Sarah's Christmas Miracle Page 9

  High on the wall hung “eastbound” and “westbound” maps with the stops along each route indicated. Sarah felt a surge of adrenaline when she spotted the West Boulevard-Cudell station on the Red Line—the stop nearest Davenport Street. I’m getting close…that much closer to my bruder.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  Sarah turned to face a security guard. “I’d like to take the Red Line.”

  He nodded, walking her over to a machine. “Five dollars will buy an all-day pass. You can ride as much as you like. Just put your money in and press the All-Day button.”

  Sarah withdrew a five-dollar bill and studied the contraption, but she couldn’t figure out where the money should go.

  “Here, let me show you.” The guard plucked the bill from her fingers.

  She watched him insert it into the machine, press a button, and take the ticket that popped out.

  “If you stay longer than twenty-four hours, these kiosks are at every station. Now watch how those people feed their tickets into the turnstile. And be sure to take the ticket with you when it comes back out.”

  Sarah ran to the Red Line turnstiles as though late for school with the guard close on her heels. He didn’t leave her side until she emerged on the other side with her ticket in hand. “Listen for your stop,” he called with hands cupped around his mouth.

  She waved and grinned until her face hurt. When the train stopped at the platform, Sarah and the other commuters surged aboard like cattle into livestock trailers. Seats filled up quickly with the nimbler travelers, so she grasped a metal pole as they rattled out of the underground station. Soon the train careened back into daylight as she was jostled between other riders. She dipped her head for a glimpse of the city whenever the train rose higher than the deep valley it followed.

  “West Boulevard-Cudell, next stop,” announced the overhead speaker.

  “That’s my stop,” she said to no one in particular.

  “Better stand by the door so you’re ready when it opens,” advised a girl with dozens of skinny braids. She bobbed her head to the left.

  “Thanks,” Sarah said, moving into position. When the train lurched to a stop and the door opened, she jumped onto the platform, away from transportation that seemed to operate without human direction. Several people gave her odd looks as they climbed the stairs to street level. Under a streetlight, Sarah studied her map to regain her bearing. Only a few blocks separated her from Caleb’s last known address. She strode off at a brisk pace as daylight slipped away. With the snowstorm and the year’s shortest day in less than two weeks, darkness soon enveloped her in a neighborhood of boarded-up windows, sagging porches, and few shoveled sidewalks.

  The cold pervaded her wool coat, thick socks, and ankle-length skirt. Her knit gloves and leather boots were no match for the slush tossed onto sidewalks from passing cars. Sarah’s nose began to run as her spirits flagged.

  What if Caleb doesn’t want to see me? What if he shuts the door in my face? Or what if he no longer lives at his most recent address? That possibility had occurred to her back home, but she assumed new tenants would provide a current address. Now, walking the lonely streets and seeing few friendly faces, she realized the folly of her logic. A seed of fear began to grow in her empty belly. She’d eaten mamm’s sandwiches, potato chips, and fruit long ago. Where would she spend the night if Caleb no longer resided at 885 Davenport Street?

  When she reached that address, she discovered a large brick apartment building instead of a house. Soot and grime had discolored the exterior, and the windowsills badly needed painting, but a ghost of its former glory still remained.

  When a mother and child emerged through the front door, Sarah darted in before it closed behind them. A board of buttons hung on the wall, with names on cards beside each one. She looked at button after button until her focus landed on “C. Beachy, 314.” Her breath caught in her throat. “Danki, Lord, that he hasn’t moved again,” she whispered.

  Hesitantly, she pushed his button and waited. The interior door began to buzz jarringly. On impulse, she pulled the handle before the noise stopped. Ahead lay a narrow hallway with several doors, and on the right a wide staircase. She climbed the steps to the third floor feeling cold, tired, wet, hungry, and hopeful. She crept down a dingy hallway with carpeting that hadn’t been cleaned in a decade, finally pausing at number 314. Would he even remember his bleed madchen? Would he be angry she had tracked him down?

  Sarah knocked and waited. She lifted her hand to knock again when the metal door swung wide and her brother appeared in the doorway, holding a letter in his hand. He looked much thinner with short curly hair and a scruffy beard. But it was Caleb Beachy—his warm brown eyes fringed with thick lashes hadn’t changed. “Caleb?” she asked softly.

  “Sarah? Is that really you or am I dreaming?” He leaned against the doorjamb, gazing down on her.

  “It’s me. Mind if I come in? I’m freezing.”

  Cal straightened and moved back. “Sorry, come on in. You gave me quite a shock.”

  “I s’pose so.” Sarah stepped past him into a cluttered apartment with dingy walls and worn carpet that smelled faintly sour.

  “Don’t mind the place. The cleaning lady called in sick this week.” He grabbed a stack of newspapers from one end of the sofa.

  She glanced up to make certain he was joking. “Most men aren’t very tidy,” she murmured, shrugging off her coat.

  Cal looked alarmed when he reached for the garment. “This coat is soaking wet! You’ll catch pneumonia if we don’t get you warmed up.” He pulled her over to a steam radiator, turned the valve fully open, and yanked off her soggy bonnet. Droplets of water flew in all directions. “Take off those boots while I get some dry socks,” he ordered, laying her coat and hat across a chair to dry.

  Ten minutes later, Sarah sat sipping black coffee in a huge sweatshirt over her dress with thick socks up to her knees. Cal turned up the heat in the apartment until her teeth had stopped chattering.

  “So, how do you like living in Cleveland?” She peered around the room, trying not to wrinkle her nose.

  “I love it! There’re so many things to do. Okay, this place isn’t the best, but you should have seen my first apartment…beautiful! I’ll be moving outta here as soon as construction picks up. Bad economy, dead of winter. You know how things are.”

  Actually, she didn’t know. Work remained constant within her limited experience. “Why are there so many abandoned houses in your neighborhood?” she asked.

  “The real estate bubble—people buying homes they couldn’t afford to resell for quick profits. Then the bank financing dried up, and they were foreclosed on.”

  Sarah chewed her lip. “Why would they buy homes they couldn’t pay for?”

  “It’s hard to explain. Instead, tell me how you got here.” Cal refilled her coffee mug.

  She recounted her trip on Greyhound and the Rapid Transit, including the incredible display on Public Square. “It looked very festive, but that many lights must cost a pretty penny in electricity. I saw plenty of better uses for the city’s money, like sidewalk shoveling.”

  Cal scratched his ear. “Yeah, but the lights get folks in the mood for Christmas.”

  “Everybody was rushing by so fast, I think I was the only one who appreciated the Nativity scene.”

  “That’s not true. People come downtown just to see the displays. Your ten-minute crowd assessment isn’t fair.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Annoying my bruder is not why I came. She rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen for milk to take the edge off the bitter coffee. But when she opened his refrigerator, a foul smell assailed her senses. “No milk, Cal?” she asked, trying not to gag.

  “No. If I’d known about your visit, I would have gone shopping.” Cal leaned around her to shut the door with his elbow.

  Sarah faced him. “You have practically no food whatsoever. And I noticed you’ve lost weight.” The emaciated state of both the apart
ment and her brother had set off alarms in her head. How long has he been out of work?

  “I told you I hadn’t gone grocery shopping.”

  She crossed her arms. “But I see you have a six-pack of beer in there.”

  Cal reared back. “I didn’t buy that, Sarah. Why have you come—to criticize me or pass judgment on my life? I’m not Amish anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Sarah walked back to the living room radiator. “Are you anything at all? I mean, do you attend church up here?” She attempted to sound conversational.

  He exhaled through his teeth, exasperated. “No, little sister, I don’t go to church. God seems to have forgotten me.”

  Time and silence spun out in the room. Then quietly she said, “Maybe it’s you who have forgotten God.”

  Emotions of anger, sorrow, and finally resignation crossed his face in succession. “Whatever you say. Are you hungry? I have pizza that’s still good. A friend brought it over today. Let’s have it for supper.”

  “Jah, danki,” she said, wondering if he’d heard her stomach rumbling.

  Cal carried a pizza box, two Cokes, and paper napkins to a wobbly kitchen table.

  Sarah ate two slices, trying not to pepper him with questions.

  But Cal had his own questions once they finished eating. “What do you want? I know you came for a reason.”

  She blushed to the roots of her damp hair. “I want to know why you left Wayne County. It’s important to me because I’m thinking of getting married and having kids someday.”

  He stared out the window at the falling snow and chose his words carefully. “It was all about money,” he said. “I couldn’t believe how much union carpenters got paid. They drove trucks loaded with every gadget and could eat in restaurants every single day. I thought I’d try life as an Englischer for a while…just to get it out of my system before I settled down. I always thought I’d come home after a year or two.” He glanced at her with tired, dark-ringed eyes.

  “So why didn’t you, especially after the good-paying work dried up?” She reached for his hand, but he pulled away.

  “Because things happen, Sarah, things you know nothing about. They have made going home impossible.”

  “Nothing should separate you from your family, not if—”

  “Oh, really?” he interrupted. “And what do you think daed would say about this?” He rolled up his shirtsleeve to reveal a large colorful tattoo on his bicep. It was a heart entwined with snakes surrounding a woman’s name.

  She gasped involuntarily.

  “That’s not all. Once I got drunk on a Saturday night and woke up in a stranger’s…home. And I’ve wasted more money in a month on foolishness than daed earns in a year.”

  “Oh, Caleb.” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I don’t want your pity. I’ve made my choices, and I will live with the consequences.” He stood. “I’ve answered your questions, and you have what you came for. Tomorrow I’ll take you back to the bus depot. There’s nothing more for you here, little sister.”

  He looked so angry, she felt fortunate he didn’t turn her out on the street. “Danki for letting me stay the night.”

  Perhaps it was her use of a Deutsch word, but his expression turned sad. He looked far older than his twenty-four years. “You take my bedroom and I’ll sleep on the couch. There are clean sheets in the trunk next to the bed.”

  When she tried to protest, he held up his hand. “No arguing, Sarah. Go to bed. You must be exhausted from your trip, and you’ve worn me out with your questions.” He lumbered into the bathroom and shut the door.

  Sarah gathered her outer garments into a bundle and found his bedroom. After praying for an hour, sleep finally came in fits and starts. Traffic noise, barking dogs, ringing phones, and the drone of an overhead TV intruded on her dreams in bizarre fashion. When she awoke the next morning, bleary-eyed and stiff from a saggy mattress, she found Caleb clean-shaven and sipping coffee at the table. A fresh quart of milk sat next to a bag of bagels.

  “Good morning. Eat some breakfast, and then you can take a shower if you like. My friend Pete will pick us up at eleven and drive us downtown during his lunch hour.”

  Sarah poured coffee, desperate for a way to spend more time with him. “Could you please show me Lake Erie before I go home, since I’ve come so far?”

  He smiled, slowly at first. “I guess we could swing by Edge-water Park on the way.”

  “And the West Side Market and the Cleveland Zoo and the Museum of Art?” She broke a bagel in half and began eating.

  His eyes grew round, and then he burst out laughing. “No time for the zoo because it’s way too big, and the museum’s on the other side of town. But we can have lunch at the West Side Market.”

  Cal Beachy was a man of his word. Sarah walked the deserted beach with her bruder and his friend, chasing seagulls that landed in their path. She filled her lungs with clean air and tried her best to see Canada across the water. The peace and calm from the sound of waves soothed her soul. She fell in love with the beach, even in the middle of winter. At the West Side Market, Caleb hurried her past the indoor and outdoor booths. She would have loved spending time at the international food vendors, but Cal bought three bratwurst sandwiches and herded her back to the vehicle.

  All too soon they arrived downtown and pulled up in front of the bus station. Cal asked Pete to wait in the truck with the engine running while he walked Sarah inside the terminal. Before she could think of another reason to delay, Caleb kissed her on the forehead, put her on the bus bound for Akron, and walked out of her life…again.

  Sarah felt the pain of loss all the way home, realizing this was what her mamm felt many times over.

  THIRTEEN

  Adam glanced at the wall clock again, unable to keep his mind on his work. He replayed his last conversation with Sarah over and over in his head until he found himself changing the words to those he should have said. He had no business being short tempered with her. She had a right to visit her brother if she wanted. He just wished Caleb lived down the road instead of in a big city filled with temptation.

  Whatever Caleb had seen and done in Cleveland had made him choose to stay. He’d turned his back on his family, his faith, and the Amish lifestyle for ease and comfort. He would probably give up his right arm before relinquishing his car or truck. Moonlit buggy rides down shady lanes or hiking through a newly mown pasture at dawn couldn’t compare with fancy restaurants, shopping malls, and golf courses. But Caleb Beachy wasn’t his concern…Sarah Beachy was.

  Would she too fall in love with a culture of few rules and no expectations? Without her daed, the bishop, and him watching over her shoulder, she would be free to cut her hair, paint her face, and dress in the latest styles. Because Caleb earned lots of money, she could stay with him until she found employment. Cities were filled with bed-and-breakfasts, small inns, and big hotels. With her experience, she would have her pick of jobs.

  Pressure built within Adam’s chest until his breath came in short gasps. He was certain he was losing Sarah to a world he didn’t understand…and didn’t want to. And he had no one to blame but himself. Love was the one thing that kept their Plain culture and community vibrant and strong—love between a parent and child, between siblings, and between an Amish Christian and God. God was easier to obey and His Word easier to follow in their rural society. How difficult it must be for urban Christians to stay on course without reminders of Him in each misty meadow or snow-covered hill.

  Then there is the love between a man and a woman.

  If he’d loved Sarah enough and had revealed his deep passion, maybe she wouldn’t have been so quick to leave. Her ambivalence to wedding talk, her reluctance to get baptized, and her disinterest in planning a future with him spoke louder than an English billboard painted on a red barn. His stubborn pride had kept him from facing reality—Sarah didn’t love him. If she did, he wouldn’t have been so easy to leave. He’d been a fool, strung along by a
woman either too afraid or too kind to hurt his feelings. Either way, Adam knew he faced a lonely Christmas. And the prospect of starting over to find a wife chilled him more than the frozen fields he gazed across. He would rather spend his life alone than fall for another woman unable to return his love.

  Adam mulled over his troubles all the way home. Fortunately, his smart horse had kept track of the route while he’d been distracted. He rewarded the gelding with a fifteen-minute rubdown, three carrots, and a bucket of oats. When he entered the house’s dark back hallway, he tripped over something on the rug. He sprawled forward, banging his head on the doorjamb before catching his balance. “Tarnation!” he muttered to himself. “Who left this pair of skates in the middle of the hall?” He’d assumed he was alone in this part of the house or he would have controlled his temper.

  He had been mistaken.

  “Mir leid, Uncle Adam.” His favorite nephew crept out from behind the door to gather up the skates. “I forgot I’d left them there to dry.”

  Adam ducked his head. “It’s all right, Joshua. Put them in the closet out of the way.” As the child scampered off with the skates, Adam limped into the kitchen, rubbing the growing knot on his forehead.

  “Oh, boy, you’ll probably have a shiner,” said his sister. Amanda lit the kerosene lamp with a kitchen match.

  “I missed the eye. Just cracked my head.” He slumped into a chair.

  “’Tis a blessing then. Your head can take a few hard knocks.” Despite her teasing, she wrapped a cloth around some ice cubes and gently placed it on the lump.