Five
Daniel Graber had always been content with his life. The Lord had blessed him with a good wife, healthy children, and acres of productive land to farm. He grew most of the food they ate, raised dairy and beef cattle, and owned good-laying hens. For water he had a deep well, a spring-fed pond stocked with trout, and access to a fast-flowing river for summertime dips. He loved his wife. She had never given him one sleepless night in ten years of marriage. Now, through a misjudgment on her part, a misstep that broke an English law, she was locked in a jail cell instead of being home where she belonged.
Why would an English judge require half a million dollars to make certain Abigail would appear in his courtroom? If he asked her to come back another day to state what happened at the Fisher farm, she would show up—not that she hadn’t already explained the events several times to the EMTs, the sheriff, the coroner, Dr. Weller, and to her court-appointed attorney. Did Englischers who ran afoul of the law pay such sums to the court? He couldn’t fathom it. Abby’s fancy-dressed lawyer had stopped over to explain the bondman’s business, and it smacked of money-changing in the temple in Daniel’s estimation. Plain folk didn’t put up titles to their farms to strangers in exchange for a guarantee that a man would appear in court, except that this person was a woman—and his wife, no less.
In all his life, Daniel could count on one hand the number of Amish folk who had ever been arrested. And the crimes committed had usually been for rumschpringe pranks of mischief.
Never a woman and certainly not the daughter of a bishop.
Each time he thought about the situation, he was filled with shame and anger. If that newcomer Nathan Fisher had called for an ambulance the way he should have, Abby wouldn’t be sitting in jail for doing nothing other than delivering a baby. Tomorrow, the bishop would visit with the other ministerial brethren to discuss what should be done. They would know how to get Abby back home where she belonged.
With tired muscles and a weary spirit, Daniel finished feeding the livestock and washed up in the former pump house. The old copper bathtub still leaned against the wall—a nostalgic reminder of Saturday night baths before the days of indoor plumbing and propane hot water tanks. His grossmammi used to heat kettles of water on the wood-fired stove and then scent the steaming tub with bayberries and cloves. Now they showered with soap-on-a-rope, and their Plain lifestyles had grown easier but not simpler.
When Daniel entered the house, he found Laura and Jake already seated at the table. His sister-in-law was pulling a fry pan from the oven with giant mitts. “Gut nacht, Catherine,” he mumbled, hanging his hat on a peg. He ruffled the downy blond hair of his son and pulled one of his daughter’s kapp strings.
“Good evening to you, Daniel. I was about ready to look for you. Laura said you liked to eat earlier than this, and everything has been finished for an hour.”
“I must finish chores before settling down to a meal.” He cast her an appraising glance. Was she scolding him on her first day in his home? Catherine was younger, smaller, and more opinionated than Abigail. It didn’t surprise him that no man was seriously courting her. Besides an ornery temperament, her dark hair was drab, whereas Abby’s auburn mane was as fiery as an autumn sunset. And Catherine’s eyes were a watery shade of blue instead of the rich sapphire of his wife’s.
“I said shall I scoop some noodles for you?” She hovered next to his chair with Abby’s favorite ceramic bowl in hand.
“Jah, give me a spoonful.” He speared two pieces of chicken from the platter and then placed a drumstick on each of the kinner’s plates. “Abby doesn’t use that bowl for everyday. She saves it for good.”
Catherine served noodles to his children and then sat down in his wife’s chair. “Why not? Using a bowl won’t wear it out like table linens or bed sheets.” She looked genuinely perplexed.
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask your sister that question.” He bit into a chicken breast. The breading was greasy yet the meat tasted dry. “Is there nothing to drink with this meal? Some cold milk or iced tea?”
“Sure, I’ll get the milk, but I didn’t make any tea. No one told me you favored it over milk or water.”
“I don’t particularly favor one over the other. Abigail sets both on the table and lets me decide.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Catherine took four glasses from the cupboard and the pitcher of milk from the refrigerator.
“The young ones use plastic cups, not glass.” Daniel watched her while trying to swallow the dry meat.
Her shoulders stiffened as she filled two glasses with milk and returned to the cupboard for another selection. “Will these red, white, and blue ones suffice or are there particular plastic cups I should learn about?”
Daniel glanced up to see if she was teasing him. She appeared earnest while waiting for his reply. “The stars-and-stripes will do fine.”
She poured the milk and then sat down to her own dinner. She’d taken small helpings compared to Abby’s.
“What did you put in this salad?” he asked.
A smile bloomed across Catherine’s face. “I found some cooked bacon strips in the fridge. So I crumbled them up and tossed it in with the spinach. That’s how they fix spinach salad in fancy restaurants. The only difference is that I didn’t see any mushrooms, but I did mix up a fresh garlic-and-buttermilk dressing.”
“We seldom have mushrooms on hand because we don’t have a cave on the farm.” After a moment, a thought occurred to him. “Is this the bacon from the green Tupperware container? I was saving that for bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches for tomorrow’s lunch.”
“Oh, my. I’m sorry, Daniel. I’ll fry some extra bacon tomorrow at breakfast. And pick another tomato if any more are ripe.” Her focus fell on the chopped tomato ringing the edge of the salad bowl.
“All the rest are still green,” Daniel whined. He wasn’t sure why he was making a big deal out of a vegetable, but he didn’t like the way Abby’s sister had just taken over his kitchen.
Catherine set down her fork and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “You don’t have a problem with Abby inviting me to stay here, do you?”
“No. I’m grateful you are here. Jake and Laura need someone to look after them while I work the fields. And I don’t have time to wash clothes and cook meals along with the farm chores, even if I knew how.” He glanced at his daughter. Laura was listening to their conversation with great interest. “I didn’t mean to sound like you’re not welcome, Catherine, because you are.”
“Danki for that. I’m happy to help out until Abby returns.” She looked directly at Laura. “But I must admit, I’m rather poor at reading folks’ minds. So if you will leave notes on what you don’t want touched, I’d be much obliged.” She smiled, displaying a mouthful of gloriously white teeth.
Daniel decided to let the matter drop. It was only day one with their houseguest. As he had no idea how long this arrangement would last, it would be better to not get off on the wrong foot over bacon strips and ripe tomatoes. He ate everything on his plate, including a second helping of buttered noodles so there would be no hard feelings. Women loved to see clean plates.
While Catherine scraped dishes into the slop bucket, Daniel fixed another plate from the leftovers and poured milk into a travel mug. She eyed him nervously. “You’re eating more, brother? I wouldn’t have started clearing the table if you weren’t finished.”
“No, I’m done. I’m fixing this plate for my cousin.” He dumped the rest of the noodles onto the plate and poured her spinach concoction into a small bowl.
“Your cousin? Is he here?” She drew back the curtain and peered out the window toward the driveway.
“He lives out back in a cabin by the river. You can’t see his place from the house. The barn, orchard, and woods block the view.”
Catherine approached, wiping her hands on her apron. “Why didn’t he come up for supper? I would have set another plate.”
Daniel gritted his teeth. Hopefully, every Graber family custom won’t be brought up for discussion and review. “He likes keeping to himself. He usually takes his meals on the back porch, but if he spotted you in the yard earlier today, he’ll stay away until full dark.”
Following her perplexed expression, he added, “He’s shy, that’s all. He doesn’t like strangers.” Daniel tucked silverware and a napkin into his back pocket. “It’s nothing for you to be concerned about. Besides, this is the time Abby gets the kinner into the bathtub.”
He forced a pleasant smile, snapped a lid on the travel mug, and headed outside before the next round of questions. He knew that telling Catherine to pay something no mind was like telling a thirsty man to ignore an oasis, but because she was Abby’s sister and was doing them a favor, he would try to overlook her constant questions. Daniel had grown accustomed to his wife’s quieter nature, which didn’t have the need to rehash everything to death.
As he walked the well-worn path around the barn and through the orchard toward the river, he knew much of his dissatisfaction was with himself. The look on Abby’s face when they had led her from the courtroom had nearly broken his heart. He didn’t understand what she had done to be charged with a felony. The authorities generally ignored midwifery that was confined to the Amish community. How could they charge her with practicing medicine without a license? That was absurd. Did the fact that Mrs. Fisher had died change the situation? Surely they wouldn’t keep Abby locked up until the trial…that could be months from now. His tenderhearted wife wouldn’t last among worldly, hardened criminals. If he had to mortgage his farm to bring her home, then so be it. But her daed, their bishop, would have an opinion in the matter.
The slanted rays of the setting sun reflected off Isaiah’s cabin as Daniel rounded the last bend in the path. Early settlers in Wayne County had cleared this patch of land on the bank of the Tuscarawas River and constructed a crude cabin. After his cousin had come to live with them and discovered the ramshackle shack, he had seen possibilities among the cobwebs and entwining grapevines. Isaiah had laid hardwood planking over the original dirt floor and installed double-paned windows purchased from a resale shop. He’d added a wood-burning stove bought at auction for cooking and winter warmth. Cool breezes through the pinewoods stretching high into the hills kept even the hottest July days bearable. His reclusive cousin had dug his own well, built a flagstone fireplace into one wall, and replaced the rotted roof with steel sheeting from the salvage yard. Then he’d crawled onto the roof and painted the metal dark green to blend in with the forest. The bishop probably wouldn’t approve of so fancy a roof, but Isaiah loved the fact that it would last forever.
Daniel knew his practical cousin wasn’t half as simpleminded as folks thought him to be.
“Isaiah?” he called at the clearing, but he heard only the faint rush of the river and birds high overhead. Then Daniel saw his cousin round the back corner of his cabin carrying an armful of firewood. His constant companion, a large yellow dog, loped by his side. Isaiah’s thick, straight hair was combed back from his tanned face and, as usual, his hat was nowhere in sight. With bare feet and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looked more like a Native American from schoolhouse storybooks than an Amish fellow. But he didn’t need to conform exactly to the Plain style of dress because weeks would pass without his seeing anybody other than family members.
He added his load to the neat stack near the front door for his old-fashioned stove. He had no use for the propane Daniel and Abby used at the main house. “Hullo,” Isaiah called with a grin. Daniel was one of the few people the younger man ever tried to communicate with.
“You didn’t come up to the porch for supper,” said Daniel, “so I brought it to you.” He held up the food containers and travel mug.
Isaiah sprinted to the pump to wash while Daniel set out his meal in the outdoor dining room—a rough-hewn picnic table and two handmade benches under the slanted porch roof. Isaiah dried his hands on a gingham towel that hung from a tree branch and slipped onto a bench, graceful as a cat. He could sneak up on a deer and pull her white tail, he moved so silently.
While he bowed his head, Daniel pulled the plastic wrap from the plate. “Sorry about the dried out meal,” he said. “Abby isn’t home. Her younger sister cooked this, but the buttered noodles aren’t too bad.”
Isaiah glanced up quizzically while biting into a piece of chicken.
For some reason, Daniel prattled on whenever he was in his cousin’s company, knowing full well the man couldn’t hear and didn’t understand a word he said. Yet he seemed happier when folks spoke to him—grinning and nodding his head—so Daniel talked whenever they were alone. Isaiah grunted a sound that meant pleasure, so apparently Catherine’s cooking didn’t fall short of the mark for him.
Daniel patted Isaiah’s strong shoulder with affection. “No need to hurry.” He made a slow, undulating motion with his hand. “Bring the dishes up to the house tomorrow.” He touched the plate, bowl, and cup, pointed in the direction of his house, and then toward the sky and made a forward rolling motion that both men took to mean “tomorrow.” They had devised a similar backward movement to indicate “yesterday.” Over the years Daniel and Isaiah had developed their own simple form of communication.
When Isaiah nodded in understanding, Daniel slapped his shoulder once more and started for home. As darkness fell around him, he paused a moment to pray for guidance. With Abby gone, he felt like a boat adrift without anchor or paddle. Now more than ever, he needed to stay strong for the people living here who depended on him.
Catherine watched from the kitchen window as Daniel sauntered off, carrying supper to his mysterious cousin. Shy Amish people might not talk much at meals, but she’d never known any to hide from folks, especially not from their own family. While she washed dishes, wiped down countertops, and swept the floor, her mind invented half a dozen reasons for someone turning into a hermit.
Had he broken the Ordnung so grievously that the district had cast him out? District members could not take meals, conduct business, or socialize with those who had been shunned, but they could provide food, shelter, and basic necessities. Is that what Daniel is doing—providing subsistence to someone who has been shunned? By the time she had finished cleaning the kitchen, no other explanation seemed logical.
“Laura, Jake, come take a bath,” she called from the doorway to the front room. “Your daed said it’s time. Laura, you put the toys away in the box while your bruder bathes first.”
Jake scampered to his feet, carrying a yellow rubber toy.
“Mamm lets him bring Ducky in the tub,” said Laura, looking pensive.
“Then Ducky can come for a scrubbing too.” Catherine took the boy’s hand, feeling a measure of relief as Laura began tidying the room without a word of argument. Maybe the kinner would adjust to her presence quicker than their father.
After Jake was bathed, dressed in his sleep shirt, and headed up the steps with an equally clean duck, Catherine called Laura for her turn in the bathtub. Daniel hadn’t returned from his delivery yet. While the girl splashed around in the bubbles for a few minutes, Catherine started the kettle for tea, watching the back door for his arrival. Fifteen minutes later, her niece padded out in a fresh nightgown and sopping wet hair. Catherine left her window-side vigil to towel dry Laura’s waist length tresses and brush out the tangles.
“Tell me, niece, how old is your cousin who lives out behind the barn?”
The child shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Is he young like you, old like me, or somewhere in between?”
Laura looked up at her and considered. “He’s old like you, but not old like daed.”
“Hmm, that’s interesting. Do you know his name?” She glanced into the back hallway.
Laura giggled. “Of course I know his name. It’s Isaiah.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met him,” Catherine said softly, working her fingers patiently through a nasty snarl.
The girl lifted and then dropped her shoulders.
“I wonder why he doesn’t come to preaching services or why I’ve never met him at any social occasion. I don’t think my sister has ever spoken about a cousin living at her farm.” With care, she plied the brush through another tangle, not wishing to cause pain on her first day.
“Abby doesn’t talk about him because there’s not much to say… unless a person is interested in gossip.” Daniel leaned on the door-frame of the back hallway. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he wasn’t smiling.
“Daniel! You startled me. I had been wondering when you would get back.” Catherine finished brushing the child’s long hair and then braided it into a loose plait.
“Put that wet towel in the hamper and go upstairs, daughter. It’s thirty minutes past your bedtime. I’ll be up to say gut nacht in a few minutes.” After Laura did as instructed, he turned his hard-edged dark eyes on Catherine. “If you have any questions, ask them of me instead of a six-year-old.”
She stood and walked to the stove while her back arched like a cat. “I was curious as to why you have kept your cousin hidden away in a cabin instead of letting him mingle with other people. Would you like a cup of tea, Daniel? The water’s hot.”
“Jah, tea, danki.” Daniel walked across the kitchen and settled his tall frame against the counter. “Isaiah isn’t hidden away. He chooses to live by himself down by the river. He’s happy keeping his own counsel without folks asking nosy questions or giving him advice he doesn’t need.”
“Honey or sugar?” she asked, dunking tea bags into both cups.
“Honey, two teaspoons.” His pique changed to an expression of bafflement.
“My, you like things sweet,” she murmured, while measuring the precise amount of honey into his cup. “I asked because I’m filling in for Abby for a while, and I would like to know the number of mouths to feed. And if the arrangement is to set a plate of whatever we’re having on the porch picnic table, or send a hamper of sandwiches tied to a pack mule down the back path, please just let me know.” She handed one cup to him, keeping her gaze locked with his.
Daniel was struggling not to smile as he accepted the cup. “We don’t own a pack mule, Catherine, only Percherons, standardbreds, and one Shetland pony.” He singed his lips when he sipped his tea.
“No mule? All right then, that question has been settled. You should let that tea cool a tad.”
“If you put a plate of food on the porch after breakfast and dinner, that would be fine. Cover it with plastic wrap. It doesn’t bother him if the food gets cold. Fill a travel mug with coffee in the morning and milk in the evening and snap the lid on tight.”
“What about lunch?” She blew across the surface of her cup.
“Two sandwiches, any kind. Mustard, no mayonnaise. Sliced tomatoes if we have them, and any variety of fruit. And if you’ve baked cookies, he’ll take as many as you can spare. Just put his lunch in one of those cooler bags with a can of cola and leave it on the table. He’ll come for it by-and-by. Sometimes he gets busy cutting deadwood in the hills or working the back fields, but he always comes eventually.”
Catherine sipped her tea. “Good to know. That’s useful information and not idle gossip.”
Daniel nodded. “Abby bakes him banana nut bread whenever the IGA puts bananas on the reduced rack. She buys all they have and freezes the extra loaves.” He took a gulp of tea. “Don’t be surprised if he avoids crossing your path, Catherine. He’s simpleminded and keeps to himself.” He tapped his temple with an index finger. “He’s not all there, but he’s a fine man and takes good care of himself in his cabin. You don’t have to worry about him except for setting out his meals. Danki for the drink. I’m going to read in my room for a while. Gut nacht.” He left the kitchen before she could ask any more questions.
While finishing her tea, she pondered the cousin who had grown only more mysterious with Daniel’s explanation. If the Graber family was concerned about gossip, the young man must have been shunned for some past transgression. She wandered onto the porch. With Daniel and the children already upstairs, she knew she should also retire to her bedroom, but she wasn’t sleepy and felt too addled to read. Setting the empty cup on the rail, she grabbed the flashlight from the steps and started walking from the house at a brisk pace. Walking always brought peace whenever her siblings were annoying or daed’s rules thwarted her plans. If she hiked for a while, sleep would come more easily to a weary body. She headed around the barn and down the path toward the river for some much-needed exercise.
She wasn’t spying on Daniel’s cousin.
She hadn’t planned to pick her way through the increasing gloom in the orchard, fending off low-hanging branches with an upraised arm. Mosquitoes feasting on her face and hands were no reason to turn back. After all, the moon rising low on the horizon would soon flood the fields with light to illuminate her way home. The evening breeze carried the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle and jasmine, while whippoorwills and owls joined the serenade of tree frogs and cicadas.
Catherine paused on the narrow path to catch her breath. With the orchard behind her, she spotted a line of swamp willows a quarter mile ahead. Those trees loved moist rocky soil. In between, briars and spiny shrubs encroached on the path on both sides. Who knew what critters lurked in the brush? She considered turning back, contemplating what her brother-in-law would say if he spotted her flashlight beam from his bedroom window. But Catherine Yost had always been a curious child. As a grown woman, that particular characteristic hadn’t diminished. With a final glance over her shoulder, she inhaled a deep breath and forged ahead, concentrating on where she walked as sharp blackberry thorns threatened both eyes and clothes.
As the path entered the woods and shadows soon enveloped her, Catherine stood still for several moments. The flashlight became more hindrance than help because it revealed too small an area to gain her bearings. Switching off the narrow beam, she waited patiently for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Soon the well-trodden path dimly reappeared between the trees.
What am I doing here? Why am I spying on someone who wishes to be left alone? Haven’t I annoyed Daniel enough my first day in his house? But Catherine inched forward until scrub forest gave way to the tall sycamores and willows that grew near water. She paused and listened to the faint but distinctive sound of a rushing river, trying to ignore the chilling cries of a coyote up in the hills. Beyond the line of trees she spotted a black void, warning of the steep drop-off of a riverbed. She gingerly picked her way along the path, illuminated only by the light of a full moon overhead.
As she pushed aside some low tree boughs, she gasped. Yellow light from a kerosene lamp flickered through the wavy glass of a window. She had found the cabin—the residence of Daniel’s reclusive cousin, Isaiah. Though she yearned to peek inside his home, to discover the tastes of a man who lived by his own design, she didn’t dare. She’d already wandered from her sister’s home and had been gone too long. Feeling a shiver of excitement snake up her spine, Catherine watched spellbound for another minute. Then she turned and began the painstaking journey back to her new home.
Creeping along the path, darker now than on her way in, tiny hairs on the back of neck suddenly stood on end. She peered off to her left into the brush, maybe ten or twelve feet. Sitting motionless in the thicket with ears at full alert sat a very large yellow animal. His eyes reflected the moonlight with an evil, netherworld glint. The beast neither barked, nor howled, nor made any menacing approach, yet Catherine’s heart stopped beating within her chest for several seconds.
Was it a fox? Or a coyote? Perhaps a lone wolf that had wandered down from Canada across a frozen lake?
She didn’t stick around to ask questions or gather additional canine details. She picked up her skirt and ran pell-mell for the house. She didn’t stop until the porch loomed before her eyes, and then she doubled over, panting like the species she had encountered.
Despite her best effort, Catherine hadn’t been remotely unobtrusive. Alive to the nuances of the night, Isaiah Graber had sensed her approach from the moment a blackberry briar had first caught the sleeve of her dress and she’d muttered in dismay. Overcome with his own curiosity, he’d circled around in a wide arc to watch the stranger approach his cabin.
He knew she was afraid—he’d caught the scent of fear—but on she’d crept.
He could tell she had little experience in the great outdoors, yet she hadn’t turned back when the path left the sparse orchard and entered the dense, dark woods. Little illumination reached the forest floor until a person reached the clearing for his cabin, but the woman had waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and then kept going. Will she boldly let herself in and sit down on my sofa? Maybe fry up a few eggs for a late night snack? At the spruce tree she had paused and approached no farther. She stood staring at his cabin, watching what he couldn’t fathom. Then she’d tripped over the same rocks and been scratched by the same briars all the way back. Utterly perplexed, Isaiah followed her until she reached the orchard without breaking her neck.
This was the same woman who had arrived this afternoon with a bulging a suitcase. He’d seen a buggy pull up to the house while he’d been repairing fences in the high pasture. Little happened on his cousin’s farm that escaped his notice, unless he was off hunting in the autumn or buried under a blanket of snow during winter. Was she the one who had cooked the delicious fried chicken, buttered noodles, and spinach salad with pieces of bacon? He’d watched Abigail climb into a car with flashing red and blue lights and not come back. Isaiah couldn’t imagine what Daniel would do without his wife. And he’d been rather curious about the woman ever since her arrival. But now that she had bravely ventured down the path, all the way to his cabin, he was downright mystified.