Treasuring Emma (34 page)

Her cheeks flushed, and she smiled a little. She and Peter had spent the night in her parents’ old bedroom, while Laura and Adam were taken to the hospital. The smile disappeared, however, at the realization of everything she could have lost yesterday.

“Clara?” Peter lifted her chin with his hand. “I know you’re upset about the shop. We can rebuild it. Order new fabric, yarn. Whatever you need.”

She shook her head. “
Nee
. We can’t.”

He frowned. “Don’t lose faith,
lieb
. I’ll make sure your dream will happen.”

Clara gazed into her husband’s eyes. She lifted a hand to his face and ran her fingers through his beard. He still smelled of smoke and fire. And courage. He was the bravest man she’d ever known. “Remember what you told me when I pushed for the fabric shop? How it would succeed if it was God’s will?”

He nodded. “I was thinking more about profits. Not
mei
awful cousin setting it ablaze.”

“But that might be His answer. I pushed for this shop. I wanted it. I didn’t pray for God’s guidance.” She looked down at her lap. “I didn’t ask for His help. I became angry with everyone who stood in my way. Emma. You.”

Peter grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “It doesn’t mean it wasn’t a
gut
idea.”

“Maybe God has a better one.” As she looked at him, an ache rose up in her chest, and she gripped his hand hard. “It took almost losing you to make me start listening to Him.”

He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her forehead. “This can be a new start for us, Clara. It might be God’s will for us to rebuild the shop. Or He might have another plan, like you said.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Whatever happens, we need to stand together,
ya
?”

“Ya,”
she whispered. “I love you, Peter.”

He kissed her cheek, his lips lingering on her skin. Then he pulled away. “We should finish getting dressed. As much as I like Leona and Emma’s hospitality, I’ll be glad to get home. To our
kinner
. To our life together again.”

“And what of Mark?” Fear seized her just thinking about him, about how things could have turned out even worse if Emma had listened to her.

Peter didn’t say anything for a long time. “I don’t know. They’ll have to find him first. The police said they would keep us posted, but he might just disappear.”

Clara leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder. “I don’t understand why he did this.”

“I don’t either,” Peter said. “Some things we may never understand.”

Mark King bent down and tied the laces of his tennis shoes. He stood and glanced around the bus station in Ashtabula. Pulled a Cleveland Indians baseball cap low over his newly shorn hair. Shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and slouched into his sweatshirt, like he’d seen so many Yankee men his age do.

He went to the ticket window and purchased a one-way ticket to New York City. The bus wouldn’t depart for another fifteen minutes. He put on a pair of sunglasses and tucked himself into the corner of the station. There were several Amish here, but he was confident none of them could recognize him.

Almost confident. He’d learned he couldn’t take anything for granted in Middlefield.

Ten minutes dragged by as if it were ten hours. Finally the bus pulled up. Mark threw a duffel bag over his hunched shoulder and climbed on the bus. Through tinted shades he looked for a seat. Then saw the perfect one.

“Mind if I sit here?”

The young Amish woman glanced up at him for a moment. Her gaze dropped to her lap.

Mark smiled. Shy. She wouldn’t say yes. But her eyes didn’t say no.

“Thanks.” He plopped down in the seat and slouched down. Took off his glasses. Unlike Emma Shetler, this girl was pretty. And hopefully unlike Laura Stutzman, she would be as dumb as a post.

“Matt Kingston.” He held his hand out to the girl.

Her cheeks reddened. She looked at his hand. Slipped her tiny one tentatively into his. “Naomi Kline.”

He grinned, holding her hand longer than a polite Amish boy would, long enough to capture her attention without offending her. Yes, this one would occupy his time until he found some other relative to take him in.

“Nice to meet you, Naomi Kline,” he said.

Leona knocked on the hospital room door. When she didn’t hear an answer, she wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t expected one. She slowly opened the door. Her gaze drifted to the young woman lying in the hospital bed. The sheet pulled up to her chest. The bandages wrapped around her hands and face.

Her heart filled with compassion for Laura Stutzman. Of all of them, she had suffered the most. And from Clara’s and Emma’s accounts, had deserved it the least. The window had shattered directly into her face. Shards of glass had embedded in her forehead, cheeks, and chin. Thank the Lord, only a few slivers had gone into her eyes. She wouldn’t lose her eyesight, but she would be in great pain until the lacerations healed.

Leona opened the door wider. Laura didn’t move, despite the noisy door hinge. Emma had tried to visit earlier. Laura had refused to acknowledge her. She might refuse Leona as well. But that wouldn’t keep Leona from trying.

Her shoes squeaked and her cane tapped against the shiny floor. Laura didn’t have a roommate. Leona was grateful. They could have their conversation in private.

“Laura?”

The young woman turned her head away from Leona.

Leona continued to walk toward her. “I won’t ask how you feel. I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through.”

No answer.

“The nurse said they contacted your parents in Tennessee. Have you heard from them?”

After a long pause, Laura said,
“Nee.”

Leona moved closer to the chair in the corner, near the end of the bed. “Do you mind if I sit down? Can’t stand too long on these old legs of mine.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I’m sure your parents will be here soon. Then they can take you home.”

For the first time Laura turned in Leona’s direction. Her eyes were covered and her face was almost entirely bandaged. Although Leona couldn’t see the stitches, she knew from Clara how extensive the damage had been. Her granddaughter had described the girl’s face as a spiderweb of cuts and burns, like an image in a shattered mirror. The child’s trauma wasn’t nearly over, not by a long sight.

“I don’t think
mei
parents will come.” Given her circumstances, Laura’s voice sounded surprisingly strong and stable. “I disobeyed them. I shamed them. I foolishly trusted a
mann
who stole their life savings.” She turned away again. “I’m sure they believe I deserve this.”

“Nee. Nee!”
Leona banged her cane on the floor, so hard it made Laura flinch. “You did not deserve this. You did
nix
. You were taken advantage of by a cruel and merciless
mann
. That’s not your fault.”

Laura lifted her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter.” She lifted her chin in Leona’s direction. “You’re Emma’s
grossmammi
,
ya
? Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be. I’ve been praying for you.”

“Thanks.”

Leona ignored the bitter tone. “And to let you know you’ll always have a place to stay in Middlefield.” She saw Laura bite her bottom lip. “We are not like Mark King.”

“I know.” Her voice softened, grew thick. “It hurts,” she whispered.

Leona stood up and went to her. She brushed her hand over the girl’s pale blond hair, much the way her own mother had many, many years ago. “I know,
kinn
. But your injuries will heal.”

“
Nee
. They won’t.”

Leona didn’t answer right away. In a sense, the girl was right. The stitches and burns would leave scars, scars she would carry forever. But far worse were the wounds inside her heart and soul.

“You may not believe this now, Laura. Or even in a few months or years. But God will heal you. Completely.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t believe you.” Then the girl turned her face to the wall and said no more.

C
HAPTER
29

The next day Adam returned home. The doctors told him he was lucky: he had only one burned hand, ten stitches to the side of his head, and a pretty severe concussion. But Adam knew it wasn’t luck. It was a second chance, at everything.

One he planned to take.

His father had picked him up in a taxi. They hadn’t said much on the ride home from the hospital. When the driver dropped them off, his father paid him. Both men watched as the black sedan pulled out of the driveway.

“Danki,”
Adam said. His head hurt, but he had medication prescribed by the doctor that helped keep most of the pain at bay. It also made him sleepy. “I appreciate you bringing me home.”

Norman nodded. “Guess you better get inside. Your
mamm
is waiting for you. Ready to make a fuss, I’m sure.”

Adam tried not to react to his father’s emotionless tone. He prayed for patience, tried not to be sensitive to the lack of feeling. But he failed. “If I’m a bother, I can leave.”

Norman tipped his hat back. His nose reddened in the chilly air. “If that’s what you want to do.”

It wasn’t what Adam wanted. What he wanted was for his father to ask him to stay. To want him to come back. Not just to Middlefield, but to the faith. But he had never said those words to him. Not even the day Adam left. “Do you want me here,
Daed
?”

His father gazed past Adam’s shoulder. “Doesn’t matter what I want.”

“It does to me.” Adam met his father’s gaze.

“That’s a surprise. Last I heard, you didn’t care what I thought.”

“That was a stupid
bu
talking. I’ve grown up,
Daed
. I finally know what’s important. What’s real.” He let out a deep breath. “What I’ve been searching for.”

“And what is that?”

“Without
familye
, I’m empty. Without God, I’m nothing.” He reached out to his father. “Without love, I can’t survive.”

His father’s beard trembled. He clasped his forearm over Adam’s uninjured arm. Squeezed it tight. “Then you’ve come home for the right reasons,” he said, his voice shaky. He let go of Adam’s arm.

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat as his father headed toward the pasture. His sanctuary, beyond Sunday worship.

He hadn’t spoken the words, but the sentiment was clear. His father did want him here. That, Adam no longer doubted.

Adam nodded, satisfied. He turned toward the house and saw his truck sitting in the driveway. The last vestige of his non-Amish life. As soon as he was able to drive, he knew exactly what he was going to do with it.