Threads of Grace (29 page)
T
here must be some mistake,” Grace said slowly. “My
sohn
is about playing, I’m sure.”
The officer squinted at her, then down to the notepad he held. “Amish boy. Eight years old. Black hair. Violet eyes. Might have a dog with him?”
Grace felt her world spinning out of control. Seth rode up, leaped down off the horse, and took her in his arms. She sobbed stiffly against his shoulder.
“
Ach
, Seth, tell me. What happened?”
“Yeah, I need more details,” the police officer said.
Grace waited, trying to pray.
“My
sohn
and his dog were playing out front of the house. I was to have been watching him, but I got involved in my painting upstairs and I lost track of time. When I came down, there was no sign of him or the—”
Grace stepped back from him. “Wait. You were
painting
?” Her voice took on a shrill note.
“Painting what?” the officer asked.
“I was painting . . . a picture, you know.”
“
Jah
, I know,” Grace said coldly.
“Oh.” The officer looked at Seth hard. “I didn’t know you Amish did that stuff.”
“Some do,” Seth said.
Grace turned from him to the policeman. “Officer, my son has autism. It’s not safe for him to be out in the dark and cold. And it’s possible that my first husband’s brother, Tobias Beiler, took him. He wanted to hurt me.”
“Ah, well, autism and a possible kidnapping. I’ve got to get more men here. Maybe call the FBI. Alert the news. We’ve got to find him.” The policeman hurried off to his car.
Grace felt Seth touch her shoulder and she whirled on him. “Painting, Seth Wyse? You were
painting
and valued that over my
sohn
?”
“Grace,” Seth said, “we need to be together in this. I am sorry that I didn’t pay attention, but we will find him and he’ll be all right. I’m sure of it.”
She turned from him and spoke quietly over her shoulder. “You can’t be sure of anything, Seth Wyse. Not even yourself.”
T
ime seemed to fly, and night fell with no sign of Abel. Seth felt like beating his head against a wall. He couldn’t believe he’d been so involved with himself that he’d neglected his
sohn
. Worse yet,
authorities could not confirm the whereabouts of Tobias Beiler. It seemed he might not have been back to Middle Hollow, Ohio, for quite some time.
Jacob reined in his horse and dismounted beside Seth. He took a cup of coffee and a sandwich from one of the
Amisch
women who had come to help. Not only were
Amisch
searching, but
Englisch
volunteers were as well, along with the police officers and agents.
“We’re missing something,” Seth said flatly. “I don’t know exactly what, but I’ve got an idea.” He turned anxiously to his brother. “Can I take Thunder?”
“My horse? Sure, go ahead. Why?”
Seth mounted, then directed the big horse over to the front porch where Grace waited. He reached a hand down to her. “Mad or not, come with me, Grace Wyse.”
He saw her hesitation, then she took his hand and he swung her up easily. She fumbled with her skirts and then settled in behind him. Thunder was steady and calm, and they were soon moving away from the crowd.
“Where are we going, Seth? This horse is going to break its leg.”
“Thunder knows this ground in dark or day. And it’s not far.”
He felt her tighten her hands about his waist when they dipped over rocks. The moonlight illuminated their path, and Seth slowed the horse near a low creek.
“Now, listen,” he said softly.
He waited, with breath held, and it came. The sound of a dog’s whine.
“
Ach
, Abel!” Grace cried, struggling to get down off the horse.
He caught her arm. “Wait. You’ll be the one to break your leg . . . again.”
He helped her down, then grabbed her hand and led her to a small culvert. “I used to come here and hide or sit in the creek when I was young. I wish I’d brought a light.” He knelt down on the damp creek bank, and Grace moved to do the same.
By the light of the moon, he reached into the culvert. Pretty’s whines turned into shrill cries, and Abel woke up.
“
Ach, Daed! Daed!
You found me. I knew you’d come.
Where’s
Mamm
?”
“What happened,
sohn
?”
“Pretty got her foot caught in a fox trap. She was bleeding really bad, and—”
Seth barely heard the rest as the boy rambled on with his story. Abel was safe. Nothing else mattered. And he had called him
Daed
. Seth reached tentatively for Grace’s hand in the silky darkness. She took it and squeezed, then gathered Abel close.
“Seth, I was so wrong. Please forgive me. I was scared and upset, and I took it out on you and your painting. I know you’re a good father, and I didn’t keep our wedding promise very well and—”
He pulled her close and kissed her. “Grace, I have a confession to make. I was daydreaming about you during our wedding. I don’t know what the bishop said, what I promised. I’m sorry.”
“But it’s right in front of you.” She laughed out loud. “Well, sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s grace,” she whispered. “We are to give each other
grace, like living water, anytime we can. And we’re to remember that there is as much grace in the past as there is in the now.”
Seth thought of the buck in the stream, drinking slowly. What had Gabe said?
That was grace.
“Well, I can certainly promise to do that,” he said. He put Abel and Pretty on the back of the big horse and, with Grace’s hand in his, walked with his family back to the house.
The word rang out among
Amisch
and
Englischer
alike: “Found!”
They all whooped and hollered, hugged and rejoiced. But Seth had trouble taking his eyes off the two people most dear to him in all the world. He wanted to make sure they stayed “found” forever.
T
obias Beiler mounted the steps to the bishop’s house with blood on his hands.
He had almost done something he would have regretted for the rest of his life.
He had followed the boy that night. Seen the dog in the trap.
This was his chance. He could leave the dog, take the boy, and use him as leverage to get to Grace. There was no question that she would sacrifice everything for her only son.
Then the boy had spoken to him, soft as a whippoorwill: “Help us,
Onkel
Tobias. Pretty’s hurt. Please help us.”
Uncle.
The boy had called him Uncle. The dog had licked his hand.
For the first time in years, Tobias felt something stir in his soul. Something real. Something human.
The years fell away, and he was that child again, crying for the dog he’d lost to his father’s punishment.
Silas had been twisted forever by their father’s abuse. Years of anger, resentment, and unforgiveness had left him a broken, bitter man. And now he was dead. It was too late for him to change.
But not too late for Tobias.
He worked the dog loose from the trap and returned him to the boy. Then he started walking.
He jerked back to the present when Bishop Loftus opened the door. The older man studied him for a brief moment. “Come in,
sohn
. Looks like you need some lemonade, and a taste of something stronger—maybe a cup of grace?”
Tobias bowed his head. “Maybe.”
T
he next morning everyone was sleepy at breakfast, but Seth tapped his coffee cup on the table. “We’ve got to take Pretty over to see Grant Williams and have him tend her foot. I did as much as I could last night, but I don’t want her to get infection from an old trap.”
“Can I go? Huh?” Abel asked, leaning against Seth’s side for a moment.
“We could all go.” He looked over at Grace. “How about it?”
Grace smiled. “Of course. And maybe we could all go pick blackberries later today. They’re so ripe along the road.”
“Well, count this old bird out,” Alice said. “I’ve got some Pink Ladies coming over for free cucumber mask facials.”
“I wanna do that!” Abel exclaimed.
“
Nee
, you don’t,
sohn
. Really sticky and gooey. And besides, Pretty needs you.”
“
Ach
. . . all right,” Abel sighed.
And Seth gave a faint sigh of relief.
T
he Williamses’ big old farmhouse was cozy and warm. Grace admired the beautifully carved furniture and the general air of peace that pervaded the place. The atmosphere was further made jolly by the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Bustle, an elderly
Englisch
couple who were like parents to Dr. Williams. And, of course, Sarah was very pregnant and both the Bustles and Grant treated her as if she were spun glass.
Grant Williams tended to Pretty’s foot with ease, remarking that Seth had done a good job the night before in cleaning the wound. Abel watched with openmouthed fascination, and Grace wondered if Abel might be able to tend to the animals when he grew up. It didn’t matter what he did, so long as he was happy. But she couldn’t help worrying sometimes.
“What are you thinking?” Seth asked quietly.
“I was just wondering about Abel,” she said. “About his future. What he’ll be, how he’ll live.”
“Don’t worry about him. You know he’ll always have a place in the community.”
“I suppose.”
Grace looked up in time to see a peculiar look pass over Sarah’s face.
“Grant?” Grace called.
“Jah?”
“If you’re done, I think Sarah—”
Grant was by his wife’s side in seconds. “Is it the baby, Sarah?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “It’s time.”
“All right,” Mrs. Bustle interjected, sweeping Grace and Seth aside. “Let’s get to the hospital, shall we?”
Seth looked at Grant. “Are you going to be all right going alone in the buggy?”
“What buggy?” Mrs. Bustle laughed. “We happen to be
Englisch
, and we own a twelve-cylinder red Jaguar.”
Grace watched as Mr. Bustle roared up to the porch and herded everyone in, and then with a wave and a beep of the horn, they were off to the hospital.
Grace piled into the buggy with her husband,
sohn
, and dog.
“Well, that was some excitement for the day,” Seth said.
“Why is she going to the hospital?” Abel asked. “And how are they going to get the baby out?”
Grace met Seth’s eyes over the top of their
sohn’s
head and tried not to laugh out loud.
A
lice Miller was saying good-bye. It was an emotional time for the entire family.
“Why not stay on through the fall?” Seth asked.
“I can’t, but I’ll come back and visit next summer, if you’ll have me.”
“Oh, Alice, of course we will,” Grace said. “I don’t know how to thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”