Marta Perry - Danger In Amish Country

She said it with such confidence that Rachel looked impressed. Maybe she could accept from her teacher what she couldn’t from him.

“Are you sure?”

Sara nodded. “And I’ll tell you why I’m sure about it. Because when my brother was younger, he climbed right up those rocks one day, clear to the top. And he didn’t see anything else. Just rocks, because that’s all they are. All right?”

“If you say so, Teacher Sara.”

At first Caleb feared his daughter was just trying to say what she knew her teacher wanted to hear, but as Rachel leaned back on the pillow, he could see the relaxation in her face.

“Now I’m going to tell you a real story about the time I went to pick blackberries with my brother,” Sara said. “And you’re going to close your eyes and try to see all the things I tell you.”

Sara began a story, her voice soft, the words repetitious. The tale grew slower, her tone more gentle as Rachel slid into sleep. Finally Sara eased herself off the bed. She tucked the quilt over Rachel and bent to kiss her forehead.

The simple gesture seemed to seize his heart. He got to his feet as Sara slipped from the room.

“You heard?” she whispered.

He nodded. “We’d best go downstairs and talk about it.”

To say nothing of deciding what exactly they would tell Chief O’Brian.

* * *

Sara followed Caleb downstairs, her mind busy fitting the pieces together. He paused at the bottom, nodding to where his uncle slept in the rocking chair, newspaper draped across his lap.

In silent agreement, they moved into the kitchen. It was better to talk about what they’d learned from Rachel without an audience.

The kitchen was utilitarian, with no flowers blooming on the windowsills or colorful calendars on the walls. Even though the Amish didn’t believe in useless ornamentation, a woman usually made her kitchen a warm, cozy place through a dozen little touches. Josiah’s wife had been gone a long time now, and he wasn’t one to bother with what his house looked like.

Caleb pulled out a chair for Sara at the kitchen table and sat down opposite her. She studied his face, looking for a clue to his feelings.

“At least now we know what Rachel saw.” His voice was heavy with regret. “For my child to see a person fall to his death... No wonder she’s been having nightmares.”

“And no wonder she didn’t want to say anything. I suppose trying to talk about it made it too real. But bad as it is, it sounds as if Kovatch fell accidentally, don’t you think?” Sara tried to cling to the one bright spot in the whole business.

Caleb frowned. “That’s not what Rachel thinks. She said the other man pointed at him and made him fall.”

“Ya, but...” Sara struggled to make it fit. “We know he wasn’t shot. It might have been coincidental, his pointing just when Kovatch tripped.”

Caleb shifted restlessly in his chair, as if possessed of the need to do something, anything, to resolve this tangle. “If that’s so, why hasn’t the other man come forward?”

“I can’t imagine.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “To see someone fall and not try to get help for him—that’s incredible.”

“If the two of them were up to no good, I suppose that might account for it,” Caleb said. “At least that’s for the police to figure out.”

She nodded. This was one situation she’d be happy to leave to the authorities. “Chief O’Brian said he’d stop by my daed’s tonight to hear what I learned.” She hesitated, not sure he was going to like what else she had to say. “Daed also insisted we must inform the bishop, before he hears about my being involved from someone else.”

Caleb’s lips tightened, but he nodded. “I can understand his wanting to explain the police being at his house. It’s not what we’re used to.”

Nothing about this situation was remotely common in her usually quiet life, that was certain sure. “I’m sure Rachel has told all she knows, and that’s what I’ll say to Chief O’Brian. There’s no point in his troubling her with any questions.”

“Ya. Danki, Sara,” he added.

“As for her confusing the Old Man of the cliff with the person she saw, that’s probably natural at her age. Most likely she heard one of the kinner say something about Der Alte shortly before she saw the accident and mixed them up in her mind.”

Caleb nodded, but he didn’t really look relieved. She could hardly blame him.

“You did a gut job of reassuring her. I’m grateful to you, Sara.” The bleakness of his face extended to his eyes. “I could not have done as well. I couldn’t even get her to tell me.”

His pain seemed to wrench her heart. He needed reassurance as much as Rachel had, it seemed. “Sometimes it’s easier for a child to talk to someone other than a parent, that’s all. I remember telling my mammi things I didn’t want to tell Mamm.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t look comforted. “My little Rachel has had so much sorrow in her life, with her mamm sick for so long. But at least we used to be close. Since her mamm died, she’s been so withdrawn.”

“Even when we know it’s coming, death is a shock.” Sara picked her words carefully. “And children get funny ideas sometimes about what caused it.”

“I thought bringing her here would help her forget.” The words came out explosively, and his hands clenched into fists. “Instead I made it worse.”

“Ach, Caleb, you mustn’t blame yourself.” She touched his taut fist tentatively, wanting only to comfort him. “I don’t think it’s possible to forget the passing of those we love, even for a child.” She hesitated, afraid she might be going too far, but he needed help so badly. “Have you talked with her about it?”

He seemed to draw away. “Not much.” His voice was choked. “It’s too hard.”

Her heart ached for him and for Rachel. “I know. But it might help Rachel heal if you could talk, even a little, about how you feel.”

“No.” His facial expression seemed to close and his voice grew harsh. “I won’t expose her to my grief. She’s only a child. Don’t you see that?”

“I know. I just want to help,” she said, keeping her tone gentle. If he had to be angry with someone over what had happened, it might as well be her.

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his hand over his face, as if trying to chase away the tension. “I should not have snapped at you. You are the best thing that’s happened since we came here. For Rachel, I mean,” he added quickly.

“She’s a dear child. How could I help loving her?”

Caleb almost smiled. “You have plenty of love for your scholars. Anyone can see that. But you haven’t...” He let that sentence die out, but she suspected she knew where it had been headed.

“Haven’t married?” She wouldn’t hide from it, as if it had been her fault. “I was supposed to be wed once. But it seemed Tommy always had something to do first—finish his apprenticeship, save some money, get experience with a job in Ohio—and then when he did marry, it was to someone else.”

It was his turn to touch her hand now. “He must have been ferhoodled.”

She shrugged. “Folks thought I should be heartbroken. But by then, I was busy with my teaching. I found my happiness with my scholars, and I didn’t look for anything else.”

She still didn’t, did she? She was suddenly aware of how alone they were in the quiet kitchen, with Caleb’s hand clasping hers so warmly.

“I...I should go home,” she stammered. “They’ll be wondering why I’m so long.”

“Ya.” He let go of her hand and stood, turning to take her jacket from the hook on the wall. “I don’t like thinking of you driving back by yourself.”