by Leslie Gould
Judah’s face reddened. “I understand your concern, but I don’t think George understands we’re nonresistant—and others we meet on the road most likely wouldn’t either. Not that we would engage in any violence, but they wouldn’t know that, and perhaps they would be deterred by a group. I believe there’s strength in numbers.”
“But you were fine traveling alone?”
“I joined other groups of men,” Judah said. “But I wouldn’t want to risk that, traveling with women.”
“Could we leave sooner that you planned?” Emma asked. That way she could be back in time to go to Pennsylvania.
Judah shook his head. “I don’t think so. The roads and trails that weren’t blocked by snow were covered with water or mud as I traveled. It was rough going and would be hard with the children. I had to ford flooded creeks several times. We need to let the roads dry out more.”
Emma crossed her arms. “You should speak with Isaac about it.”
Judah nodded. “I’ll do that, but can you go see Mathilde today and ask her what she thinks of my plan?”
Emma nodded. “I’ll take them some food later.”
The door swung open, and a voice barked, “Judah. What are you doing here?”
“I came to speak with you,” he said, turning toward Phillip. “About spring planting. Walter and I wondered if you need any help.”
“Is that really why you’re here?” Phillip harrumphed. “I’m guessing you’re up to something.”
Judah ignored him. “Do you need our help?”
“No, I don’t believe I do. Isaac will be around, and then we’ll both go up and help Dat.”
Judah stepped outside. “Let us know if you change your mind. Mach’s gut.”
Isaac hadn’t come inside, so Emma did her best to keep Phillip engaged in conversation so Judah would have enough time to broach traveling to Vincennes with Isaac.
“Ready for your coffee?” she asked, pouring him a cup that was strong and bitter, just as he liked it. “Do you think we’re done with winter?”
“I hope so. We need to get the planting done as soon as possible.” Phillip stood. “What’s taking Isaac so long? I’m starved.”
“I’ll go check on him,” Emma said. “Drink your coffee.”
She headed out the front door into the chilly morning. The sun was rising over the eastern horizon in a vibrant splash of purple and pink. Judah and Isaac stood in the barn doorway with their backs toward the cabin, deep in conversation.
Emma walked halfway to the barn and said, “Isaac.” She motioned toward the cabin.
“Just a minute.”
She waited for him, facing the cabin in case Phillip came out. After another minute, Judah waved good-bye to Emma, climbed on his horse, and rode away.
“We need to talk,” Isaac whispered as they walked briskly toward the cabin. “How about if I go with you to see Mathilde today?”
“Only if we can sneak away without Phillip getting suspicious,” Emma answered, her heart sinking. How was she going to tell him she couldn’t go to Vincennes?
How was she going to tell Mathilde?
AFTER THEIR NOON meal, Phillip announced that he was taking the wagon to buy seed. “I’ll be back by supper time.”
Emma said that she planned to check on the O’Brien family.
“Don’t overdo it,” Phillip said. “It won’t do any of us any good for you to be ill again.”
“I won’t,” Emma said.
“And don’t take them any food.”
“I’ll only take some of the bread I baked this morning.”
Once Phillip and the wagon were out of sight, Emma sent Isaac out to saddle the horses and then gathered up a loaf of bread, a couple of leftover baked potatoes, some venison jerky, and a few apples from the cellar for Mathilde and the children. She also grabbed a loaf of bread for the O’Briens.
She met Isaac outside. “Let’s go see Mathilde first. But I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
“Mamm knows this and so does Phillip, although he doesn’t know the details. I plan to return to Pennsylvania at the beginning of April—”
“No,” Isaac said. “You can’t.”
A wave of sadness swept through her. Isaac was so dear to her. Not seeing Mamm and Dat and Phillip was one thing, but never seeing Isaac? In the moment, it felt nearly unbearable. She spoke slowly. “There are two families in Newbury Township who are returning. They said I could go with them.”
“Are you going to marry Abel?”
Emma nodded as she put the food in her saddlebag.
“Why would you do that?”
“Why?” She spread her arms wide. “I want to go back home.”
“But it won’t be home—your family won’t be there.”
She didn’t say it was there, buried in the cemetery plot. Instead she said, “Maybe you’ll all come back too, within a few years.”
Isaac shook his head. “I’m never going back. I like it here. And if you go, you’ll never see me again.”
Tears threatened her eyes. “Don’t say that.”
“What’s so bad about Indiana? Why don’t you want to stay?”
“What’s so bad? The dirt and dust and mud. These cabins that aren’t homes. The hard winter. How far apart everyone is. The bears and panthers sneaking through the forests. The way Mathilde has been treated. The things Eli said about her and other Native people.”
“Ignore Eli. You don’t need to have anything to do with him,” Isaac said. “Come with Judah and me to take Mathilde to Vincennes. She wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone else.”
“And miss my chance to go home?”
Isaac sighed. “I’ll take you, if you still want to go, after we get back.”
“You said you’d never go back.”
“I will for you.”
“Dat won’t let you,” Emma said. “He’ll need you to help farm, both places.”
“Then I’ll find someone else to take you. Maybe someone will be going in May or June. Or next spring.”
“Abel said he’d wait a year for me.” Emma didn’t want to delay her trip any longer.
“Write to him,” Isaac said.
She owed him a letter, but that wouldn’t be what he expected to hear, not after she’d written previously about returning in April. “Let’s go see Mathilde and then decide.”
Isaac helped Emma mount Red, and then he climbed on his horse and led the way to the creek and then across it.
A few minutes later, they crawled through the thicket to the wigwam. Mathilde and the children both sat at the entrance, in the sunshine.
As Emma approached, Mathilde reached for her hand.
“I’m here,” Emma said.
“Are you better?” Mathilde asked.
“Much.”
Mathilde shifted her eyes to Isaac. “Is Judah back?”
“Jah.” Isaac kneeled down beside her, and Baptiste inched closer to him. “A priest at the mission in Vincennes said you should go there. That there’s a group going to Kansas in a few weeks.”
Mathilde’s eyes grew wide. “Merci, Seigneur,” she whispered. Then she turned to Emma. “You’ll go with me to Vincennes, oui?” Emma glanced at Isaac.
He said, “Judah and I will go.”
“Do you trust Judah?” Emma turned toward Mathilde.
Mathilde shrugged. “At this point, do I have a choice?” She turned to Emma. “I will go, but only if you’ll come too. I can’t make the trip on my own, with the children. I need your help.”
CHAPTER 26
Savannah
I’d listened with my eyes closed, trying to ease my headache. When Jane finished, Mammi whispered, “She may have slept through the whole thing.”
“No.” I opened my eyes. “Emma has to decide whether to go back to Pennsylvania or go to Vincennes with Mathilde.”
Jane smiled. “You were listening.”
“Absolutely.”
Uncle Seth’s voice boome
d from the chair by the door. “So was I. Fascinating.” He stood up and glanced at his watch. “But we’d better get going, ladies. More snow is on the way.”
“Yes, you should go,” I said. “ASAP. I don’t want the three of you out in this weather.”
Jane and Mammi slipped into their coats and tied their bonnets over their Kappa. Then Mammi stepped to the side of my bed. “We have some good news.”
“Oh?”
“Tommy is out on bail.”
“Wow. Who paid it?”
“He’d put Wanda on his bank account years ago, for when she needed a little extra money now and then,” Mammi said, “so she was able to access the money for him.”
I was surprised at that. “Any news on the charges?”
Mammi nodded. “The kidnapping one has been dropped.”
“That’s great.”
She nodded. “The county sheriff took a look at the evidence and believed the deputy jumped to conclusions, which is why bail was granted. However, the drug charges still stand.”
“Well, that’s better than nothing. Are there restrictions?” I wondered if he might be able to drive Mason to Las Vegas instead of having a caseworker escort the little boy there.
“Because Wanda paid cash, he can travel within a one-hundred-mile radius of Nappanee but no farther—as long as he shows up at his next court date,” Jane said.
“His lawyer made those arrangements because he works in construction and it’s winter,” Mammi explained. “Obviously he won’t be going back to Las Vegas anytime soon and will need to find another job here. The court makes those sorts of allowances, depending on the situation.”
That sounded better than it could have.
“Even though the kidnapping charges have been dropped,” Jane continued, “we still think Miriam might be in danger.”
“I agree,” I said. “We need to find her. If anything, Emma and Mathilde’s story makes me want to search for her even more.”
Jane patted my arm. “Bless you,” she said, “but you’re in no shape to go looking for her. I’ll get in touch with Tommy and see if there’s anything I can do to help find Miriam.”
I sighed. I wasn’t sure what she could do, but still I said, “That’s good of you. Hopefully I’ll get out soon, perhaps this afternoon, and then I can help too.”
“Should we wait to take you home?” Uncle Seth asked.
I shook my head. “There’s no guarantee I’ll get out today. I want the three of you to get home as soon as possible.”
“But who will take you home?” he asked.
For a moment, I panicked. But then a sense of peace came over me. God had been with me through every step of the accident. I needed to trust Him to see to this detail as well.
There was another rustling at the curtain. For a moment, I hoped it was Tommy. He was out on bail. He could have come to see me.
“Baby.” It wasn’t Tommy—it was Dad.
Tears flooded my eyes. After not returning to Indiana for thirty years, he was here. For me.
He made a beeline to the bed, as if he hadn’t seen the others in the room at all, and wrapped his strong arms around me as I began to cry.
I CONTINUED TO weep as he held me, as I buried my head in the fleece collar of his suede coat, breathing in its leathery scent. “It’s okay, baby,” he said over and over. “It’s okay.”
Finally, after several raggedy breaths, I was able to talk. “You came.”
He nodded, his brown eyes filled with compassion. “I couldn’t bear not to,” he said. “I was so worried about you. Joy and Karlie are here too.” He released me and then said, “Hold on a minute. There’s another lady I need to hug.”
As he stood, Mammi stepped to his side. In a very non-Amish way, he wrapped her up in a hug and lifted her off her feet. She burst into tears, which alarmed me. I’d never seen Mammi cry before.
“Jimmy,” she said. “You finally came home.”
Now he was crying too. “I should have come home years ago and brought Savannah’s mother with me.”
“And I should have gone out to California,” Mammi said.
“Well.” Jane stepped forward. “Jimmy is here now. That’s what counts.”
“And Joy and Karlie are in the waiting room,” he said. “Hold on. I’ll go get them.”
A minute later, I watched as Dad introduced his wife and daughter to Mammi, Uncle Seth, and Jane. Joy greeted all of them, then found her way to my bedside. “We’ve been so worried about you.”
Karlie stayed back, but I motioned to her. “I’m okay, really. I know all of these machines and sounds are unsettling, but if you want to come closer, you may.”
She stepped to her mother’s side and gave me a shy smile and then said, “Hi, Savannah” in her sweet six-year-old voice. She was my baby sister. All those years I longed for a sibling, and then, when I finally had one, I hadn’t embraced her as I should have.
I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for coming all this way to see me.”
Karlie looked up at her mother and then back at me. She smiled broadly, showing the gap in her mouth where she’d lost both of her front teeth. And then she hugged me gently.
A few minutes later, Uncle Seth interrupted the chatter and said, “We really should get going.” He looked at Mammi. “Dorothy, do you want to ride with Jimmy?” He turned toward Dad. “I’m assuming they’re staying at the farm.”
“We don’t want to impose,” Joy said.
“Of course you’re staying with me,” Mammi said. “But, Seth, I’ll ride with you and give Jimmy and Savannah a little more time together. Could we stop at the grocery store once we get to town?”
Uncle Seth rattled his keys. “Of course.”
“No, Mamm,” Dad said. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“Listen.” She put her hand on her hip. “I’ve waited thirty years for you to come home. I’ll go to whatever trouble I want.”
Dad laughed. “You’re as spunky as ever.”
“She’s worse,” Uncle Seth whispered loudly.
Once they left, Dad sat down in the chair beside my bed. “What did the doctors say?”
“I have a broken bone in my ankle. And a concussion. I’m still waiting for the results of the CT scan.”
“When will you get out?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe this afternoon, but maybe not until tomorrow. I can let you know.”
Karlie tugged a few times on Joy’s sweater, whispering in Joy’s ear once she bent down to her level. Standing back up, Joy cleared her throat and then said, “Karlie and I are going to go find a restroom.”
After they left, Dad blinked his eyes rapidly, as if he was fighting back tears. When he spoke, his voice was deep and raw. “I meant what I said to your Mammi. I should have come back to visit. With you, along with your mom. It’s one of my many regrets.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “We all have regrets.”
“And I should have been more of a father to you after your mom died.” He leaned closer to me. “I was on my own by the time I was seventeen, but that didn’t mean you should have been forced to take care of yourself like you did.”
“I left on my own accord,” I said.
“But I was emotionally distant with you.” I guessed he’d learned that term from Joy. “Like I was with your mom at times.” He met my eyes. “Can you forgive me?”
“Jah,” I said. “I know you were grieving. I know you were hurting.”
“We both were,” he said. “But I’m going to try to do better, I promise. I hope it’s not too late.”
“It’s not.” I knew we’d have to work to move forward. But if we were both willing, I was sure we could.
I thought of Emma and her relationship with her mother. They were two very different people. So were Dad and I, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t mend our relationship and, with some understanding, grow closer.
It was never too late.
AS WONDERFUL AS it was to ha
ve my dad with me, I felt anxious thinking about all of them driving back to Nappanee. The sooner they left, the better. “You should go get Joy and Karlie and get on the road,” I said. “More snow is predicted.”
An hour after they’d left, the doctor finally came in. First, she apologized for taking so long to make her rounds. “It’s been a crazy day,” she said. “We’ve had quite a few emergencies. Your CT scan looks good, but I want to keep you under observation one more night. I’ll check in tomorrow morning, and then we’ll get you a boot and pain meds from the pharmacy before you’re discharged. Limit your screen time as much as possible for the next week. Spend as much time in a dark room as possible, and make a follow-up appointment with your GP.”
I nodded. Part of me was disappointed to have to spend another night, but on the other hand, I felt exhausted.
I slept restlessly and awoke groggy and in horrible pain. After my morning pain meds, I felt as though I could rally and go back to Mammi’s. But it wasn’t until midmorning that the doctor finally came in, checked me one more time, and then said I could be released. Of course, the discharge process would take a while. They weren’t ready to wheel me to the front door yet.
I needed a ride back to Nappanee. I thought about texting Joy and asking her to send Dad back, but the thought of him with Mammi stopped me. I wanted them to have as much time as possible.
I’d been willing to trust God the day before for a ride. Was I still? I decided to wait until I was closer to actually being discharged to figure out what to do.
An hour later, as I started to compose a text to Joy, a text came through from Tommy. Hey, are you up for a visit? We want to see you.
I texted back. Who’s we?
Jane and me.
I turned my head toward the ceiling and smiled as a shiver shot down my spine. Then I texted, Where are you?
Near the hospital. Getting coffee.
May I call you?
Sure.
When he answered, I said hello and then asked, “What are you doing up this way?”
“Jane convinced me to go to Chicago to try to find Miriam.”
“Any luck?”
“No,” he said. “Jane’s not ready to give up, though.”
I appreciated her taking up the cause while I was out of commission.