Unbreakable (2 page)

The only thing I could think of to protect myself was to kneel down in the ditch, put my hands over my head, and plead for God's intervention. It was a desperate prayer borne out of terror. I held Daisy's reins tightly in my trembling hands, wondering if I should let her go. Perhaps she could run away to safety. She whinnied and stomped as the sound of the truck's engine grew closer. Then everything became quiet. Afraid to look up, I simply waited with my eyes closed.

A man's voice cut through the silence. “Hope, are you all right?”

I raised my head and found myself staring into Jonathon Wiese's bright blue eyes. Jonathon, a fairly new resident of Kingdom, wasn't trying to hurt me. He'd just rescued me. His face was pinched with concern.

“Oh, Jonathon. That . . . that truck . . .”

“Was out to get you.” He held out his hand and I stood up, almost losing my balance. He reached out to catch me. “Hold on tight,” he said as he lifted me out of the ditch and
onto the road. He took the reins from my hands and led Daisy up, talking gently to her, trying to calm her rattled nerves.

“You . . . you may have just saved my life,” I said, attempting to catch my breath. “I was so frightened.” Without any warning, I suddenly felt dizzy and cried out. Jonathon grabbed me before I fell. Then he picked me up in his arms and carried me toward his truck. I laid my head against his muscular chest, feeling safe and protected. He held me as if I weighed almost nothing.

“You stay here and rest,” he said as he gently put me onto his passenger seat. “I'm going back to get Daisy.”

Jonathon was a young man who had moved to our community with his family almost a year ago. He'd immediately started sharing his ideas about reforming Kingdom Mennonite Church. His opinions excited me as much as they upset my father. Right now, that argument didn't seem the least bit important. I was just grateful God had sent him to help me.

Realizing that something felt amiss, I put my hand on the top of my head and discovered that I'd not only lost my prayer covering, most of my hair had been tugged out of its bun. Since my hair is usually anchored in place by a ribbon and several pins, it takes a lot to pull it out of place. I tried to gather my disheveled locks back together, but it was useless. My ribbon was gone, and the few pins I had left weren't enough to hold my long hair. Not knowing what else to do, I yanked out the rest of the remaining pins and stuck them in my pocket. Then I ran my hands through my hair to make it less unkempt. Having Jonathon see me like this made me want to cry.

A few minutes later, Jonathon stuck his head inside the cab. His eyes widened as he gazed at me.

“I . . . I'm sorry,” I said, trying to push the thick tresses back from my face. “My hair must have gotten snagged on a branch or something. My prayer covering is gone . . . and my ribbon . . .”

Jonathon reached over and took my hand. I winced in pain. “Oh, Hope. I'm so sorry. You've been injured.”

I shook my head, trying not to cry. “I'm fine, really. I was just so scared.” Compassion shone in his eyes. “I'm sorry you have to see me like this.” I touched my hair with my other hand. “I must look just . . . awful.”

Jonathon didn't say anything for a moment, and I realized with surprise that he was blushing. “Hope, you look like an angel. You're so beautiful. . . .” He cleared his throat and the red in his cheeks deepened. “I'm sorry. I have no right to say something like that.”

I wiped my eyes with my apron, which probably wasn't a good idea since it was torn and dirty. I wanted to act like a proper Mennonite lady, but something inside me jumped for joy to know that he thought I was beautiful. Of course, acknowledging his compliment wasn't appropriate, so I quickly changed the subject.

“Is . . . is Daisy all right?”

“She's fine, but your carriage is in bad shape. There's no way you'll be able to drive it back to town. I'm afraid we'll have to leave both the buggy and Daisy here for a while because my truck is full of lumber. I can't carry anything.”

The idea of deserting Daisy filled me with despair. What if the man in the red truck returned? What would happen to her? Even if he didn't come back, she was frightened. I couldn't just drive away and leave her alone. The tears I'd
been fighting reappeared, and I shook my head. “No. I'll ride her home.”

Jonathon looked at me with concern. “I don't think that's a good idea. You seem pretty shaken.”

He was right, but I had no choice. Daisy was my friend and she needed me. I dabbed at my eyes again and forced myself to laugh lightly. “I'm sorry. I was a little rattled at first, but I'm calm now. Daisy and I will be fine.” I climbed out of the truck and stood in the road, trying to put on a brave face. Unfortunately, the dust stirred up by the dueling trucks was still swirling in the air. A spasm of coughing hit me. The warmth of the afternoon added to my discomfort.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he patted me on the back.

All I could do was hold up my hand to signal I was fine. I must not have been clear enough because Jonathon continued slapping me lightly. Finally I caught my breath.

“I really should be getting back,” I said in a raspy voice. “Papa is probably wondering where I am.”

He stopped thumping me. “If you insist on riding Daisy home, I'm going to follow behind you.”

I felt myself flush, embarrassed by his attention.

I shook my head. “You don't need to do that.”

“I don't want to hear another word about it, Hope. Some of the things I've heard in Clay Center chilled me to the bone. Maybe the person driving that truck was just trying to annoy you, but what if it was more than that? What if he was purposely trying to hit you? I won't leave you on this road alone.”

“All right. I appreciate it.” I put my hand over my eyes, trying to shield them from the sun, which was shining brightly,
nearly blinding me. “My friend in Washington believes everyone in Kingdom needs to be very careful right now. Until this happened, I have to admit I thought her warning didn't really apply to us. But now . . .”

Jonathon's expression was grim. “A lot of folks in town are aware of the problem, but like you, I guess we've felt it wasn't a direct threat to us. I have to wonder if what just happened proves we were wrong.” He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair. “If I hadn't offered to pick up supplies for Noah, I wouldn't have been here and . . .”

Even though we were standing in the sun, a shiver ran down my spine. Neither one of us needed to finish his thought. We both knew that the results could have been more serious.

“I-I guess we'd better head home.” I started to walk toward Daisy, who was standing nearby.

“Are you sure about this, Sister Kauffman? You still look a little pale.”

I smiled. “I'm afraid you can't use my skin tone as a way to measure my condition. I'm always pale.”

He chuckled, helping to break a little of the tension. I felt warm at the sound of his laughter. It was deep and genuine. He reached up and pushed a lock of hair from his forehead. I felt my pulse race as he looked at me. The color of his eyes reminded me of the forget-me-nots that grew wild on the side of the road leading into Kingdom.

Jonathon stirred up emotions inside me that were hard to comprehend, especially in light of my engagement to Ebenezer Miller, the young man I planned to marry at the end of June.

“It feels strange for you to call me Sister Kauffman.” I
wondered if he realized he hadn't used the formal greeting until now. “It seems rather decorous for a man who is so opposed to tradition.”

He grinned. “I'm not opposed to all traditions, just the ones that don't make sense. Conventions that don't bring us any closer to God.”

“And does calling me Sister bring you closer to God?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Point taken, Hope. I'll work on it, but if I slip once in a while, I'll trust you to remind me.”

“Don't worry, I will. Jonathon, you mentioned Clay Center. What happened there?”

“A pastor's house was set on fire, and two local churches were bombed.”

I gulped. “Did you say
bombed
?”

“Yes, homemade bombs called Molotov cocktails.”

“I don't believe I've ever heard the term before. What does it mean?”

“Molotov cocktails are bottles filled with gasoline or some other flammable substance. Then something else, like a piece of cloth, is soaked in the same liquid and stuffed into the bottle. After it's lighted, it's thrown at a target. It explodes just like a bomb.”

I shuddered. “What an evil thing to do. Someone could be seriously injured or killed.”

“The house and the churches were vacant when they were struck, so it's hard to tell if the bomber was trying to hurt people or just destroy property. But it's obvious someone could have been hurt . . . or worse.” The sun shone right in Jonathon's face, and he squinted at me. “That's precisely
why I'm following you home. Until whoever is behind these attacks is caught, I think it might be best if you stay in town. I'll grab a couple of men, and we'll come back for your buggy.”

“We have to pray that this was an isolated incident and that Kingdom is still safe. Quite a few of us have been out on this road, and no one has been attacked before today. Maybe it had nothing to do with what's going on in neighboring towns. Perhaps it was a teenager who thought it would be fun to run a Mennonite woman off the road.”

Jonathon frowned. “I guess it's possible, but even if that's true, we need to be careful. I think it would be best if our people stay close to home for a while.”

I still wasn't convinced it was necessary, but I had to agree that it might be wise to use caution. “I'll certainly heed your advice,” I said, trying once again to push my hair back from my face. “But I have to wonder how long we'll have to cower in Kingdom, afraid to leave.”

“I don't think it's cowering. We just need to be cautious. You could have been killed, Hope. If anything ever happened to you . . .”

I was so surprised by his words that I swung my eyes downward, afraid my expression would betray my emotions. For some reason my hair suddenly felt like it weighed too much for my head. I wanted desperately to put it back in its bun so I'd feel better. Safer. “What else can we do besides hide? We're taught not to resist violence.”

He was quiet for a moment, and I looked up so I could see his face. He was staring at me with an odd expression. “Well, we're instructed not to resist evil with violence, but the Scriptures are clear that we are to resist the enemy. The
question is, how do we do that?” He shook his head. “Some in our community believe we're not to do anything but pray. I don't know if I can accept that, and I think there are others who agree with me. In light of what's happening, it seems prudent to find a way to keep our town safe. When I get back, I'm going to talk to a few people. See if we can come up with a plan to protect our borders.”

Before I had a chance to think it through, I blurted out, “I'll help you, Jonathon.” I immediately felt foolish. Why had I said that? “I-I mean . . . Well, you probably don't want women . . .”

His easy laughter embarrassed me. Did he think I was silly? He reached out and briefly touched the side of my face, but then he quickly jerked his hand away as if my cheek were hot to the touch. “I would be honored to include you, but I'd rather you didn't tell your father. I'm afraid his opposition would make things . . . difficult.”

I tossed my head back. “I'm twenty-six years old. Old enough to make my own decisions. My father doesn't need to know every single thing I do.”

He looked up at the sun beating down on us. “Let's talk about this later. Right now we need to get you home.”

I nodded. “All right. Thank you, Jonathon.”

First he got my packages out of the storage box and put them in his truck. Then he led Daisy over to me. He stood next to her, putting his fingers together like a stirrup. I hoisted my skirt up, put my left foot in his hands, and jumped up onto Daisy's back.

“You sure you can ride her without a saddle?” he asked once I was seated.

“I grew up on horses. Riding bareback is second nature to me.” I didn't tell him that riding bareback was something I'd done as a child, not as a grown woman.

Daisy was still skittish from our narrow escape, and I could feel her tremble beneath me. I reached down and ran my hand along her neck trying to calm her.

“It's okay, girl,” I said softly. “Everything's all right. We're going home now.” As I talked, she became quieter. When she was ready, I sat up straight, my skirt pulled up and tucked under me. It wasn't very dignified, but unless I wanted to ride sidesaddle, something I wasn't used to, it was my only choice. I couldn't imagine what I looked like, dirty and scraped up, my hair undone, sitting on top of a horse.

“Are you ready?” Jonathon asked, his tone hesitant.

“I'm fine. It might be a good idea to keep some distance between us though. I don't want the sound of your engine to frighten Daisy. She's never minded it before, but I'm not sure how she'll react now.”

Instead of going straight to his truck, he stood there a moment as if he wanted to say something else. Finally, he just shook his head and smiled. “You're quite a woman, Hope. I've never known anyone like you. You seem so quiet and meek, but you have such great inner strength. I wish . . .”

I quickly looked away, fearing we might be headed to a place we shouldn't go. “We . . . we'd better get going.”

After hesitating a few more seconds, he turned and walked to his truck while I began to urge Daisy forward. She faltered some and then began to walk slowly. Before long, her stride became more confident, her gait steady.