The Rescued (21 page)

“Ach, Mattie, that's no reason at all.”

“I won't have him spend the rest of our lives thinking we got married because I needed help.”

“Adam loves you,” Mamm Becky said flatly. “I see it, Jonah sees it, now even Adam sees it. Everyone but you.”

Mattie shook her head, discovering that her eyes had filled with tears. Why was it so hard for others to understand her feelings? It would be different if she could be sure . . .

Wait, what was she thinking? Sure of what? Sure he loved her? Or sure she loved him?

Before she could face the questions her heart asked, she heard the thump of Anna's feet on the stairs.

“Ach, how one light little girl can make such a racket I don't know.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “We won't talk about it anymore now. Rachel knows about the papers,” she added quickly. “Anna doesn't. She wouldn't understand.”

There wasn't time to say more about it, because Anna hurled herself at her grandmother as if she hadn't seen her for months instead of a day.

“Grossmammi! I tied my shoes all by myself. See?”

Anna stuck out one black shoe. The laces were looped in a very lopsided bow, but they were tied.

“Gut. You're a big girl now, ain't so?” Mamm Becky hugged her. “Do you want to help us bake?”

“I do! I can bake, can't I, Rachel?” Anna appealed to her big sister.

“That's certain-sure,” Rachel said quickly. “What are we making?”

“How about a big batch of apple dumplings?” their grandmother asked. “Some for now and some for later.”

In the midst of Anna's noisy response, Adam and Daad Jonah appeared on the back porch. One look at Adam's face was enough to tell Mattie. It was happening now.

She swallowed, feeling as if her throat was too tight for speech. “Will you keep the girls inside, Mamm Becky?”

Her mother-in-law nodded. She reached for Anna, pulling the child against her.

“Not me,” Rachel said, her young voice firm and decided. “I belong with you, Mamm.”

Mattie wanted to argue, but Rachel was right. If her daughter was indeed old enough to leave school, she was old enough to join her mother in standing for what they believed.

“Ja,” she said. She clasped Rachel's hand, and together they stepped out onto the porch, watching as the police car made its way down the lane.

Adam and Daad Jonah moved close so that the four of them stood together. Adam touched her arm lightly. “It's not too late,” he murmured. “If I tell them . . .”

He let the words die out when she shook her head.

It wasn't too late to do something to keep from going to jail. She could agree to marry Adam for all the wrong reasons. Or she could agree to send her daughter for an education she didn't believe in.

The car came to a halt near the porch. The officer seemed to wait for a moment, as if expecting them to make a move. Then he opened the door and stepped out, settling his cap squarely on his head.

The officer was an older man. With his graying hair and
lean, weathered face, he looked more like a farmer than her idea of a police officer. But the weapon in a holster on his hip would convince her if she needed convincing. This was the real thing.

He came to the bottom of the steps and stopped, unfolding a sheet of paper and consulting it. Then he looked from one face to another. “Mrs. Benjamin Lapp?” he asked, though it must be obvious that she was the person he was after.

“I am Mattie Lapp.” Her voice didn't seem to be attached to her at all.

“Mrs. Lapp, I'm required by law to serve you with this summons. It requires you to send your underage daughter, Rachel Elizabeth Lapp, to the consolidated high school to which she has been assigned. If she is not there tomorrow morning when school begins, you will be in violation of the law and subject to arrest.” He rattled that off in an expressionless voice. Then he stopped and looked at her, and she thought some emotion moved in his eyes. Pity, maybe. “Do you understand what I have said to you?”

She felt the warmth of Adam's arm brushing against hers and imagined he was trying to send her strength.

“Yes.”

The officer looked embarrassed all at once, and it seemed to make him more human. “Are you sure? Maybe you have questions. If there's anything . . .”

Mattie shook her head. What was there to say?

“Okay, then.” He handed the paper to her, started to turn away, and then swung back toward her. “You know, if you told me you intended to obey the order, you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.”

He was trying to be kind, she realized. “Thank you. But I can't do that.”

He nodded, as if it was what he expected. “Sorry,” he muttered, and then turned and went quickly to the police car. They stood where they were, not speaking, until he'd turned the vehicle and driven back down the lane.

Mamm Becky erupted onto the porch as Rachel put her arm around her mother's waist, holding her tight.

“It's wicked,” Mamm Becky said. She was scolding, probably as a way of holding back tears. “I've never heard of anything so wicked. Threatening a widow that way.”

“Hush, Becky. The man was only doing his job.” Daad Jonah put a hand awkwardly on Mattie's shoulder. “You did real good, Mattie.”

She nodded, holding on to Rachel, trying to think calmly. But her mind seemed to be tumbling ideas around and around until she felt as if they were clanging against her temples. She appreciated their support, really she did. But she needed to think. To absorb everything that was going to happen. If only—

Her gaze touched Adam's face, and his expression pierced her heart, nearly making her gasp with the strength of it. Pain filled his eyes and tightened his face into a mask. He was suffering more than she'd imagined possible.

Mamm Becky must surely be right. Why would he look that way unless he loved her?

And what did it say about her, that she hurt so much at his pain?

A
dam
hadn't slept at all—how could he? He could only hope Mattie had gotten some rest. On his frequent trips around her property during the night, all had been dark and quiet. Even the dog, used to his smell, hadn't made a sound, but just padded along after him. He and Onkel Jonah had passed each other several times, probably neither of them willing to stay away, even though there had been no disturbances.

Disturbances. He repeated the word bitterly in his mind. What was happening to Mattie today was a far bigger thing than a few smashed vegetables on the road.

He'd come over again at first light to milk the cows and turn them out into the pasture. No sooner had Adam finished than he spotted Onkel Jonah walking toward him, his shoulders stooped as if the weight he carried had become too much for him. Adam stayed where he was until his uncle came up to him.

“You're here early,” he said, unnecessarily.

Onkel Jonah nodded. “And you. Well, what else would we do on a day like today?”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the sun make its way over the hills to the east. There wasn't much to say, just as there was little they could do. No point in saying they'd both take Mattie's place if they could. They both knew it, and that answer was impossible.

Had their opponents come after Mattie so soon deliberately? Maybe they reasoned that arresting a young widow would show the world that they were serious. Or even frighten the rest of the Leit into obedience, even though they should know better by now, he would think.

“Bishop Thomas should be along soon.” His uncle gazed absently down the lane toward the blacktop road. “He's bringing the ministers with him. Your aunt and your cousin Emma are coming along behind me from the house.”

“I didn't know Emma was already here.” His married cousin lived far enough away that she had to bring the buggy on her frequent visits to her folks.

“Ja, she drove over yesterday before dark. Said she couldn't just sit home while all this was happening, and this way she didn't have to drive this morning before it was light. She'll take Anna home with her. We thought it was best. Until . . . well, until Mattie is back again.”

Adam's heart clenched at the words. How long would it be? How long would they keep Mattie shut up in a cell for following her church's teaching?

Onkel Jonah seemed to expect a response, so Adam nodded and tried to speak normally. “Emma's kinder will keep Anna
too busy to fret, ain't so?” His cousin had four younger than six, two of them lively four-year-old twins.

“Ja, I expect so. And some of Mattie's kin have a driver bringing them over from Littleton.”

“Gut. Maybe it'll help Mattie to know so many are here with her.”

His uncle surprised him by resting a hand on Adam's shoulder. “We would do more if we could, ain't so?”

That went without saying. The trouble was that there was little they could do. Just stand by and try to take the worries of the family off Mattie's heart.

Light appeared in the kitchen window, and Adam's heart seemed to jump. “Mattie's up,” he said, not that he needed to. Jonah would see it as quickly as he did.

“You go on inside,” Onkel Jonah said. “I see Becky and Emma coming. I'll wait for them.”

His uncle was giving him a last opportunity to be alone with Mattie, he realized, not that it would do any good. He'd certain-sure argue with her if he thought there was a chance of changing her mind, but he knew his Mattie, through and through. She was a gentle soul, but she had decided that this was her trial to bear. She wouldn't waver now.

When Adam reached the door, he found she'd already unlocked it, obviously knowing he was there and would come in. Mattie turned from putting the coffeepot on the stove as he stepped inside. “You'll have coffee, ain't so?”

“Denke.” He wiped his feet thoroughly on the mat, scanning her face. Mattie looked pale, but she seemed composed, as if ready for whatever would come. “Have you spoken to the kinder yet?”

She nodded, setting out mugs and spoons, milk and sugar. “I did. Rachel helped, and the younger ones listen to her. Anna doesn't grasp much except that Mammi will be away for a few days and she gets to stay with Aunt Emma and her cousins. She's already packed her bag.”

He managed to produce the smile she seemed to expect. “And what about the boys?”

Mattie shrugged, staring at the coffeepot as if willing it to perk faster. “It's difficult for them, but I think they understand as well as they can at their age.”

A wave of bitter anger nearly swamped him. “How could any child be expected to understand it? I'm a grown-up, and I certain-sure don't.”

She swung around as if propelled by his tone. “Adam, you must not feel anger or bitterness. It's not right. Please, promise me.”

Mattie had made her way to acceptance, he realized. Even confidence. He shouldn't act in a way that disturbed her. “I'll try,” he said.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Gut. I knew I could count on you. And anyway, maybe we don't need to understand. It is enough for unser Leit that we be content in what God sends us.”

The longing to argue surprised him. He couldn't. He, like Mattie, like the rest of their people, had only to obey and trust, even when they couldn't see the way. God's word was the only light they needed for their path.

He wasn't sure what he'd have said, but he heard the sound of the kinder coming down the stairs. Anna was chattering to Rachel a mile a minute as they entered the kitchen. Rachel,
like her mother, was wan but calm, even managing to laugh a little at Anna's excitement.

A look at the boys told him they weren't doing as well, especially Nate. His small face was pinched. Even as Adam started toward him, he burst out at his little sister. “Stop talking so much. Don't you know—”

Adam reached him, put a hand on each boy's shoulder, and steered them back into the living room. “Komm,” he said. “It's going to be all right.”

“It's not.” Nate's fists clenched. “They are going to take Mammi away and put her in a jail. They—”

“Hush.” Adam squatted, drawing both of the boys close. “Mammi will be home in a few days. She's going to be fine. No one will harm her there. And you will be taken care of, you know that, don't you? You have all of us who love you and will take care of you while she's away.”

Toby, pale and solemn, nodded gravely, but Nate's face twisted. “I hate it.” He said the words defiantly, and then looked abashed, clearly expecting a reprimand.

Adam held Nate so that he could look into his eyes. “I hate it, too. It's right to hate injustice, so long as we don't hate the people, too, ain't so?”

Nate, surprised, nodded.

“All right then.” He breathed a little easier. “All we can do now is be here to help Mammi and to do whatever we can for her.”

“That's what I want,” Nate said quickly. “I want to help Mammi, but Rachel says we have to go to school.”

Adam considered how to respond. Being a parent was harder than it looked, it seemed.

“We can help her best by doing what she wants, not what we want,” he said. “Mammi wants you to go to school. When you do as she says, you are helping her because she doesn't have to worry so much about you. See?”

Toby nodded immediately. Nate took his time, his lower lip protruding, but finally he nodded as well.

“Gut.” Adam rose, patting their shoulders. “Let's go and have breakfast, so Mammi won't worry that you're not eating.” He shepherded them into the kitchen.

Anna seemed to have calmed down. She eyed her brother with a tad of resentment but then went happily back to her oatmeal until she was distracted by the arrival of her grandmother and her aunt.

Under cover of the chatter, Adam made his way around to the stove, where Rachel seemed to be intent upon stirring the oatmeal.

“Some of that for me?” he asked.

She jerked, the spoon in her hand hitting the side of the pan. Her eyes were wide and frightened in her pale face. “I . . . I'll dish some up for you.”

Leaning against the sink, Adam watched her. Rachel was hurting, but what could he say that would make things any better?

“It's my fault,” she muttered suddenly, and then glanced toward her mother to be sure Mattie hadn't heard.

He paused long enough to assemble his thoughts. He should have realized that conscientious Rachel would find a way to blame herself.

“How is it your fault?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“If I hadn't been ready for ninth grade, Mamm wouldn't be
going through this.” Rachel's blue eyes challenged him to argue with her.

“True,” he said. “What could you have done about it?”

She looked startled, obviously not expecting agreement. “Well, I . . . I . . .” She stopped. Shook her head. And gave him a smile that trembled on the brink of tears. “Nothing, I guess.”

“Nothing for sure.” He patted her shoulder. “It's nobody's fault. It happened this year because the new school was finished and because some people on the school board are unwilling to listen to our beliefs. Not because of you. So don't let your mamm know you have such ferhoodled ideas.”

Some of the tension seemed to slip out of her. “I won't. Denke, Cousin Adam.”

Nodding, he turned away, stopping at the counter to add a little milk and brown sugar to his oatmeal. When he looked up, he saw that Mattie was watching him. Her expression was somehow different, and he wasn't sure what that meant.

Before he had a chance to think, his cousin Emma was elbowing him out of the way. “Go and sit down and stop standing there blocking traffic, Adam. I'm going to cut the shoofly pies, if you want any.”

He grinned, used to his cousin's bossiness. “How can I resist when you ask me so nicely?”

She swatted at him with a dish towel, but he evaded it and went to sit next to the boys. He'd no more than sat down before he heard a buggy coming down the lane. Most likely the bishop and the ministers, he supposed.

Aunt Becky gave Emma a look, and she stopped what she was doing.

“We should be getting on our way, Anna. Your cousins are
so excited to see you they're probably driving their daadi crazy. Are you ready?”

The bustle of getting Anna out the door and packed into Emma's buggy seemed to overcome a slight tendency toward tears on Anna's part. Adam stowed her suitcase carefully, as if it contained something precious, and Anna smiled at him, pleased that he took her trip so seriously.

“You have a gut time, now. And be nice to your cousins.” He hugged her.

“I'm always nice,” she said, looking surprised.

He looked at Mattie, inviting her to share his amusement, and she managed a smile.

“Well, see that you stay that way,” Mattie told her, hugging her tightly. “And be a very gut girl for your aunt, okay?”

Anna's little face started to pucker as Emma released the brake and the carriage began to move. “I don't think I want to go away.”

“No fussing, now,” Mattie said. “It's not polite to fuss when you are getting such a treat. You'll have so much fun with your cousins that you won't want to come home again. I'll see you soon.”

Anna brightened a little. With a speaking glance at Mattie, Emma clucked to the horse, no doubt thinking it best to get moving while Anna was momentarily distracted.

They stepped back, standing together as they watched the buggy roll down the lane. Mattie waved as long as Anna was visible, seeming composed and cheerful. But Adam saw her face when she turned back again, and the pain in it twisted his heart.

By the time they returned to the kitchen, she had managed to put her smile back on. She handed the boys their lunches.

“Time for you two to get moving. Grossdaadi says he'll walk you partway to school, so get your hats.”

For an instant it looked as if Nate would object. Adam caught his eye. Nate swallowed, his neck moving, and then took his lunch bag. “Good-bye, Mammi.” He hugged her fiercely and then turned away quickly. “Let's go, Toby.”

With the departure of the kinder and the arrival of so many black-suited men, the atmosphere of the farmhouse changed subtly. Aunt Becky bustled around, making sure everyone had coffee and a slab of coffee cake or shoofly pie, with Rachel as her quiet helper. It reminded Adam of folks gathered after a funeral, the low voices sometimes interrupted by a chuckle as people forgot for a moment why they were there.

A vehicle coming down the lane startled everyone into strained silence, but a glance out the window assured Adam it wasn't the police car. Not yet.

He turned back, his gaze seeking the bishop. “It's that minister from the school board. Pastor Colby.”

“Is it?” Bishop Thomas didn't sound surprised. He gestured to Adam and Jonah to accompany him, and they went out onto the porch as the minister emerged from his car.

The minister greeted them, glancing from one face to another. “I hope Mrs. Lapp isn't too upset this morning.”

“She's doing well.” The bishop naturally took over the role of spokesperson. “But the threat of jail is hard for a widow with young children.”

“It's unconscionable,” Pastor Colby said emphatically. “I prayed it wouldn't come to this, but . . .” He shook his head, his youthful face concerned. “Some in authority have hardened their hearts, as the scripture says. I'm not giving up, though.”

“We, too, have not given up.” Bishop Thomas's grave dignity contrasted with the other man's indignation. “But we will take what God sends to us.”

Colby nodded. “I've come to stand with you, if you'll allow it. Also, I thought my car might be useful to take the family on to the jail and to the hearing.”