Plain Threats

by Alison Stone

  “No. I checked the barn, but I didn’t want to leave my sisters for too long. It’s unlike Mem to leave the girls without asking me to watch them. They’re only six and eight.”

  Jake turned and gazed out over the land. Sun peaked over the horizon. The promise of a beautiful new day was at odds with this horrible sense of foreboding.

  Really, she could be anywhere: the barn, the fields, or maybe she had gone out. But a tiny whisper in his brain grew louder by the second. Something’s happened to Rebecca!

  Jake clamped his jaw, not wanting to alarm the young girls. “When was the last time you saw your mother?”

  After they all came to the consensus that they hadn’t seen their mother since they had gone to bed last night, Jake told Samuel to stay inside the house with his little sisters while he went outside to look for her.

  “Maybe you missed her when you checked the barn earlier. Could she be milking a cow?”

  Katie, the older of the two girls, tilted her head and scrunched up her nose. “We don’t have a cow. Mem brings milk home from the market now. It’s easier. We have an icebox.”

  “Well, maybe she’s checking on Buttercup.”

  The younger of the two took a step forward, eager for an adventure. “Let me come with you. I like to give Buttercup carrots.”

  Jake reached out and touched the top of the young girl’s soft hair and smiled. “Later, okay.”

  Grace pouted and spun on her heels, her loose curls flying out behind her.

  “Stay here.” Jake locked gazes with Samuel. “I’ll be right back.”

  Jake jogged down the steps and toward the barn, calling Rebecca’s name. Disquiet crept into his bones and he worried he hadn’t done enough to keep Rebecca safe. He also began to wonder how he had allowed himself to become so involved with his Amish neighbors when his intent had been to learn about them, not become entangled in their lives.

  He supposed his mission was irrevocably intertwined.

  Jake wiped a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.

  Where would she have gone?

  “I’m sick of doing nothing.” Rebecca’s words from last night pinged around his brain. “I’m tired of feeling hopeless. Of not being able to keep my family together.”

  Jake knew she wouldn’t hurt herself, but the worry kept resurfacing. He thought of his own father, who drank himself to death after Jake’s mother died. Some people couldn’t see past their own grief.

  Scrubbing a hand across his face, he had an inkling she might have gone in search of the marijuana crops. He jogged toward the cornstalks. To the far corner of the lot. To where Samuel had claimed the Yoder brothers had planted the marijuana.

  Something was drawing him there.

  Still calling her name, Jake ran through the stalks, the smell of earth and dried corn filling his nose. Then, suddenly the corn ended and a different kind of plant started.

  A rock solidified in his gut. It looked as if someone had been hacking away at the plants.

  “Rebecca?” he called again, the frantic whoosh of his pulse drowning out any possible answer.

  Jake took a few more cautious steps.

  “God, help me find her,” he finally muttered, the words feeling foreign on his lips. “Rebecca, where are you?”

  As Jake pushed through the plants, he heard a soft moan.

  He stopped, his heart pounding against his chest. “Rebecca?”

  He strained to hear. The moan came again. He spun around and ran to the pile of felled marijuana plants. He found Rebecca lying there, her face covered in blood.

  In a frenzy, he tossed aside the plants and knelt down beside a battered and bloodied Rebecca.

  Gingerly, he swept her hair out of her eyes, tugging it away from the dried blood. “Can you hear me?”

  Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open. She’s not dead. There’s hope. Thank you, God.

  Jake reached down and grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” With his other hand, he reached into his back pocket. “I’m going to call an ambulance.”

  EIGHT

  A persistent tugging near Rebecca’s forehead nudged her out of the blackness. She focused all her energy on opening her eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. A strong citrusy-grass smell clogged her nose.

  Why can’t I open my eyes?

  She craned her neck and a horrible pain sliced through her head. She tried to lift her hand to touch it, but her limbs didn’t want to cooperate.

  A familiar soothing voice threaded into her subconscious. I’m here... You’re going to be okay...

  She finally pried her eyes open a sliver and the line of light made her brain explode. Instinctively, she snapped her eyes shut again and groaned.

  A warm hand squeezed hers. “Take it easy. Don’t try to move. I’ve called for an ambulance.”

  Dread squirmed its way in to keep her fear and queasiness company.

  Rebecca’s mouth grew dry. “Neh...”

  “Don’t try to talk.”

  She shook her head slowly and immediately realized her mistake. She pressed her lips together against the nausea.

  “No ambulance,” she finally whispered, her voice raspy. “No police.”

  The professor dragged his warm thumb gently across her cheek. The small gesture provided comfort. She couldn’t remember what happened. One minute she was hacking away at the marijuana plants and then...

  Closing her eyes, flashes of memory assaulted her. Standing in the field admiring the first hint of early morning sky. Turning around. A dark shadow.

  Samuel?

  Her stomach revolted at the thought of her own son striking her.

  Neh, neh. Rebecca refused to believe that.

  She covered her mouth, as if she feared his name might slip past her lips.

  “What is it?” the professor said in a soothing voice. “Do you know who did this to you?”

  “Neh. Please...” She tried to sit up again and he touched her shoulder.

  “You have to wait for the ambulance. It’s not safe to move since I don’t know if anything’s broken.”

  “Don’t you understand?” Her voice came out raspy. “You can’t call an ambulance...the sheriff will come. The plants.”

  “Your well-being is more important,” the professor said.

  “Help me get to the house so the sheriff won’t see what’s back here.” Her brain hurt with the effort of every word.

  Kneeling over her, the professor shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Anger and nausea competed for her attention.

  “I can’t risk it. I don’t know where you’re hurt.”

  Rebecca struggled to move into a seated position, and the professor seemed to capitulate by offering her a hand, steadying her. “Don’t try to stand.”

  Adrenaline surged in her veins. “Are the girls okay? Samuel?” She tried to push off the ground, but the palm of her hand sank into the earth. “I have to check on my family.”

  The professor touched her arm in a soothing gesture. “Everyone is okay. Samuel’s in the house with the girls. I told them to stay put.”

  Rebecca lifted her arm to touch her forehead, and the effort made her groan.

  “Did you see who attacked you?”

  Rebecca caught herself before she shook her poor head. “Neh.”

  “What were you doing out here?”

  She squinted up at the professor, trying to minimize the amount of light hitting her brain. “Destroying these crops.” She clawed at one of the discarded plants next to her.

  “In the middle of the night?” The protectiveness in his voice made her feel like she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Too bad the professor was an Englisher.

  In the distance she heard a siren, and panic raced through her. “You have to tell the children I’m okay. They’ll worry when they see the ambulance.”

  The professor squeezed her hand and smiled. “Are you sure?”

  “Please,�
�� she begged. “You need to warn them so they don’t worry.”

  Rebecca watched as the professor ran through the cornstalks. Desperate to get away from the marijuana crops, Rebecca struggled to her feet. The world tilted and her empty stomach heaved.

  With one hand to her forehead and the other to her belly, she moved one foot in front of the other through the tall cornstalks.

  Please help me, Lord.

  The sound of the sirens grew closer, adding to the clanging in her head. She paused and leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees. It didn’t help.

  Dizzy, she straightened and walked shakily forward. Finally, she stepped onto the hard-packed surface of her driveway. The lights on the ambulance caught her eye before her gaze landed on the professor coming out of the house.

  Tiny stars danced in her line of vision before darkness consumed her and she collapsed.

  * * *

  With a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, Jake lingered in the doorway of Rebecca’s hospital room while she slept. Her shiny brown hair, usually wound in a bun and hidden under a bonnet, was splayed on the white pillow. A white bandage covered a portion of her forehead, but her cheeks had regained some of their color and her expression was peaceful.

  Something inside him shifted.

  He stepped into the room, and she must have sensed him because her eyes fluttered open. A small smile curved her pink lips.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He took a step closer, letting his fingers brush against the cotton blanket on the bed. “How are you?” he asked, his voice low. Something about hospitals made him feel melancholy. Perhaps it had to do with watching his father waste away from liver failure in one.

  “I’ve been better.”

  Yellow-greenish bruising blossomed under each eye. Anger burned inside him. She could have been killed.

  Suddenly aware of the flowers he was holding, he offered them to her. “For you.”

  Rebecca took the bouquet and brushed it under her nose. A faint smile graced her lips. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Let me find something to put them in.” He held up his finger, ran out to the nurses’ station and came back with a pitcher. He filled it with water from the bathroom, then plunked the flowers in it, plastic wrap and all.

  A smile lit Rebecca’s eyes. “Thank you.” She lifted her hand and gingerly touched the dressing on her forehead. “The nurse told me Katie and Grace are okay.” There was a question in her tone. “Did you take them to my brother’s house?”

  “Actually,” Jake said, sitting down in the pleather chair next to her bed, “Katie and Grace are with Samuel in the waiting room at the end of the hall. The nurse said they could stop in briefly if you felt up to a few visitors.”

  “I do.” She struggled to push herself up with her elbows and winced. She lay back down. “It would make me feel better to see for myself that they’re okay.”

  Jake rested his elbows on the edge of her bed and his fingers lingered inches from the tubes running into the back of her hand. “I’ll get them in a minute, but first we need to talk.”

  She slowly turned her head on the pillow to fully face him and lifted her eyebrows as if to say, “What?”

  “You’re going to have to make a statement to the sheriff.”

  Rebecca pressed her lips together but still didn’t say anything.

  “Someone tried to kill you.”

  She stared at him, her eyes lacking both shock and fear.

  “Samuel is also going to have to talk to the sheriff. The events this morning won’t allow me to have you resolve this through your Amish neighbors. Law enforcement must be involved.”

  Rebecca tried again to sit up by pushing her elbows under her, but she collapsed back on the mattress. “You don’t have the authority to tell me anything. This is my life. My family.”

  The sudden harshness of her words sliced through him. Confused by her anger, he dared touch the back of her hand, cautious of the tubes. “I need to make sure you’re safe.”

  “I imagine this would also make a great research paper for you. A nice—what do they call it?—a feather in your cap? Lots of publicity for you. Professor Burke stumbles upon drugs on an Amish widow’s farm.” She scrunched up her nose. “Imagine when they connect this all to Willard, the Amish murderer.”

  Rebecca closed her eyes and pulled her hands over her midsection in a protective gesture.

  “I’m sorry. The sheriff needs to talk to you.”

  A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

  Jake stood, pushing back the chair, its wooden legs dragging across the worn linoleum. He tamped down the conflicting emotions welling inside him.

  Did she really think that little of him? That he’d use this information for a research paper?

  “If it’s okay with you, I’ll bring in the kids now.”

  Without saying a word, Rebecca nodded.

  * * *

  Katie’s chatter floated down the hall to Rebecca. She touched her forehead and wished she could somehow hide her injury. She didn’t want to worry the girls.

  Rebecca fumbled with the remote the nurse had showed her and she moved the head of the bed up a few more inches. Squaring her shoulders, she hoped she appeared stronger than she felt.

  The professor appeared in the doorway, then stepped aside to allow her children to enter the room before him. Samuel held his little sisters’ hands. He’s such a good big brother. Rebecca quickly swiped at a tear, frustrated with how close to the surface her emotions lurked. The reason she had lashed out at the professor.

  “Hi, Mem,” Samuel said sheepishly. Rebecca forced a smile, but suddenly the memory of the dark shadow raising his arm to slam something down on her head came to mind.

  An oppressive weight squeezed her lungs and she turned to stare out the window. Soft white clouds floated across the pale blue fall sky. She wanted nothing more than to go home and forget about this mess.

  Neh, not her Samuel. He wouldn’t have hurt her. Not this young man who was protectively ushering his little sisters into her hospital room with whispered words of reassurance. She had heard him when they entered the door: “Mem’s okay. She’ll be better and home soon.”

  Grace broke free from her big brother’s grasp and ran over to the bed. “Mem!” She threw herself down on the bed and buried her face in Rebecca’s knees.

  Katie, the quieter of the two, wandered over to stand next to her mother and sister.

  “I’m okay, girls. I should be home soon. Is everything okay?”

  Grace nodded slowly.

  Then Rebecca turned to Samuel, who stood at the end of the bed. “Are you okay with the girls?” She trusted him, she truly did.

  He nodded, the look in his eyes hard to read under the shadow of his straw hat.

  Muffled voices sounded in the hallway outside her door. The sheriff strolled in, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth. He touched a black unit on his shoulder and the voices stopped.

  “Didn’t know you had a full house.” The sheriff took a step back. “I could come back later.”

  Rebecca gently brushed her hand across Grace’s hair and the little girl lifted her head. Rebecca forced a smile that hurt the inside of her head. “Go with your big brother to the waiting room. Sheriff Maxwell wants to talk to me.” She looked up and locked gazes with Samuel.

  He bowed his head and reached for Katie’s hand, then Grace’s.

  “There are too many people in this room,” a nurse said as she strode in. She stopped short upon seeing the sheriff. Then she hiked her chin and glared pointedly at each of the offenders. “I’m sorry, Sheriff Maxwell, but Mrs. Fisher needs to rest. She has a concussion.”

  “I’ll just be a minute.”

  “A minute.” The nurse turned and left the room.

  Rebecca’s family said their goodbyes, and Samuel ushered the two girls out, their Amish dresses and bonnets out of place against the sterility of the modern hospital room.

  The professor to
uched Rebecca’s arm. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  “I’d like you to stay.”

  The sheriff nodded in assent.

  “I have a few questions,” Sheriff Maxwell said.

  Samuel slowed up at the door with his sisters. “Samuel, please take your sisters to the waiting room.” Her daughters didn’t need to hear this.

  “What do you know about the marijuana crops growing on your land?”

  Something about the way the sheriff said your land unnerved Rebecca. She folded over the corner of the blanket and ran her pinched fingers along its edge. “I hired Uri and Jonas Yoder to help on the farm. Yesterday, Samuel told us he’d discovered they had been using our land to grow these horrible plants.”

  The sheriff scratched his jaw. “The Yoder brothers tell me your son was the one who planted the marijuana. They claim they knew nothing about the plants since they were tucked in a back corner of your land.”

  Rebecca smoothed the folded edge of the blanket. The dull pain in her head grew to an unbearable thump. “I... They...” She crossed her arms over her middle. “Last night we went to the Yoders’ house and the boys claimed my son was involved, but they were using that as an excuse.”

  The sheriff wrapped his hand around the metal bar of the footboard. “Rebecca you’ve had a few rough years.”

  She felt her mouth grow dry.

  “Have you considered that Samuel might be responsible?” he continued.

  She blinked slowly, sensing the professor’s watchful gaze. Did everyone think she lacked good judgment? She had, after all, married a murderer.

  Rebecca couldn’t squeeze out any words, fearing her emotions would get the best of her.

  “Samuel’s a good kid,” the professor said. Relief swept over her. Yes, yes he is.

  “I don’t think he’d get mixed up with drugs,” the professor continued. “From my experience, I’ve had no indication he’s been involved with the drugs in Apple Creek.”

  “What are your impressions of Uri and Jonas Yoder?” The sheriff tapped his fingers on his thigh.

  The professor stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “I had no indication that they were involved with drugs either. But my time with any of the Amish youth is limited.”