“Some of my friends recognized my father’s buggy, too. A few of the Englisch teens we were with had been drinking. They thought it was funny that my daed was out looking for me. They teased me, taunted me. When I didn’t respond, they decided it might be more fun to taunt my father. They jumped in their car, revved their engines and drove down the street toward him.”
Sarah’s heart seized. She relived today’s sound of an engine revving and the fear of watching a car swoop past their buggy. Her pulse pounded in her ears with fear as she remembered how hard Sam had fought to control the panicked horse. Suddenly present and past converged, and Sarah understood Sam’s pain.
Today’s incident had opened a portal into Sam’s past, and everything he’d experienced came flooding back. She wanted to silence him. She wanted to pull him away from what she knew would be ugly, hurtful memories. But it was too late. Sam was already standing in front of that general store, watching a car full of drunken teens descend upon his father.
“I didn’t even know those boys. They were friends of a friend. Mere acquaintances. Older than me and the boys I was with.” Sam rubbed his hand over his face. “They’d been drinking, and it affected their driving. They didn’t mean to hit him. They thought it would be fun to scare him a little. But they were driving too fast and they lost control....”
Sam’s words faded away, but it didn’t matter. Sarah was with him now, standing beside the teenage Sam as he apprehensively watched his father approach, feeling the panic when he saw the car driving too fast and too close to the buggy. She held her breath and tightened her hold on his hand. She needed him to tell her the rest—and simultaneously wished he wouldn’t.
“My father wasn’t the only passenger in the buggy that night. My maam was with him. I didn’t know it at first. I didn’t know until after the buggy shattered into a million pieces, and I found their bodies in the rubble.”
Sam looked at her. Flickers of lamplight danced across his face, but not even the shadows of the night could hide his tortured expression. “My mother was dead when I reached her. God was merciful. She died upon impact and didn’t linger or suffer. My daed...his back was broken, his legs twisted at an odd angle beneath him, his breathing shallow and difficult. I remember he stayed awake and alert for a long time. Long enough for the police to arrive. Long enough for the paramedics to confirm my mother was dead.
“He held tight to my hand, and he kept saying the same words over and over again. I heard the words but they didn’t really register...not then...not for years to come.”
Sam drew his hand out of her grasp and ran his index finger softly down her cheek. His voice fell into a whisper. “My daed kept saying, ‘I love you, son. Do not blame yourself. It was an accident.’” Sam’s eyes glistened with fresh tears. “Isn’t that the Amish way? To forgive the person who sinned against you?”
Sam stared off into space for several minutes before he spoke again, but when he did his words carried the pain and guilt of a young, frightened teenage boy who’d been unable to face his past.
“How could he do that, Sarah? Forgive? I killed my own family. Even God will never be able to forgive me.”
FOURTEEN
“Hush, Samuel, don’t say such a thing.” Sarah wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. “God knows our hearts. He can forgive us anything if we ask.” She released her hold and cupped his face with her hands. “It is a terrible thing that happened that night. Terrible. But I agree with your father. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I broke curfew.”
“Ya, just like hundreds of other teenagers trying to find their own way in this world. That’s all you did.”
“If I hadn’t broken curfew, my parents would not have been in that buggy looking for me.”
Sarah smiled tenderly at him. “Ah, Samuel, that is the hurt child inside of you speaking
now. The man who stands in front of me knows that we do not have control over other people. Everyone made their own choices that evening. Your dat to search for you. Your maam to go with him. Those boys to drink and then drive recklessly.”
She let her fingers trace a path down his cheek. “It would be prideful and foolish to think that we have power over other people, over life. Only God can claim that right, ya?”
“God?” Samuel scoffed. “Where was God that night? He allowed it. How could He permit such a terrible thing?”
“It is not our place to question God’s plan. We do not know why He allows these things or how they affect His plan for our lives.” The gentleness in Sarah’s voice soothed him. “God never promised us that bad things wouldn’t happen, Samuel. Just the opposite. The Bible tells us we will suffer many trials in this life. We only know He promises to be at our side to help us through when bad things do happen, and that somehow, in time, He makes all things work out for good.”
“How is watching the murder of my parents a good thing? What good came of their deaths?”
Sarah folded her hands in front of her and smiled softly into his face. “I don’t know. No more than I understand why Peter was killed or why my memory was erased. I don’t understand why my neighbors are being punished because I am still alive. And, ya, I know how guilt can creep up on you and make you think that everything is your fault. But aren’t you the one who told me everything that is happening now is not my fault? Did I shoot my husband? Terrorize the children in the school? Burn down my neighbors’ barns?”
“No, of course not.”
Sarah’s smiled widened. “You’re right. I am not responsible.” She waited a heartbeat to allow her logic to penetrate his pain. “And you are not responsible for the tragedy that befell your family.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Easy? Nee. Suffering through trials is never easy. Simple? Ya. Put your faith in God, Samuel. Trust Him to run the world. He’s been doing it for a very long time.”
“How did you ever get to be so smart?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
Sam laughed at her attempt at a joke, and Sarah joined in. When the moment passed, he drew her close. “Thank you.” He wrapped one of the ties of her kapp around his finger. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about that night. I thought I had dealt with it and buried it long ago. But
today...I found myself reliving everything.”
Sarah smiled up at him. “I’m glad I could be here for you.”
His expression sobered. “I’ve never had anyone be there for me.” He drew her close. His lips hovered inches above hers.
Sarah’s pulse raced like birds taking flight, and a delightful shiver danced along her spine. She held her breath in anticipation. She didn’t need to wait long.
When Sam lowered his head toward hers, he ignited feelings inside that she could no longer deny. She loved the feel of his breath as it whispered across her skin. She loved the softness and taste of his mouth as he claimed hers in a tender kiss. She loved the warmth and strength of his arms wrapped around her, holding her close, close enough that when she slid her hand along his shirt, she could feel the beating of his heart against her palm. She loved—
A bright light shone in their faces. Instinctively, they broke apart. Sarah raised a hand to shield her eyes.
“Um, sorry. I saw Mrs. Lapp come out onto the porch.” The officer lowered his flashlight. “I didn’t see you, Detective King. I thought she was alone, and when she disappeared into the shadows... Well, um, I thought I should check and make sure she was okay.”
Even in the dim light from the kerosene lamp, Sarah could see a deep red flush on Sam’s neck.
“You did the right thing, Officer.” Sam stepped forward. “But, as you can see, Mrs. Lapp is unharmed.”
The officer glanced back and forth between them. “Well, okay then.” He gestured with his flashlight over his shoulder. “I’ll just head back to the barn.” He took a few more steps away. “And please thank Jacob for us again, Mrs. Lapp. The spring nights are still pretty cool, and that heater made it real comfortable in there.”
Sarah watched him walk back to the barn. When he disappeared, she chanced a demure glance toward Sam. Suddenly, she felt awkward and unsure of herself—of them. What had really happened between them tonight? Had it been a simple kiss? An expression of gratitude when his emotions were running high? Or could it be something more? Could he be drawn to her as powerfully as she was to him? Could their friendship be turning into something deeper, something lasting, something that gave her hope for their future?
But she didn’t find the answers she sought. His expression was inscrutable. There was no lingering sign of the tears he’d shed for his family. No warmth or tenderness directed to her after their kiss.
“You should go back inside, Sarah. It’s not safe for you to be out here at night.” His dismissive tone pierced her heart. It was like he could reach inside his mind and flip a switch from being a warm, tender, attentive man—flip—to a hard, cold, professional cop. A slow, seething anger surfaced inside.
“Not safe? From whom, Samuel? The man trying to kill me?” She stared hard at him. “Or you?”
She walked away and thought her heart might break because he didn’t ask her to stay.
* * *
The wedding ceremony of Josiah and Anna had been simple but beautiful. Each time the bride smiled demurely at her groom, or the groom beamed his smile over the congregation, everyone could see how much in love the two of these young people were. At the conclusion of the ceremony, the women gathered to set up the food for the reception. The men moved the benches apart and squeezed as many tables as possible into the small space.
While setting plates and utensils on the tables, Sarah noticed Sam walk across the yard toward the barn. She smiled and greeted people as they inquired of her health and took their seats at the tables. She helped Rebecca carry out the hot casseroles and fresh bread. But her mind was elsewhere. She wondered why Sam had left the reception and what he was doing in the barn.
Sarah could barely squeeze through the cramped spaces between tables. Normally, Jacob would have erected a tent for the reception outside, but the heavy rainstorm from the other night had left puddles of mud and downed tree branches in its wake and changed those plans. Instead, the living room furniture had been pushed to the walls, and smaller chairs stored in bedrooms and outdoor tables and benches were overflowing through the great room, into the kitchen. One even rested at the entrance to a hall.
You’d think the cramped space would have put a damper on the wedding plans and upset the bride and groom, but it seemed to have a totally opposite effect. Everyone laughed and talked and rubbed elbows and laughed some more like one big happy family gathered for a holiday meal.
Then Sarah realized that that was exactly what this small community was—one large happy family. She smiled at the thought, and then gave a wistful sigh. She wondered if she would ever get her memory back. Even though everyone had been kind and helpful, she had no memory of them, no relationships with them, and she couldn’t help but continue to feel like an outsider, always watching and never truly belonging.
She was making her third trip from the kitchen into the great room when she glanced out the window and saw Sam. Now she understood why he’d left the group and gone to the barn. A smile tugged at her lips.
* * *
Sam waited while the groom pulled his wagon up to the barn entrance, and then jumped out and circled around the back to help. He removed the protective sheet he’d put on top of the table.
Josiah moved a hand lightly over the waxed-to-perfection table. “Danki, Samuel. You honored Peter’s memory with this fine work.”
Sam, embarrassed by the rare compliment, acknowledged it with a curt nod. “I hope Anna is pleased.”
“Ah, how could she not be?” He stepped back, hands on hips, and studied the table. “It is a fine piece of furniture, is it not? Simple and plain, but sturdy and attractive too, ya?” He helped Sam cover the table, and then the two men lifted it into the back of the wagon. “This table will serve us well, Samuel. As our family grows, God willing, it will be the focal point of our home for prayers, meals, conversations. Ya, this is a good table.”
They shook hands, and then both men headed back to the reception in the house.
Sam couldn’t stop thinking about the table and the words Henry had spoken. It was true. The table was sturdy, well built and would service the family for years to come.
Peter had been the carpenter. He’d carved the wood lovingly with his own hands, building a piece of furniture that would withstand a baby banging a cup against it, support children doing their homework, bring a family together with hands joined and heads bent for prayer.
Sam wondered if Peter had thought about his own family when making the table. Jacob had told him that Peter was planning to start building his own house on the property in the spring—a place he was certain God would bless with the laughter and love of many children. Sarah and Peter had endured the emotional pain of two miscarriages. Sadness tugged at Sam’s heart because Peter hadn’t seen that prayer answered.
Sam was glad he could finish the gift that Peter had made for his newlywed friends. But now there was one more thing he could do in honor of the man’s memory. He could find the man who had taken his life and threatened to end the life of his wife and unborn child. This is why he’d left his Amish ties so many years ago. To protect those unable to protect themselves. And with God’s help, he would.
“Hurry, kumm, you are letting all the cold air into the house.” Sarah laughed, braced the door open with her hands and ushered Sam into the house. “Josiah moved as quickly as a jackrabbit to get inside. You have been poking along like a turtle, and all the while I’m holding this door open for you.”