Sarah's Christmas Miracle (10 page)

Saturday

D
oes a mother ever know what goes on in the minds of her children? Sarah had always been the one Elizabeth thought would give her the least amount of trouble. Rebekah could be wily, with her mind spinning with ways to cut corners or pass off chores. And Katie could be downright dangerous at times. She’d been climbing trees, swinging on ropes from the loft window, and shimmying onto the backs of animals since she was a toddler. Elizabeth could never lay her on a quilt in the summer shade and take a catnap beside her. Off Katie would crawl to investigate the wonders of the pump house or the chicken coop.

But Sarah? That girl had been as predictable as robins in the spring. Shy, soft-spoken, and easily pleased, Sarah stayed where she was put, never sassed, and usually confided every hope or fear to her mother…until lately. Elizabeth knew that change comes to all women. They leave childhood and step into the adult world without a firm understanding of what they want or what’s expected of them, yet she had always felt confident that steadfast Sarah would set a good example for her younger, more impetuous sisters.

So Elizabeth was uncomfortable when apprehension tickled the back of her mind.

For the past few days, Sarah had been dreamy and secretive, spending time holed up in her room when she wasn’t at the inn. Tomorrow was the Lord’s day. There would be no work at the B and B. All her
kinner
would be home, but Elizabeth chose not to wait for an overdue conversation. With a sigh she set down her sewing and climbed the stairs to her daughters’ room.

“Sarah?” she called, knocking firmly. “I’d like a word with you.”

After a moment the door swung wide, and a chilling sight greeted Elizabeth. Across Sarah’s narrow bed lay every garment of clothing she owned. Dresses, skirts, aprons,
kapps
, socks, and underclothes had been scattered. Some of the items Sarah had outgrown and should have been handed down to Rebekah. Little bottles of lotion and shampoo sat in a heap next to her brush, comb, and toothbrush.

“Going on a trip?” Elizabeth asked, expecting a logical explanation, such as closet cleaning or drawer reorganization.

The girl glanced up with her honey brown eyes shining. “
Jah.
Do you know where the small suitcase is,
mamm
? The one I used when we traveled to Pennsylvania for cousin Susan’s wedding a couple years ago? I’ve looked everywhere!” She shut her bottom drawer with a toe.

“It’s up in the attic with the rest of them. Where do you think you’re going?” Elizabeth closed the bedroom door, not wishing their conversation to be overheard.

Sarah, the child without an ounce of drama, calmly replied, “Cleveland,” and then began folding her strewn blouses.

“Cleveland? What in the world for?” asked Elizabeth, but deep in her heart she knew.

“I’m going to find my brother. I wish to speak with him.” Sarah didn’t look at her mother as she smoothed wrinkles from her longest winter skirt.

“You’re not making any sense, daughter. Nobody knows where he is.”

“I know where he lives.” The girl looked up and met Elizabeth’s eye with the assurance of a ninety-year-old sage. “Albert Sidley gave me his most recent address.”

Albert Sidley—Caleb’s old pal from their days of softball and riding horses up into the hills?
Elizabeth hadn’t thought of that boy in a long time. Suddenly her knees felt weak, and she sat down hard on Rebekah’s neatly made bed. “Your
bruder
wrote to Albert?” she asked hoarsely.

“
Jah
, a couple times.” Sarah filled a plastic bag with her toiletries. “I don’t mean to upset you,
mamm,
but I have a few questions for Caleb.”

“What kinds of questions? After all these years, what could he possibly tell you that would be this important? He chose to leave us, Sarah. It was his decision to leave the Order and become English.”

Sarah stopped organizing her small wardrobe. “Are you forbidding me from going? I’m nineteen years old—an adult, not a child. I’ve saved my own money. And these are my years to sample the English world before making up my mind.”

Elizabeth thought she might be sick as her stomach took a nasty churn. Maybe she shouldn’t have spread the hot pepper relish so generously on her sandwich. “So you’ve decided to take a
Rumschpringe
after all? Is this why you haven’t taken classes in preparation of baptism? Is this why you’ve been dancing Adam Troyer around like a puppet on a string—changing the subject each time he brings up your wedding?”

Anger flashed in Sarah eyes. “I see Rebekah has been gossiping about me.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Elizabeth knew she walked a narrow precipice. “I’m not forbidding your trip to Cleveland, Sarah. It’s your right, I suppose, but I am asking you to be practical. Cleveland isn’t like downtown Fredericksburg, where you can hike to one end and back during a church bathroom break. It’s huge with hundreds of thousands of people. Every big city has hidden dangers you know nothing about.”

With agonizing slowness Sarah pulled several folded papers from her purse and set them on the bed. Elizabeth didn’t need to ask what they were. “Did you get those at the fancy inn where you work?”

“
Jah.
I’ve been studying the maps for two days. I’ve practically memorized them. I’m sure I can find my way to Caleb’s house. I’ve traced my path a hundred times.”

“Your path?” Elizabeth felt every protective instinct in her body sharpen to full alert. “This is not the same thing as taking the back path to Josie’s around the abandoned mill. Cleveland is far away for an Amish gal with no car.”

After selecting one of the papers, Sarah sat down next to her mother and placed the sheet between them. “Here’s where we are,” she said, pointing with a finger. “And here is Cleveland.” She tapped a spot on the map. “It’s sixty-six and one-half miles.” She spoke like a schoolteacher addressing her students.

“Is that right?” Elizabeth took hold of Sarah’s chin and turned her face. “Are you going to walk those sixty-six and one-half miles in the middle of winter or hitch your horse to the buggy and pray for no blizzard?” She spoke without a hint of sarcasm. Somehow she needed to get through to her sweet, malleable child who had recently changed into a stubborn mule. “Those aren’t country roads with a buggy lane. They are crowded highways and interstate freeways where cars and trucks travel at high speed.”

Sarah smiled patiently as though Elizabeth were the thickheaded one. “Of course not. I can’t drive a buggy to Cleveland,
mamm.
I know that. I plan to pay Mrs. Pratt for a ride to Canton, where I’ll catch a bus. They have a route straight to downtown Cleveland with only one short stop in Akron.” She patted Elizabeth’s arm.

Elizabeth’s heart stopped pumping blood for a moment. Her daughter had given this matter serious thought. “And what will one skinny Amish girl do in downtown Cleveland alone?” She rose and started pacing in the small room.

Sarah maintained her calm, cool composure. “Not to worry. I have several other maps, each more detailed than this one, and I’ve studied them as well. They have a good bus system besides a Rapid Transit train that stops close to Caleb’s address.” She patted the pile of clothes waiting for the suitcase. “I shall probably stay one night—two at the most—in case he wants to show me some sights. And I’ll be home in plenty of time for Christmas.”

“This notion is really stuck in your head, isn’t it?” Elizabeth stopped pacing from the door to the window. “Have you given any thought to your
bruder
’s reaction to you showing up on his doorstep after five years? What if he doesn’t want to talk to you? He might shut the door in your face.” She would pray for forgiveness for her unkindness tonight, but as a mother she was desperate.

Sarah didn’t seem offended. “I’ve thought about that, but I decided that since he’s my brother, he’ll talk to me. I only want a short time with him. I don’t plan to move in or talk him into coming back to Wayne County. He might even be happy to see me. He always called me his
bleed madchen.
”

The
Deutsch
name for “bashful girl” brought back painful memories. Elizabeth could hear Caleb’s voice calling to his siblings as though it were yesterday. Caleb had been very fond of Sarah while growing up. Elizabeth steadied her nerves with several deep calming breaths. “If you are so stuck on this harebrained idea, then your father or I will go with you. That way you won’t be alone.” Having reached the only possible solution, she sighed with relief.

“No,
mamm
,” said Sarah. “Neither you nor
daed
may come with me. It won’t work then. You could spoil everything.”

“What will spoil, Sarah? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I have some questions for him, things I need to know before committing myself to God and the church, and certainly before committing to Adam Troyer in marriage. If you’re there, Caleb might not tell me the truth.” Her tone encouraged no further discussion on the subject.

Elizabeth stared at her eldest daughter almost without recognition. “I see. And when do you plan to leave on this trip?”

“On Monday. Business is slow at the inn earlier in the week. I’ll have no trouble getting a few days off work. Now, if you’ll excuse me,
mamm
, I’d like to go up to the attic and look for that suitcase before it grows dark.” Sarah stepped around her mother and hurried from the room.

Elizabeth stood listening to overhead footsteps for a few moments before returning to the kitchen, feeling as though she’d been kicked by a mule. She poured a cup of cold coffee, slumped into a chair, and tried to think. Yet after ten minutes, still no insight occurred as to how she should handle the situation. Instead, memories of her son’s tumultuous
Rumschpringe
flooded back, bringing shame and regret.

That summer had been the hottest in fifteen years. Temperatures soared into the nineties during the day and dropped little at night due to the oppressive humidity. Caleb had been working on a construction project in Wilmot—adding a hotel and conference center to a tourist restaurant and gift shop. Although most of the carpenters and roofers were Amish, the plumbers and electricians were English. Caleb had made new friends among them. Eli gave him plenty of leeway to mingle because Caleb hadn’t joined the church yet. But when he started staying after work and missing supper several nights a week, Eli went to the barn for a father-son chat. Eli, who almost never raised his voice, lost his temper when he watched his son stumble from the buggy smelling of beer.

“Drunkenness is an abomination before the Lord,” Eli shouted.

“Who’s drunk? I had a couple beers after work, that’s all,” Caleb shouted back. But his glassy eyes and the slur of his words had fooled no one.

Afterward, there had been no further verbal confrontations, but both men grew more edgy and sullen as the interminable summer wore on. When the crews completed the rough framing on the hotel, highly skilled Caleb stayed until early fall to build interior walls, floors, and doorways. The family seldom saw him during these months because he went to work with an
Englischer.
He left the house early and came home late, sneaking into his room and barely speaking to his parents and sisters.

One Saturday night Eli spotted sparks shooting into the sky from a fire down by the creek. Amish youths often hosted bonfire parties to roast hot dogs and marshmallows as cooler evenings spurred social events. But there were no buggies parked in the yard, only five or six pickup trucks. Loud music poured from a boom box, while shouts and laughter could be heard all the way to the house.

Tossing and turning in his damp bed sheets, unable to sleep, Eli had had enough. He dressed and walked down to the creek to turn down the music. No one had noticed the long-bearded Amish father near the picnic table until Caleb and one of his friends decided to refill their quart-sized cups. Then they discovered that someone had drained the keg of beer into the tall grass of the meadow.

The young men soon wandered back to their trucks and went home.

Caleb soon left for Cleveland on a construction project…and never returned.

Elizabeth felt her hands turn clammy as her chest grew tight. She couldn’t bear to lose another child to the big city and English ways. When no better idea came to mind, she took pen and paper to jot a hurried message, folding the paper over twice when she finished.

“Katie!” she called. When the girl appeared in the doorway, Elizabeth commanded, “Take this to the Troyer farm and be quick about it. Give this note to no one but Adam. And do not let curiosity get the better of you. It’s not your concern.”

With a nod of her head, her youngest girl flew off. Elizabeth sat praying she hadn’t made another huge mistake.

T
EN