Hidden Mercies (34 page)

“None of them. He paces.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was bred to be a guard dog. He’ll go from one bedroom to another, all over the house. Making certain everyone is okay. He did a lot of that with just me to watch over. He’ll be in his glory having so many to guard.”

“Then he will certainly earn any dog food I get him,” she said. “But please come and say good-bye to the children before you go. And what about your father?”

He glanced at his watch, a worried expression on his face. “I’ll say good-bye to the children, and then swing by
Daed
’s. I’m not going to break it to him who I am. Not now when I have to leave so suddenly. I’ll write him a letter and let him know that he’s been spending time with Tobias after all. I’ll let him know it’s okay to move down to Gallia County with Faye if he wants to. He needs to know he doesn’t have to try to preserve a home for me anymore.”

Oh, how hard this was going to be on Jeremiah. As hard, if not harder, as it was on her and the children.

The only real regret she saw on Tom’s face as he prepared to leave them was when he said good-bye to Amy and she began to cry.

“You’re my friend!” Amy said. “You took care of me. I always knew you would keep me safe if anything bad happened.”

“I’m so sorry, little one,” he said. “But I have to go keep the president and his staff safe now.”

“Do you love him more than you love me?” Amy asked.

Claire’s heart echoed with the little girl’s question.

“No,” Tom said. “Of course not. I only met him once. But keeping him safe is my way of keeping you safe. He’s a good
man. From what I hear, he’s trying hard to lead our country in a good direction. I need to help make sure nothing bad happens to him, and you’ll have Rocky to watch over you.”

“I guess,” Amy said, doubtfully.

Claire walked him to his car and stood beside him while he slung his duffel into the backseat. Whatever bit of Amish she had seen in him had disappeared entirely.

“Keep safe and well,” he said, as he climbed into the car. “And thank you for everything. Make sure you use that money.”

She nodded, and then she turned her back on him and his car and his big, important hurry and began to weed the flowers beside the porch. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of waving good-bye. Those
Englisch
! She wasn’t sure she would ever welcome one into her life ever again.

•   •   •

He knew she was hurt, but now that he knew what his life would become for the next few years, it would not be kind to give her false hope that he would be back.

Had Claire been any other woman, he would have asked to come with him. To marry him, live in Washington or Arlington, put the kids in school there. It would be possible to have a marriage under those circumstances. But not Claire. She would never leave. She would hate Washington.

Better that she find some good Amish man with whom to live out the rest of her life. The thought hurt—but he had no right to ask her to wait for him. She needed a good husband to help her raise those children, someone who would fit into her life.

As for him, he could no more say no to this call to duty for his country than Claire could cut her hair and wear shorts.

Saying good-bye to his father was going to be hard—but
he still believed his choice to keep quiet about his identity had been the best thing to do. He would write a long letter explaining everything to his father when he got a chance.

He planned to stop in and see his
daed
on his way out. He could tell him about the new job. Perhaps his father would be a little bit proud of him. That would be nice, to know that
Daed
was proud of him.

Faye, her husband, and Jeremiah were all sitting on the front porch when he pulled in. It appeared that he had interrupted a conversation that had not been going well. His father seemed relieved to see him.

“Why are you in uniform?” Jeremiah asked. “Are you going into the Army again? I thought you liked it here.”

“It’s the Marines, and I do like it here—but I got a letter yesterday that changed my plans.”

In a few sentences he explained to his father where he was going and why. Jeremiah never once changed expressions.

“Got something I want to give you before you take off,” Jeremiah said. “Come on back to the barn with me a minute.”

When they got to the barn, Jeremiah led him to a work area where he kept a few tools and harnesses. Once there, the mask came off and Tom could see the worry in his father’s face.

“Faye and Ephraim are trying again to talk me into leaving. Faye says she’s worried about me here all by myself. The girl has always been softhearted like her mother.”

“But you aren’t going?”

“Faye misses her father.” Jeremiah spit a thin stream of tobacco juice at a knothole. “But Ephraim has dollar signs in his eyes.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“I think he often wonders how soon I will leave this earth.” Jeremiah took a square, green tin off a high shelf. “I
will wait for Tobias. We will see how eager my son-in-law is to have me when I no longer possess eighty acres of prime Holmes County land.”

He pulled a rusted, green tin box off a high shelf and pried the top off. Inside were some odds and ends, the kind of flotsam that floated around a working farm. Also inside was a small piece of chamois wrapped around an object. Jeremiah unwrapped it, and there lay a pocketknife with a carved bone handle.

“This is a good knife,” he said. “It holds a sharpened edge longer than any I’ve ever owned. It’s a Barlow. I don’t need it anymore. I want you to take it.”

He handed it to Tom. The thing was old, and extremely well made. It was also obviously something Jeremiah greatly treasured.

“It’s beautiful.” Tom turned it over and over in his hand. “Where did you get it?”

Jeremiah hesitated. “It belonged to my father.”

“Are you sure you want me to have it?”

“You have been a good friend to me,
Englischer.
”

Tom slipped it into his pocket and grasped Jeremiah’s hand in a firm handshake. “I’ll carry it on me always.”

“Good,” Jeremiah said. “A man never knows when he might need a good, sharp pocketknife. You be careful out there.”

His dad was right. A man never did know when he might need a good pocketknife. He also knew that this gift, a token of his father’s care, would never leave his side from now on.

As soon as he got settled, he would write his father and tell him, truly, how much the pocketknife, and his friendship, had meant to him, Tobias.

A
lthough Tom had flown helicopters for many years, he had never flown
Marine One
. The protocol that had risen around the president’s helicopter was enormous, and there was much to learn, much to observe. There were security measures beyond anything he had ever experienced, all to keep the most important person on the planet alive. He learned what countermeasures he should take to avoid a direct attack; he learned which men and women would be acting as his copilots; and he began to learn the personality of his new president, the president’s family, and his staff.

Much of his job would be shuttling the president from the White House to
Air Force One,
the jet that had been so well outfitted from within and without that the president could run the country from it indefinitely if necessary.

He did not expect to become the president’s friend. The only thing he wanted was to do a good job. There could be no errors. He could not afford to be distracted by personal issues. He existed, at least while he was the pilot for
Marine One,
for one reason only—to get the president from point A to point B as safely as possible.

He could not, for instance, allow himself to think about Claire. Or Amy. Or to wonder if Levi and Grace had ironed
out their problems yet. He couldn’t think about sweet little Sarah or the stalwart Albert, or mischievous Jesse. He couldn’t allow himself to worry about Maddy and wonder if she was still determined to be part of the New Order “goody-goodies.”

He shoved these thoughts aside every time he climbed into the cockpit, so that he could become one with his machine. Feeling every nuance. Anticipating the slightest bounce. Checking and rechecking to make certain the mechanics were perfect before taking off.

He also practiced, over and over, landing on the small landing pad by the White House. In some ways that was the thing he dreaded the most—trying to make a perfect landing on such a small space with the ground frequently littered by news people and White House staff alerted that the president was coming in.

He forced himself to ignore his longing to be back in Holmes County with the people he loved. He had to ignore it—that was what good soldiers did.

It helped a little that the president occasionally took the time to express his appreciation.

•   •   •

Claire was no stranger to grief, but this felt different. Matthew and Abraham had not chosen to leave her. Tom Miller had.

It took her a few days before she could steel herself to face going up to his apartment.

There was little for her to do. A hardback book, half read, was lying facedown on the floor beside the armchair. She picked it up and read the spine. It was one of Levi’s innumerable books about history. This particular one was about an ancient Greek war. She could see no value in reading something like this, but that only underscored the vast difference
between the two of them. On the other hand, she had enjoyed her conversations with him even more for that very reason. She closed the book and set it back on a shelf.

The apartment smelled different than when Levi lived there. There was a scent that had always lingered around Tom. It was subtle—he was not a man given to wearing cologne—but she had liked his woodsy-spice smell. As she went in to wipe down the bathroom and take the towels to launder, she found the source of that scent. It was nothing more than a dark-colored bar of soap. There was no longer any way to discern what brand it was. She held it to her nose and breathed deeply. Then she slipped the half-used bar of soap into her pocket.

She took everything out of the refrigerator. He liked to eat healthy. Some lean meats and vegetables were about all that was in there. He had developed a great affection for Mrs. Yoder’s and ate there several times a week. She left the few canned goods behind. She knew where they were if she needed them.

He had already stripped the bed and folded the sheets and blankets. Never in her life had she wished for more work, but the fact that he had left so little sign that he had ever lived there was a disappointment to her. He had been a clean and organized man, used to living with little or no excess.

Perhaps that meant her and the children as well. Perhaps they were excess. Easily left behind. Perhaps she had made a mistake in confiding in him all her little problems. Her face burned as she thought about how she had treated him like an understanding friend, confiding to this very important pilot all the bits and pieces of her small world.

How foolish she must have appeared.

And how foolish she had been to allow him to become so close to Amy. That little girl had been hit hard by his leaving.

She didn’t blame him for returning to his old life, flying his precious helicopters. What she blamed him for was ever coming here at all.

•   •   •

Claire had barely gotten the sheets and a few other whites soaking in the washtub at her house when Elizabeth pulled in. This surprised her. Elizabeth had not driven in more than two years, which might account for the erratic way the older woman had parked.

“The doctor has said you can drive again?” she asked.

“That doctor Grace took me to shouldn’t even have a medical license. He looks like he should still be playing Little League.”

“But he cleared you to drive?”

“I don’t need a doctor telling me if I can drive or not. I have a perfectly good driver’s license and I intend to use it.”

Claire interpreted this to mean that the doctor had not cleared her, but Elizabeth had no intention of admitting it. “Can I bring you some tea?” she asked, as Elizabeth sat down on the porch to get her breath.

“That would be lovely,” the older woman said. “Thank you. And then we need to talk.”

That sounded ominous. She could not imagine anything all that serious that her old friend would want to talk to her about. Unless it was Levi and Grace. She hoped things hadn’t gotten worse between them.

While she was at it, she made herself some tea, and then went out to face whatever bad news Elizabeth had to give her. Over the years, Claire had learned a significant fact—the more people you have in your life, the more crises you have to deal with.

Elizabeth took a sip and smiled. “You remembered that I like honey in it. You are so thoughtful.”

Actually, Claire had not thought at all. They used honey for most things that needed sweetening. Their hives brought in enough every year to keep them well supplied with extra to sell. Besides that, she had heard that honey had some health benefits that sugar did not.

“I want to rent the apartment that Tom vacated,” Elizabeth said.

Claire was surprised. That was the last thing she had expected to come out of Elizabeth’s mouth.

“Who are you renting it for? Becky?”

“Becky will have to fend for herself next time she comes home,” Elizabeth said. “I want to rent it for myself.”

“I don’t understand,” Claire said. “Why would you want to leave your home?”

“Because your son and my granddaughter are driving me crazy,” Elizabeth said. “I came to Mt. Hope for peace. I worked for it, and I deserve it. What I have right now are two hardheaded people who can’t seem to work out any sort of a compromise, but still love each other too much to get a divorce.” She took another sip of tea and shook her head. “I want out of it. I can hear their voices even in the
Daadi Haus
.”

“They will be upset and embarrassed if they know they are the cause of your leaving your own home.”