Twelve
Abby waited at her usual table in the visitation room. Her thirty-minute visit would begin as soon as her guest walked through the doorway. But no matter how she stared at the metal door, no loved one for her appeared. Her new cellmate, Rachelle, a young woman with blond hair and crooked teeth, was seated nearby, chatting away with her boyfriend. She had been arrested for shoplifting for the second time and would spend sixty days here before being allowed to go home. The girl explained that if her ex-husband would pay the back child support he owed, she wouldn’t be forced to steal the new clothes and video games her kids needed. Abby chose not to mention that video games weren’t necessities of life, and neither was new clothing. Even though shoplifting broke the Eighth Commandment, perhaps Rachelle wouldn’t appreciate advice from a person charged with two felonies, including drug possession.
Each time the door swung open Abby’s heart skipped a beat. How she longed to see her ehemann. She had begged for understanding in her last letter but received no reply in return. Does he still love me? Because she had refused the judge’s offer of awaiting the trial at home, she wondered if Daniel’s heart had hardened during the past week.
With the sound of a scraping door, Abby glanced up to find her wait for answers would soon be over. Daniel Graber entered the common room and strode toward her table. Then, with a breath-stealing rush, she saw he held the hands of her two kinner. Laura and Jake let go of his hands and ran toward her wearing bright smiles and their Sunday best.
“Mamm!” they chimed in unison and flew into her arms.
She hadn’t expected this. She wasn’t prepared to feel their arms around her neck or smell their sweet baby-fine hair. And she certainly wasn’t ready to answer their questions.
“They can only stay a few minutes,” said Daniel, his expression somber. “Then they will sit with Catherine in the hallway while you and I talk.”
While her face lay buried against Laura’s neck, Abby asked, “My sister is here? Let her come in too. There are more chairs, and I have so much to thank her for.” She hugged Jake until he squirmed in protest.
“She can’t, Abby. There are limitations. This isn’t a quilting bee, where it’s the more, the merrier.”
He didn’t raise his voice, yet she heard the bitterness in his soft words. “Yes, of course,” she said, keeping her focus on the children. Has Jake grown taller during the past weeks? Is Laura thinner? Hasn’t she been eating properly? For five minutes, however, she asked no questions. Instead she listened to jumbled tales of spilled ice cream, swimming lessons in the neighbor’s pond, loose teeth, and burnt cupcakes. Abby tried to divide her attention equally as both clamored to fill in the details of their lives…lives she was missing.
All too soon their visit was over. “All right, that’s enough. Laura, take your bruder’s hand and go back out to your aunt.”
Abby clung tightly to her children until Daniel pulled them from her grasp. Slumping into her chair, she forced air into her lungs with deep, hard breaths to regain control. They waved their little hands until Daniel nudged them through the doorway. “Danki for bringing them to see me,” she said once he sat down opposite her.
“I thought seeing your kinner might do you some good—and maybe bring you to your senses.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m not sure if it helps me forebear or makes things worse.” She felt her throat turn dry and raw. “It’s good to see you, Daniel. I know it’s a long drive on busy roads to come here.” She reached for his hand. It felt limp against her palm, but at least he didn’t pull back from her.
“It’s not that far. I left early this morning. Good thing your lawyer called me on your cell phone or I wouldn’t have known what to bring.” He clucked his tongue. “I had to find the kinner’s birth certificates or they wouldn’t have been allowed to see you. I had to prove they were my children. What did they think? That I would pick up just anybody’s kids along the route to bring for a jail visit?” His expression reflected utter confusion.
Abby understood his frustration. So many of the English ways were confusing, but dwelling on them wouldn’t help. “Guess who came to visit me?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I would expect your attorney.”
“Besides him.” When Daniel offered no second guess, she continued. “Dr. Weller. I had added him to my initial list on a lark, never thinking he would really come.”
Daniel shrugged. “If he would have shown up that night, then you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
Abby gripped her trousers beneath the table. “It wasn’t his fault. He had an emergency to attend to that night.”
“Why did he come see you?”
“To tell me that nothing could have saved Mrs. Fisher, and that I did nothing to harm her. He came to set my mind at ease.”
Daniel rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And did he succeed? Is your mind at ease, Abigail? Do you feel better knowing that you’re likely going to prison for helping a woman who would have died anyway?”
“I’m glad I didn’t make matters worse.” Her shirt began to stick to her back. “What would you have had me do? Sit there and do nothing while she bled to death?”
“I think you should have called an ambulance before you left our house, despite what Nathan Fisher said. Then this mess would have fallen to the paramedics instead of you.”
She had often wished the very same thing. “What I chose to do is in the past, and God’s will prevailed with Ruth Fisher.”
He leaned across the scarred tabletop. “You’re right. Nothing can be solved by rehashing the past, but you need to start thinking about the present.” He pulled his hand from hers and grasped her sleeve. “Your children need you. Your sister works hard, but she’s not you. They need their mamm.” Silence spun out between them while the other groups talked quietly. “I need you, Abby. Come home to us. Let’s put this behind us, at least until your trial. You don’t belong here with these other people.”
She scanned the group of inmates and visitors. Some were laughing, some teary eyed, while others appeared as relaxed as though chitchatting over pie in their kitchens. Were these women any different from her? As time wore on, she didn’t think so.
“Apparently, I do belong here. The judge will only release me if I ruin another’s reputation. She will lose her license, Daniel, and may face jail herself. That’s not fair.”
“Not fair? That nurse had no business giving that syringe to you. She should lose her license. You weren’t trained to give injections.”
“I watched her do it so many times.” She rubbed the back of her knuckles.
“I watched the vet deliver a foal by cesarean section a couple times, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to try that myself.”
“Giving up her name won’t affect the outcome of my case. My trial will be set within a couple months. My lawyer won’t try to delay it for any reason.”
His complexion darkened. “Your loyalty rests with an English woman you used to work with? A nurse who has already retired? What does she care about her license anyway?”
“She had planned to fill in at the birthing center when they are short on staff. Besides, the court will go harder on her than me because she’s a registered nurse.”
Daniel’s head reared back. “Have you given no thought to your reputation in the community? And what position this has placed your daed in? What if the district decides to shun you? What will that do to your children? Doesn’t my opinion as your ehemann count for anything?”
Abby didn’t meet his gaze. She couldn’t look him in the eye without breaking down. Truth was, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about the Amish community or her father. She had blocked them out to stay strong, but her avoidance wasn’t fair to Daniel. “I shall deal with the elders in due time. My daed has not visited me, nor has any Amish person other than you.”
He slicked a leathery hand through his hair, which had become more peppered with gray. “Do you not love me anymore, fraa? Do you no longer respect me or my opinions? Are you not willing to honor the vows you took before God?” His voice grew harsher with each subsequent question.
Abby couldn’t hold back her tears. They ran down her cheeks and dropped onto her drab green shirt. “I still love you, Daniel, with my whole heart. I’m the one who’s no longer worthy of respect. Forgive my weakness and indecision. I long to be restored to my family…to come home.”
“Your thirty minutes are up, Mr. Graber,” a guard called from the doorway.
Abby flinched, first from the interruption and then from Daniel’s expression. “Titus chapter three instructs believers to submit to the government and its officers. If you want to come home so badly, then do the right thing.” He glanced at the guard. “I need to be on my way, but I’ll return as soon as possible.”
For one brief moment, their gazes locked and she saw the heart of the man who had picked her wildflowers in spring meadows, thrown pebbles at her bedroom window when she was sick with the flu, and cried at the births of their children. Then he put on his hat and strode from the room with a stiff-legged gait. He didn’t look back.
Abby shuffled to the other door across the room. After a short tap, she was taken back to her cell. Her stomach churned with hollow emptiness while her eyes couldn’t seem to focus. She stretched out on her bunk and closed her eyes. The solitude didn’t last for long. Her young cellmate flounced into the tiny room within ten minutes.
“Hi, Abby. Got a headache?” asked Rachelle.
“Jah, I guess I should have eaten some lunch.”
Rachelle emitted a snort. “Yeah, right. My old man gives me a headache too, as well as in another part of the body.” She stepped onto the bed frame and swung up to the top bunk. “I saw your old man giving you grief during visitation.”
“That wasn’t my father,” Abby corrected. “Daniel is my husband.”
“Both breeds of men have been known to wreak havoc wherever they go. You need to stand up for yourself. He doesn’t understand what it’s like in here. This ain’t exactly a day spa.”
Abby rubbed her eyelids with her fingertips, wishing the woman had chosen TV over female bonding. She had only a vague idea what a day spa was, but she didn’t want an explanation. “Daniel only wants me to put the needs of my family first.” She struggled to a sitting position. “To mind him the way I promised I would.”
“Mind him?” Rachelle squawked like a crow. “Or what, you’ll get a spanking?” She shifted onto her belly so she could hang over the edge and peer at Abby.
“It’s part of the marital vows.”
“Not in most weddings anymore,” said Rachelle, shaking her head. “I realize you drive a horse and buggy and wear old-fashioned clothes, and that’s all well and good. I respect that, but obeying somebody for no reason other than because they are male has got to go. You must stand on your own two feet, even if they are wearing high-top shoes.” She grinned before pulling back to a prone position, restoring Abby’s semblance of privacy.
And it was a good thing, because her tears returned with a vengeance. Abby pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from screaming. Her cellmate was yet another person telling her how to think or feel or act.
This Englischer, as well-meaning as she might be, couldn’t imagine what her world was like. And though she’d been gone barely a month, Abby was having difficulty remembering the familiar details that had sustained her for years.
Catherine Yost had known better moods than the one she was in. Yesterday she had traveled over bumpy roads to downtown Wooster and never saw her sister. She would have appreciated five minutes even if Daniel had wanted the lion’s share of the time. Seeing that Abby was thriving would have eased her mind. While they were young, her sister never ate properly if she was upset. Hopefully, Abby hadn’t wasted down to skin and bones with her current circumstances.
During the drive home, Daniel had answered her questions with grunts, sighs, and one-word responses. He had said only that Abby looked well but wasn’t listening to reason. “You would do well not to become as stubborn and willful as your schwester,” had been his final words on the subject. Jake and Laura, buoyed by their brief visit, received no more information about their mamm than she did.
Daniel Graber set his jaw so tight, a nervous tick in his cheek appeared. And he had clenched the reins as though expecting wild mustangs to suddenly bolt for freedom. The children soon grew tired and dozed off in the backseat, so Catherine stared at the passing scenery with no desire to irritate a crabby man. She’d slept fitfully last night, dreaming of building snowmen with Abby on crisp winter days and then drinking cups of cocoa by the woodstove while their socks and gloves dried.
This morning at breakfast, her brother-in-law’s mood hadn’t improved. He remained cordial but silent as he wolfed down oatmeal and toast like a starving stray dog. She might not have minded a few complaints about burnt bread or too much maple syrup in the oats, but Daniel was a troubled man with no relief for his woes in sight.
Her disposition was in for a treat, however. After she fed the children and fixed a plate for Isaiah, she found him already on the porch. Two shirt buttons were open, his sleeves had been rolled to the elbow, and his damp hair again sported no hat. But the quiet man was wearing a smile as he waited at the table, fork and knife in hand.
She regretted not spraying on a little body mist, a birthday gift from Abigail. “Good morning, Isaiah,” she mouthed, setting down his food.
“Gut morn!” He nodded and pulled the plate and bowl closer.
Catherine perched on the edge of the bench. For some reason, watching him eat fascinated her, despite the fact that he did so same as everyone else. Midway through his meal he gestured with his fork toward the porch steps. Four pails had been lined up by size—two large and two small.
“Buckets,” she said, stating the obvious. She walked over to look into the first. A thin layer of blackberries, plump and juicy, lined the bottom. “Yummy,” she declared before the first ripe berry passed her lips. She didn’t speak again until she had consumed half the contents. “I love blackberries,” she mouthed, returning to the table. “They’re my favorite fruit.” He might not have been able to read lips well, but her licking each fingertip managed to convey the message.
When Isaiah finished breakfast, he gazed at her with a crooked grin. “Pick today,” he stated. Twin dimples gave away his enthusiasm.
Catherine glanced into the empty pail and back at the other three. “You want to pick berries today with Laura and Jake and me?” She had difficulty reducing verbiage, even when she understood his ideas.
Isaiah downed his coffee in two swallows and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Jah. You, Cat, Lorr, and Jake pick.” He peered from under his dark lashes. His eyes could have drilled holes through her if she hadn’t broken the connection.
The way he looked at her…it is the look that passes between lovers, between those who are courting and will someday marry. Catherine shivered, even though no breeze stirred the wind chimes overhead. She held up an index finger, made a swishing motion over his empty plate and bowl, and then fled inside with cheeks ablaze. What was happening here? Wasn’t she supposed to be improving his communication skills? Bringing the man out of his reclusion to enjoy the camaraderie of family and friends? Daniel had long since left for his chores, yet nevertheless she kept glancing over her shoulder while she washed the breakfast dishes. She knew for certain he wouldn’t like the way Isaiah looked at her.
Drying her hands, Catherine dismissed the notion. No doubt she was imagining things. How many times had she misinterpreted a simple act of kindness or a sidelong glance during a preaching service that had been intended for another?
At twenty-three I might be older but no wiser, she thought. “Laura, Jake, where are you? Let’s go berry picking.”
The children bounded into the kitchen at speeds that belied their short legs. “Blackberries? Is it that time?” Laura jumped up and down. “Mamm always takes us to the back pasture fence. Then we make blackberry pie and blackberry pancakes. And she stirs some into our milk too.”
Catherine didn’t think she would appreciate anything floating in her milk, but Laura’s excitement knew no bounds. It only increased when she spotted Isaiah on the porch through the screen.
“Isaiah,” Laura shrieked and ran out the door, followed by her shadow, Jake. She threw her arms around his waist.
Catherine tucked stray hairs beneath her kapp and sprayed insect repellant on her neck instead of body mist. She slipped it into her apron pocket to use on the kinner.
“Hullo, Lorr,” said Isaiah, returning her hug shyly. He handed her a bucket.
“Ready, Cat?” he asked, meeting her eye. His words were low and guttural, yet recognizable. Considering he had never heard two barn cats howling at each other, she didn’t mind the nickname.
“Ready,” she said, picking up a pail. Catherine thought the walk to the berry patch would be a perfect opportunity to gauge Isaiah’s lip-reading abilities. She would ask short, direct questions without a companion action to see which words he recognized. Perhaps by day’s end she would have determined which vowel sounds were harder for him to discern.
Too bad Isaiah couldn’t read her mind. With his long strides and the kinner running beside him, she was soon left in the dust on the pasture lane. As Laura chattered away, oblivious to the fact no one was listening, Isaiah loped along, taking in the sights and smells of a summer day. He sniffed low-hanging dogwood branches and plucked buttercups growing along the fence line.
Catherine, however, marched as fast as she could without running. She had no wish to sweat heavily during the outing. When the threesome disappeared around a bend in the path, she grew annoyed. Am I not the nanny? Aren’t these children my responsibility to keep safe? Hadn’t Isaiah extended the invitation to include me?
She fumed until she rounded the bend and discovered her companions waiting in the shade. Each held a different colored nosegay of weeds—Jake’s were purple ajuga, Laura white yarrow, while Isaiah presented yellow buttercups he’d pulled up by the roots. With a blush, she accepted the gifts.
“Hurry, Aunt Catherine,” demanded Laura, “before the birds eat all the berries.”
Catherine held her skirt up with one hand to keep pace with the group. “Looks like we won’t have to worry about sharing,” she answered as they reached the pasture fence. Stretching for fifty yards, briar bushes hung over the split rails. “Oh, my,” she gushed. She’d never seen such a rich harvest. Honeybees buzzed in and out among the late flowers while the fruit glistened with the last of the morning dew. And not a single blue jay in sight!
Isaiah hooted as he handed Jake his pail. The four spread out and began picking. For the first twenty minutes, they ate as many as they gathered. When they had eaten their fill, they concentrated on filling the buckets with berries to take home. Abby kept an eye on the youngsters to make sure they didn’t entangle themselves in the thicket, but both knew how to pluck the low berries without encountering too many thorns.
“Enough?” asked Isaiah, over Catherine’s shoulder.
She started, not realizing he’d come up behind her. “Jah, more than enough. I had no idea the Grabers owned this goldmine.”
He plucked one firm berry and inspected it carefully before pressing it to her lips. Without thinking, she chomped down like a fish taking a baited hook. “Danki,” she murmured, hoping Laura wasn’t watching. But the child worked diligently as Isaiah fed Catherine berry after berry as though she were incapable of eating on her own. She felt a rush of exhilaration as she plucked a ripe fruit for him. She should discourage his boldness, yet she couldn’t seem to muster the energy. When she fed him a second berry, he bit lightly down on her fingertip. He laughed while she flushed with embarrassment.
“Stop that,” she hissed under her breath. “Load your bucket, and then we’d better head back.” Before Daniel notices we’re gone. They picked for another ten minutes, swatting at mosquitoes and wiping the back of their necks. Then Isaiah took Laura’s hand. “Come,” he instructed and lifted both children over the fence. He climbed over effortlessly and made a motion for Catherine to follow.
“Come where?” she asked, her brows knitting together above her nose.
Isaiah strode toward the scrub pines, holding his bucket and Jake’s hand. Laura ran ahead, spilling berries as she swung her pail like a pendulum.
“Where are you all going?” She hollered to no avail. “There are still plenty more here to pick.” But because Isaiah couldn’t hear her and the kinner didn’t appear to want to, she had no choice but to climb over the fence too. It was neither a graceful nor ladylike maneuver. By the time she caught up with them, she was perspiring and had a horde of gnats swarming around her head.
“Where are you going?” she asked, catching Isaiah’s sleeve.
He stopped abruptly to face her, holding up his index finger as she had done this morning to signal patience. Then he flicked the tip of her nose and resumed hiking.
After a quick glance over her shoulder, Catherine grabbed Laura’s hand and followed. Curiosity had gotten the better of her. They walked not in the direction of Isaiah’s cabin but toward the neighboring property. A fast-moving stream separated the two farms, more or less creating the property line. Tall sycamores and cottonwoods lined the riverbank, while the namesake white fluff floated on the breeze as they drew close. On the western side, catching plenty of sun while being sheltered from the strong burning rays, stood another stand of briars. Although smaller than the first patch, its location along the river provided optimum conditions. The berries were the largest she’d ever seen.
Catherine began picking as though part of some race or competition. Soon they had all filled their buckets to overflowing. When she glanced over at Isaiah, he was watching her. He pressed his finger to his lips and said, “Ssshhhh.”
She didn’t have to ask him what he meant. This patch of blackberry bushes would be their secret. He wouldn’t bring anyone else here and neither should she. She nodded eagerly, loving that she shared a secret with him. She’d become his trusted confidante. And judging by the way he walked at her side on the way home, she’d also become his friend. Although he attempted no conversation, his sparkling eyes told plenty.
Back in the Graber yard, Catherine took everyone’s berries to the porch to be washed and sorted later. The ripest would be eaten tonight with sugar and cream, and then the remaining would be baked into pies or canned. When she came back to find Laura and Jake, they were taking turns on the swing. Isaiah pushed one, then the other on the oak slat hanging from the tree. Patient and careful were his efforts so that Jake didn’t fall off or Laura swing too high.
Catherine watched them from the shade, wishing she didn’t have to start cooking or get the two children washed up for supper. Truthfully, she wished this idyllic summer day would never end. But before she could curtail their playtime, Isaiah sent them inside the house in his special nonverbal manner. Neither child argued but headed toward the porch hand in hand.
She scrambled to her feet, planning to thank him for the afternoon.
“Cat,” he voiced and pointed at the swing.
“Oh, no. I’d better go inside and start—”
“Cat,” he insisted. He pointed again at the swing.
After three seconds of consideration, she plopped down on the wooden slat and gripped the chains. After all, what difference will five minutes make?
Isaiah clamped his fingers over her hands and began to push. His touch sent her heart soaring into the clouds. For a short while she lost herself with childlike abandon. He pushed while she swung higher and higher. The breeze lifted the strings of her kapp and loosened a few tendrils of hair. Closing her eyes, she savored the exquisite sense of flying…of freedom.
Then without warning, Isaiah slowed the swing with a firm grip on both chains. When she turned her face to thank him for the enjoyable afternoon, he leaned in and kissed her. Not a brush of his lips against her cheek as Englischers loved to do or a buzz across the top of her kapp. It was a smack right on her mouth.
And there was nothing childlike about it.
Catherine jumped off the swing and ran toward the house, hearing his laughter ring in her ears until she closed the kitchen door behind her.