Abigail's New Hope (The Wayne County Series) Read online

  Abby looked shocked at first, but she smiled when she gazed on Laura and Jake playing on the swings. “Danki, but you shouldn’t have done this.” She tucked the photo into her pocket.

  “It’s time. Let’s go, folks.” A harsh voice made the announcement over the loud speaker.

  Daniel’s heart dropped into his stomach. There was so much he’d wanted to say, but he had used the time to prod, complain, and deliver advice. “We all miss you, fraa—me most of all, and not just your cooking. Please don’t be stubborn or willful. Come back to your family.”

  “It’s not my choice that I remain here, Daniel. There is the small matter of half a million dollars.”

  He struggled to his feet, while she rose with the smooth grace of a swan. “I’ll do what I can,” he said. “You have my word.”

  “Tell Catherine I am in her debt. And be patient with her, ehemann. She has a gentle spirit and is easily hurt by strong words.” Abby offered a smile and walked toward the metal door across the room, calm and composed.

  What goes on in this loathsome place that has so affected my wife?

  Seven

  Catherine had mulled over the recluse last night while waiting for sleep to come, as she had each evening since seeing his tidy cabin in the woods. During the last couple of days she had set out his meals as she’d been instructed. Yet, despite her attempts to get a look at him, the man evaded observance. She had been in the cellar washing clothes, breaking up a dispute between siblings, or cleaning up after dinner when he claimed his meal. Now, as the sun rose over dew-kissed fields and purple-hued hills, Isaiah Graber again occupied her thoughts. She washed and dressed quickly because Daniel liked his breakfast early, and then she checked on Laura and Jake in each of their small bedrooms. Laura’s faceless doll had fallen to the floor and the sheet had tangled around her legs. Jake’s nightshirt was sodden with perspiration because she’d forgotten to open the window in his room. Yet both slept the deep slumber of those who knew no worries in life.

  She pulled Jake’s thumb from his mouth and pushed damp hair back from his brow. He barely stirred in his dreams. She paused to utter a silent prayer to be shown the correct course in her sister’s home, a way to serve without her own will getting in the way. Once the matter of her adjustment was turned over to God, she headed downstairs with a lighter heart.

  In the kitchen she found that Daniel had already started coffee. Another note—the fourth since her arrival—waited for her on the table:

  Gone out to milk cows. Be back around six thirty for breakfast. Get kinner up around that time. Don’t let them sleep in so late.

  Catherine poured a cup of coffee and then began frying a pound of bacon and chopping peppers, onions, and tomatoes for the eggs. She mixed orange juice; peeled, diced, and boiled potatoes for hash browns; and toasted half a loaf of the whole wheat bread she’d baked yesterday. By the time she heard the screen door slam, signaling Daniel’s arrival, cheese was melting over the omelet while crisp bacon drained on paper towels. Catherine dumped the seasoned potatoes into a sizzling skillet.

  Daniel shrugged out of his chore coat and toed off his boots in the back hall. “Something smells good,” he said, entering the kitchen.

  She buttered another slice of toast, adding it the stack already on the table. “Laura, please get your bruder from the front room. It’s time to eat.” She turned to Daniel. “I got them up twenty minutes ago.”

  Daniel poured himself coffee and topped off her mug. “Those two would sleep till noon if you’d let them,” he said. His eyes widened as she set the platter of bacon and bowl of eggs on the table and nearly bugged from his head when she carried over the hash browns. “Good grief, Catherine. This is a lot of food for an ordinary Wednesday,” he said. “Bacon and eggs or toast and oatmeal will suffice in the future.”

  “Good to know,” she murmured as they bowed their heads in prayer.

  Once the Graber family began eating, Catherine surreptitiously glanced out the window to the back porch. “It looks like rain. Do you think we should invite Isaiah inside for breakfast? We don’t want him or his food getting wet.” She concentrated on pouring milk for the youngsters.

  “Nice of you to worry, but that porch has a roof. His food will stay perfectly dry until he comes up to eat.” He scooped a hearty portion of fried potatoes. “I don’t think Abigail has ever made spuds like these. They’re very good,” he said after sampling a forkful. He preferred his eggs without all the peppers, onions, and who-knew-what-else, but he remembered Abby’s request for patience and kindness toward her sister. He took five strips of bacon, just to be polite.

  “Danki. A little bacon grease adds plenty of flavor.” She ate almost twice her usual amount just to keep herself from asking questions about Daniel’s shy cousin. Laura ate some eggs but spent most of her time pushing onion and peppers to the side of her plate. Jake played with his bacon strips, trying to stand them on end.

  “Jake usually eats corn flakes, Aunt Catherine,” said Laura. “Is it all right if I pour him a bowl?” She looked from one adult to the other. Catherine also glanced at Daniel, uncertain of the correct reply.

  “Jah, go ahead,” Daniel said to his daughter. Then to his son he said, “Stop playing and eat your bacon, Jake. You always eat mamm’s. And drink your milk and juice.” He returned to his own breakfast as though competing in a race. “If you should need me today, I’ll be out in the east fields spreading manure.”

  She knew what manure-spreading days smelled like, so barring an emergency she planned to stay indoors with the east-facing windows closed. “I’ll catch up on laundry in the morning and save ironing for the afternoon. By three o’clock a breeze usually picks up from the south, cooling off the front room. Let me fill your thermos with coffee.” She rose from the table as he walked into the hallway.

  “Put a couple extra sandwiches in Isaiah’s cooler for my lunch too. That’ll save me from coming to the house and interrupting my work.”

  Catherine followed him to the door, carrying the thermos. “I’ll put plenty in the cooler bag.” She watched him pull on boots and grab his hat.

  “Before I forget, your sister sends her regards and thanks you for filling in for her. She will write another letter soon.”

  Her chest tightened around her heart until it became painful to breathe. “Does she look well?”

  “Like I told you last night, she looks as well as can be expected.” He opened the door and peered up. “There’s barely a cloud in the sky. I think you’re mistaken about your forecast of rain.” He reached for his thermos and hurried down the steps.

  Actually, he’d told her little since his return from visiting Abby in Wooster. He’d rambled on about the charges being more serious than they had thought, and that he needed to talk to her father after Sunday’s preaching service—updates about the unfortunate circumstances, but not much about her beloved sister. Yet Catherine knew Daniel missed his wife terribly. Several times his eyes had filled with tears while relaying the details of his trip.

  Catherine loaded a plate with eggs, potatoes, and several pieces of bacon, and then she topped the mound with four slices of buttered toast. She balanced the breakfast on her forearm so she could carry mugs of coffee and juice to the porch too. But her mind was on Abby. How she must suffer away from her family, surrounded by dangerous Englischers. As Catherine pushed open the screen door with her backside, she hadn’t expected to find Isaiah at the table, waiting with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. She nearly dropped his plate of food.

  For several moments they merely stared at each other. Time suspended as she took in his unusual appearance—long, straight hair combed back from his face without the customary bangs, a tanned complexion with nearly black eyes, and large muscular arms and hands. Because Amish men wear wide-brimmed hat and long sleeves, they seldom became tanned. However, both of Isaiah’s shirtsleeves had been torn off above the elbow. She gasped, even though she had seen men’s arms before.

  H
e gasped too, several times. Then she realized he wasn’t gasping but speaking to her. “Guder mariye,” she greeted.

  He voiced a similar pattern of sounds.

  She repeated again the Deutsch words for “good morning.”

  He grinned and issued the same strange, guttural sounds.

  Catherine realized he was trying to mimic her words. She set his breakfast on the table and pulled off the plastic wrap. “Eggs,” she said, indicating the appropriate food on the plate. She chose the easier-to-say English word and exaggerated its pronunciation with lips and facial contortion.

  “Agggs,” he repeated and speared a forkful to eat.

  She nodded, smiling enthusiastically. “Bay-conn.” She pointed to the food and repeated the English word several times.

  Isaiah tried to emulate her pronunciation with little success. It seemed as though his lips couldn’t form the correct position. She tried just the first syllable, shaping and then relaxing her mouth. Each time she would point at her lips while saying the syllable. She felt like a fish in an aquarium trying to gulp a large amount of algae.

  He watched her curiously. Then he picked up a slice of bacon and shoved it into his mouth. Catherine slipped onto the other bench and allowed him to eat while the food remained warm. As he forked up some hashed browns, she said “poe-tay-toes” with slow, deliberate enunciation.

  He swallowed his food, drank some coffee, and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Pah-tah-tohs,” he parroted. This time when he repeated her word, the approximation was very close to the correct sounds.

  Catherine pointed at the other items on the table—knife, fork, plate, mug, and lantern. But Isaiah had tired of her game and ate his breakfast without watching her distorted expressions. From time to time he looked up and smacked his lips and rubbed his belly.

  She accepted the gestures as high compliment. “Gut?” she asked.

  “Gut,” he agreed.

  When he smiled, thin lines webbed his eyes, probably from not wearing his hat in the hot sun. She judged his age to be between twenty and twenty-five years old. Catherine pointed to the center of his chest. “Eye-zay-ahh,” she enunciated.

  “Eyes-zah,” he repeated.

  She attempted to stretch his name into three syllables without success. He grew restless and hooked a thumb to his chest. “Eyes-zah,” he said firmly, leaving no room for discussion.

  She changed the conversation to her own name. “Cath-ther-inn,” she said, pointing at herself. She repeated the name three times. He studied her and then shrugged his shoulders. “Cat,” he said, as though anything longer wasn’t worth the effort. He finished the mug of juice in two long swallows.

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Close enough. That’s what my brothers call me anyway.”

  While Isaiah ate, a crow in the apple tree by the steps cawed loud enough for Catherine to jump. But Isaiah didn’t move a muscle with the unexpected noise.

  Because he didn’t hear a thing, she thought. If her intuition was correct, Daniel’s cousin was stone deaf. To test her theory, she blocked her mouth with her hands and began reciting the breakfast foods on the top of her lungs. The young man didn’t glance up from his meal. However, her bizarre behavior did not go unnoticed.

  “What are you doing out here?” Daniel asked. He walked onto the porch, letting the screen door slam behind him.

  “I thought you went to the barn,” she said without thinking.

  “I came looking for Isaiah. I need his help.”

  Isaiah sipped his coffee, looking from one to the other with mild interest.

  “Oh, Daniel. I’ve discovered he’s deaf.” Catherine turned her face to whisper, not wishing to be rude to the young man.

  Daniel crossed his arms over a soiled jacket. “That’s not much of a discovery. His mamm figured that out years ago.”

  “But don’t you see? I can teach him. With my past experience as a nanny, I can help him.” Excitement swelled inside her as possibilities flooded her mind.

  “Help him do what, Catherine? He will till between the soybean rows today, and later he’ll help me plant a late crop of corn. He doesn’t need help with his chores. He already knows what to do. But if he decides to become a bank teller in Wooster, I’ll let you know.”

  Catherine chewed on her lip to keep from responding to Daniel’s sarcasm.

  “Isaiah.” Daniel touched his shoulder because a squirrel in the bird feeder had diverted his attention. “Hurry up and finish eating.” Daniel made a chopping motion with one hand against his forearm.

  “That is not ‘hurry up’ in sign language,” Catherine said quietly.

  Daniel looked surprised before his expression faded. “Maybe not, but he and I understand each other and that’s what matters.” He pointed at his cousin and then the barn, and made another chopping motion.

  Isaiah nodded with comprehension, scraping the rest of his eggs onto toast to eat like a sandwich. He rose from the picnic table with the grace of a mountain lion.

  “I could teach him to communicate,” she insisted as her stubborn streak made an appearance.

  “We’ll discuss this another time, Catherine. Right now I have work to do.” Daniel strode from the porch without another word.

  She stared at his retreating back and started counting to ten. Before she got very far, Isaiah reached out to tug one of her ribbons. He yanked so hard he pulled her kapp askew. After uttering a grunt, he picked up the egg sandwich and loped off the porch. He might have been saying danki or perhaps the grunt had been only indigestion.

  Catherine straightened her kapp and hollered, “You’re welcome” in both English and Deutsch. She watched him follow Daniel toward the barn like a dog that had been chastised for chasing a rabbit. Halfway down the path, he turned and waved at her. She waved back like a tourist from a bus window, and then she hurried into the kitchen to start her morning chores.

  As she washed dishes, swept floors, and put loads of laundry through the propane washer, ideas swam through her mind. Her years as a nanny for an English family would come in handy. Both of the youngsters, a set of twins, had been born deaf. Catherine had learned sign language to communicate with them. Once the twins learned to read lips, she had to remember to face them squarely while speaking. Although she never became as proficient as their mother, Catherine usually understood their speech patterns. Many words were difficult to master if a person had never heard the correct pronunciation. When the children turned eight, the family moved to Cleveland so that the twins could receive a better education than what their rural district offered.

  Catherine still had the booklet she’d used to learn sign language. If she wrote to her younger sister, Meghan would send it to her. What if Isaiah wasn’t simpleminded? What if his brain operated perfectly well, but he hadn’t learned to communicate with his fellow man? Plain schools adequately prepared students to farm, keep house, and work in shops, factories, or construction trades. Apprenticeships taught skills such as woodworking, weaving, roofing, carpentry, and plumbing to young people. But for those with handicaps, Amish schools were woefully inadequate.

  In the early afternoon Catherine put Jake down for a nap under a shady tree and gave Laura green beans to snap on the porch. She needed to hang the last load of wet laundry. The Graber yard sloped away from the house, and someone had installed a clever system of lines and pulleys between the house and the eave of the barn. From the side porch, a person could pin clothes on the line and send them out to flap in the breeze up high and away from the people below. It was an ingenious set-up—unless a kink in the rope jammed the pulley—as was the case now. She could neither haul back the dry clothes to fold, nor hang the last load of wet garments. After several attempts to unjam the pulley, Catherine marched to the cobwebby cellar to hunt for a stepladder. She dared not interrupt Daniel with his chores.

  When she returned fifteen minutes later without finding a ladder, the pulley was operating smoothly. The load of towels and blankets on the line had been
taken down, folded, and set in the basket. Someone had also left a nosegay of daisies on the porch steps.

  Simpleminded, my foot, she thought. Holding the wildflowers to her nose, she arched up on tiptoes to scan the pasture, the vegetable garden, and the cornfield for her elusive admirer. She saw no one.

  Catherine felt a stirring in her heart—a heart long thought shriveled and dormant from disuse. But she knew better than to fan the small flame of hope. Daniel Graber would never allow a friendship to grow between her and his protected cousin.

  Each day Abby awoke to a different world than the one she’d known on her farm. Her jail cell was really a sparse room with two bunk beds, a toilet, and a small sink. She could take a shower down the hall, but no bathtub had been provided for muscle-soothing soaks. Between ten p.m. and six a.m., she and her roommate were locked inside, but their door remained open throughout the day. During the first hour of the morning, they cleaned their cell, which was then submitted to an inspection at seven fifteen. Each prisoner wore the same dull green jumpsuit emblazoned with “Wayne County Jail” in case she forgot where she was. Her roommate referred to their accommodations as Hotel Wooster. Inmates who earned the deputies’ trust washed everyone’s clothes in the laundry room down the hall. Women who possessed culinary talents prepared their meals. Other trustworthy inmates washed the dishes. Abigail wasn’t awarded any chore to relieve her boredom.

  After breakfast, while the other women watched TV in the common room or exercised, Abby closed her door and read her Bible. After Daniel’s last visit, she continued to study the Old Testament. In the book of Leviticus, God called Moses from the tabernacle and gave him detailed instructions regarding how the Israelites were to live. There were complex procedures for burnt offerings, grain offerings, and peace, sin, and guilt offerings; complex rules about unclean animals, people, and houses; specific ways to celebrate holidays and festivals; and what constituted disobedience. The punishment usually was death. By comparison, the Amish Ordnung no longer seemed difficult to follow.