Leaving Lancaster (19 page)

“I think I recognize this cow, and she's wearing an ear clip,” Zach said. “We'll need to get hold of the owner and ask him to come fetch her.”

Eyeing the car and bent fencepost, he tipped his head toward acres of pastureland, and a barn and house standing in the distance. “My best guess is she belongs to the Swartzendrubers' dairy farm. They keep a good size herd of Guernsey—forty head. They don't own a phone, so I'll drive over there. I'll be right back.”

“And leave us with the cow?” Holly said. “What if she gets worse? What if she runs away?”

He smiled, his expression amused but sympathetic.

Esther heard a clip-clop-clopping on the road and noticed a horse and buggy trotting their way with several cars tailgating it. As the gray covered buggy pulled off the road behind Zach's truck, the automobiles sped past.

The bearded buggy driver leaned out the window. “Anything I can do ta help ya, Doc?”

“You know John Swartzendruber from that farm over yonder?” Zach asked.

“Yah, he's my
Onkel
.”

“Would you mind heading over there and telling your uncle one of his cows has been injured? Nothing serious.”

“You might mention the driver has auto insurance,” Holly said.

The man shook his head. “No need.”

“Thank you, ever so much.” Esther had forgotten how charitable and accommodating the Amish were, and had always been, now that she thought about it. If they were in Seattle, names and numbers would be exchanged and a policeman called to the scene.

As the horse and buggy cantered down the road to the Swartzendrubers' farm, Zach's attention turned to the rental car, its rear bumper and hatch in view. Steamy vapor billowed from the ditch, erupting from under the hood.

“What happened?” Zach asked. “Someone run you off the road?”

“No.” Holly's eyes went glassy. “It was all my fault. I wasn't paying attention.”

Esther could see his taking in Holly's muddied socks and shoes, and the blackberry still dragging from the hem of her dress.

“I can ask neighbors to pull the car out of the ditch with a team of draft horses or call a tow truck,” he said.

Her chin dipped. “I should inform the car rental agency too.”

He stepped over to her and draped an arm around Holly's back. She leaned against him, not what Esther expected after Holly's remarks about him. Maybe Holly would grow fond of him if she spent more time here. But what about the suitor Holly knew from church in Seattle? Although Holly claimed they were merely friends, he'd be a preferable choice, for sure.

Holly rubbed her eyes, then turned to watch the cow. “She looks better now, don't you think, Mom?”

“Yes. But don't ask me. Zach's the expert.”

As Holly used her phone to call the car rental agency and Zach spoke to their recommended towing company in New Holland on his, Esther's thoughts zigzagged like a mouse in a maze. If Zach and capricious Holly grew closer, Beth and Holly would too. It seemed as though Esther and Beth already shared Mamm, which vexed Esther to no end. At least Beth had kept her distance since Esther and Holly's arrival. But that respite might not last.

“Where were you and your mother just now so early in the morning?” Zach asked Holly as they both put away their phones.

“At my father's parents'.” She sniffed and dabbed the corners of her eyes with her sleeves. “A dream come true meeting my grandparents, Jeremiah and Beatrice Fisher.”

“Matthew Fisher's your father?”

“No. Samuel, their older son, who died before I was born.”

“I didn't know they had a boy other than Matthew.” He ran a hand along his jawline. So Beth had not filled him in on Esther's duplicitous past.

Zach extracted his keys from his pocket. “I could drive you back to their house.”

“No!” Esther said. “We're headed to my mamm's, if it wouldn't be too much trouble.”

“Happy to oblige. We'll wait for John Swartzendruber and the tow truck, then I'll take you.”

Using one foot to hold it down, Holly tugged the blackberry branch off her dress; its thorns fought her and pricked her thumb, but she didn't complain. “Once I get cleaned up, I was planning to visit your mother to use my computer. You think it'll be all right to drop in on her again?”

“Absolutely. Her electricity's back on. I'll call and give her the heads-up. And let my answering service know where I am. I usually go to the office until noon on Saturdays, but my phone continues to ring all day.”

Esther could feel the skin on her feet wrinkling from her soggy socks; she'd be happy to soak them in warm water. Or should she dash into clean clothing and accompany Holly? Who knew what Beth might divulge about Esther's past? Like transparent drops of arsenic, Beth would surely poison her daughter against her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I watched two of John Swartzendruber's teenage sons guide the limping cow up a plank into an open wagon hitched to a draft horse. The Guernsey's udders hung heavy with milk. To think, I almost killed that lovely doe-eyed animal!

“Please, God, let her be all right,” I whispered.

After my chaotic morning, I wondered if God was listening or ever had. How could he possibly keep track of everyone's requests? I imagined, years ago, Mom's begging for Dad's return from Vietnam. The Almighty hadn't protected my father, yet Mom said she'd held tightly to her faith. And Mommy Anna? She said she never gave up on Mom's returning to Lancaster County. Would my grandma die the week after she reached Montana? Was it up to me to make sure she stayed here since God wouldn't intercede?

My faith used to flow like Mill Creek, bending, then straightening, lulled to tranquility by the force of gravity. But over the last few years my commitment to God had faded. Without him, what held my world together? Family. Making the whole Amish lifestyle seem right and nurturing. But I reminded myself their ways centered on obeying God.

I heard a man's voice, then Zach introduced Mom and me to John Swartzendruber—a man in his fifties, bearded, and wearing a straw hat.

“I'm so sorry,” I told him. I hoped Mom wouldn't elaborate or open her mouth again for the rest of the day. Not after our visit with the Fishers.

“I have no idea how Lulu got out,” John Swartzendruber said to Zach. “Lots of shenanigans going on this last month.” He hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “If ya ask me, kids in their Rumspringa are overstepping their boundaries.”

When he used the term Rumspringa, Mom looked away. I'd have to ask Mommy Anna about this running-around period. Did parents turn a blind eye when their children became sixteen, allowing them to break all rules?

While I was in high school, Mom had hounded me with restrictions, which I guessed kept me out of trouble when it came to boys. Who wanted to date a girl who had to be home by ten thirty? My thoughts returned to Beatrice and her hostility toward Mom and me this morning. Maybe the Fishers had the story backwards—maybe my father had been the one with wanderlust.

No, this morning my mother wore guilt like a scarlet letter across her chest.

“You could be right, John,” Zach said. “But it wouldn't hurt to check your fence.”

John Swartzendruber removed his hat for a moment and wiped sweat from his brow. “Don't need to. I know that fence like the back of my hand. And my cows spend the night under cover next to the barn.”

Zach assured John he wouldn't accept his usual veterinary fee. “I'll stop by to check on Lulu later this afternoon. Need help getting that post replaced?”

“Nee, my sons will fix it once that car's out of the way. These city folk …”

Soon after the Swartzendrubers' wagon departed, a tow truck barreled down the road from the other direction and halted near Zach's pickup. A cleanly shaved late-twenties man in overalls got out and gave Zach a hearty handshake. A border collie sat in the passenger seat.

“Thanks for coming so quickly, Gregg.” Zach reached through the open window to stroke the dog under the chin.

“Anything for you, Doc. If it weren't for your house call a couple years back, our Gabby here wouldn't have made it. Nor her pups.”

“And my mother wouldn't have her beloved Missy.”

“Missy couldn't have a better home.” Gregg's glance sized up the rental car.

Did Zach know every man, woman, and animal in the county? I didn't know why his popularity bugged me. But it did, like he was a puffed-up superhero. I bet women swooned all over him. And to think only an hour ago I'd leaned against him like a damsel in distress. Had tears actually blurred my vision? I'd never cried in public. I mean, never.

Backing his tow truck toward the ditch and reeling out a hook, Gregg got busy hauling the car. A fencepost and boulder at the bottom of the ditch had dented the hood, and the front bumper splayed off to the side, dislocated, gathering twigs and grass.

“Why didn't I purchase the extra insurance offered at the airport?” I said to myself, but Mom overheard me.

“Too late to lose sleep over it now,” she said.

If she were trying to make me feel better, her tactic wasn't working. “Your mother should have named you Pollyanna,” I said. Everything about Mom rankled me, like yellow jackets swarming around my ears. “I hope my regular insurance covers the damage. The two-hundred-dollar deductible will empty my account. Do you even know what deductible means?”

“Of course I do. I own a business with fire and theft insurance, don't I? And I've asked you over and over not to use the phone while driving.”

I glanced at Zach and felt blood rising up my neck. “This is my first car accident, I swear.”

“I believe you.” He raised his hands as if under arrest.

Wishing I'd wake up from this nightmare, I said, “At least the cow's okay. Isn't she? I've never hurt an animal in my life.”

He let out a slow breath. “She'll be fine. And I'll swing by John Swartzendruber's to check her over again.” Zach gave me a half smile. Pondering the cow's welfare, I wasn't convinced Lulu was all right.

Mom brushed a dried leaf off her slacks. “Holly, aren't you going to thank Zach for his generosity?” Must she embarrass me again?

“I was about to, Mother.” I turned to Zach and saw he was wearing faded jeans and a wrinkled shirt. His hair looked windblown, as if he'd combed it with his fingers. Had he even had his morning coffee? From the look of his stubbled chin, I doubted he'd done more than splash his face with water. “Thank you very much, Zach,” I said. “You've been more than kind.”

“Glad to help.”

“Let's not keep this busy man waiting any longer,” Mom said.

I took her comment to mean I was a slowpoke, producing one blunder after another. All true. I had no one to blame but myself for stranding us by the side of the road. What was wrong with me? Wasn't I the sophisticated woman who'd dreamed of working in the world of high finance using the left side of my brain, not traipsing around the county at sunup, carousing into ditches? I thought of my former boss, Mel, and wondered if the market had rebounded. I should call him.

“Shall we take off?” Zach said. “Gregg can handle this.”

Zach's hand at my elbow, he escorted me to his pickup. Did I look like I was going to keel over? I glanced down at my grimy shoes, dress, and apron. I should have taken the time to fix my zipper and worn my slacks and a long-sleeved sweater this morning. What had drawn me to the dress and apron again? Probably the desire for community that ran through me like an underground stream.

“Can we all fit in?” Mom asked Zach as we neared his pickup.

“Yes, it's got a wide bench seat, plenty of room.” Zach opened the passenger door and motioned for me to get in. Trying to clean my feet, I swiped the side of my shoes on the ground, but the bulk of mud remained, already drying. I grabbed a stick and flicked some off, then gave up.

With Zack's assistance, I climbed into the cab. I should have asked Mom to sit in the middle, but she would have insisted I get in first. I wasn't up for another squabble.

“Put on your safety belt,” she told me and waited to hear it click before fastening her own.

Once Zach ignited the engine, he asked, “Are you two sure nothing's sprained or broken? Want me to run you by the ER?”

“Nothing's broken,” I said. “How about you, Mom?”

“Just shaken.” She rubbed her forearms as if trying to get her circulation moving.

In truth, my left arm from shoulder to fingers felt achy. Not that I'd admit it. The last place I wanted to go was a hospital.

In the pickup, my legs swung to the right, against Mom's. Her shoes and socks looked in worse shape than mine. Fortunately Zach's floor mats were already littered with dirt and bits of straw.

Cruising onto the road, we sat in silence, the transmission mounting, then ebbing, the shock absorbers bouncing over a pothole.

“May I take you to breakfast?” Zach asked us. “My treat.”

“Sure, I'm famished,” I said.

“No,” Mom said. “I left the house without a word this mornin'. Mamm could be fretting up a storm.”

“Then I'll take you right home.” Apparently in no hurry, Zach followed a horse-driven wagon laden with baled hay.

“Thank you ever so much for your kind offer,” Mom said to him. “Mamm probably has a pot of Kaffi
brewing and some fresh sticky buns should ya like to come in.”

My chuckle came out like a snort. “Mother, you're sounding more and more like a local.”

“Well, you're lookin' like one,” she shot back, a gust of hostility blasting the side of my face. At least she wasn't harping about my accident or the cow. I felt sick enough about it. In Seattle, she often tossed out unsubtle remarks about my driving, like: “Are we in a hurry, dear?” or “Seems like everyone else is driving slower.” If she didn't appreciate my chauffeuring her, she'd had every opportunity to learn to drive. I'd even offered to teach her. “I enjoy the bus” was her answer. But carting grocery bags home on the bus was a burden, so I usually stepped in to save the day. Or Dori offered to help by picking up milk and eggs. Mom paid her back with fresh Amish Friendship Bread, so Dori insisted she got the better end of the bargain.

Why was I analyzing my mother, who would never change her ways and was kind enough to let me live with her? We'd spent too much time together, I decided, looking forward to a break—with Beth and my computer.

Minutes later, Zach steered his pickup around the side of Mommy Anna's house.

“Thank you for the ride,” Mom said. She opened the door and slid to the ground. I followed her, my skirt getting caught in the seat belt. Zach helped me untangle myself, no doubt getting a good look at my grubby legs up to the knees. As if I hadn't embarrassed myself enough for one day.

Mom and I straggled into the barnyard to find Isaac and Nathaniel face-to-face, standing closer than usual. Grasping a legal-size manila envelope, Isaac ignored our arrival. I figured my uncle, up milking since dawn, was tired and thoroughly annoyed with Mom. Couldn't blame him there. But Nathaniel pushed his hat back and sent Mom an engaging smile. He hardly noticed me!

Trodding up the back steps, Mom and I left our shoes and socks in the utility room and scrubbed our hands. While Mom padded into the kitchen, I wiped dried mud off my legs with a damp towel. Through the door, I heard Isaac say, “Now listen here, Nathaniel. Who do ya think you are?”

I was tempted to dawdle and eavesdrop, but saw Mommy Anna ahead waiting for Mom and me. My grandma's face looked haggard—most likely she was agitated, seeing the men at odds and wondering where Mom had been hiding herself.

As I entered the kitchen, the temperature rose a welcoming twenty degrees. Three lattice-covered pies with crimped edges sat on the counter. A cloud of fruity ambrosia filled my nostrils; the air radiated with the scent of apples, cinnamon, and butter.

“There you are,” Mommy Anna said. “What can I get yous ta eat? Pie made of apples from our orchard?”

I'd always wanted a grandma to spoil me rotten. “Dessert for breakfast sounds divine. After the morning I've had, I may pour a heaping tablespoon of sugar over the top.”

“Never can be too sweet—like you.” I appreciated that she hadn't questioned me about my day and why we hadn't returned in the rental car. She knew I'd headed to the Fishers' but—unlike Mom—would let me unravel my experience in due time.

Mommy Anna sliced me a generous wedge of pie and positioned it on a plate, off to one side. “Any cheese?”

“Yes, please. But I can get it myself.”

“Nee, darling girl, I will.” Mommy Anna brought a tube of sausage out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter.

Mom and I stared at the sausage, then at each other in silent surprise.

“Sure you didn't mean ta get cheese?” Mom returned it to the refrigerator and substituted it with a block of cheddar. She handed me the cheese on a cutting board. “I think I'll fry myself an egg,” she said.

“That ain't much of a breakfast.” Mommy Anna massaged her temples.

“To make you happy, I'll eat it with toast.” Mom placed a pan on the stove top and turned on the burner.

Mommy Anna's mouth lifted into a smile. “Holly, I'm already soaking your jeans. Ya ready for me to launder the dress and apron?”

“Would you mind? I could help.”

“I'll give you a lesson.”

“Are you sure you feel up to it?”

She rubbed her temples again, pushing her prayer cap
back to expose a balding scalp. “Just a headache. I get them every so often.” She tucked loose wisps of hair back under her cap and straightened it. The strings came untied; she left them dangling. “Monday is usually laundry day, but we'll make an exception in your case. Let's see, what day is it? Wednesday? No, 'tis Thursday. The last week in April.”

“It's Saturday, mid-October,” Mom said. “Are you okay?”

“I've felt better. And sometimes my head gets muddled.”

Not knowing the day of the week was one thing, but did Mommy Anna really think it was April? What did she expect to find in Montana? Thawing snow and spring flowers? I wanted to blame her confusion on her early rising.

I sliced into the cheddar. “No matter what time of year, you're the best grandma in the world as far as I'm concerned.”

“Better than Beatrice Fisher?” She steadied herself against the counter. “She can be a
schtinker,
but she ain't that bad once you get to know her. We're in different districts now—I can't say I mind one bit. And pretty soon we'll be livin' on the other side of the country. Near Seattle. If you don't come with us, you can visit often.”