The Haven (19 page)

Every place on a farm had its own sound, if you stopped and listened. Will liked to identify those sounds as he walked through the fields each morning before dawn to check on the falcons. The streams that crisscrossed through Windmill Farm had a soft, gurgling sound. The crops in the fields had a rustling sound, like they were whispering. The trees had a sound—pine needles dropping as the branches waved in the wind. The rocky ridge on the northern edge of the farm had a sound—pinging sounds that echoed.

Will climbed a tree to watch the falcons with a telescope just as the sky began to brighten. Adam flew off the edge of the scape and circled overhead. Will watched him glide on the warming air currents, stretching his wings in the mist. Eve remained in the scape, as he expected, incubating her brood.

Sure enough, a whitish down head with a disproportionately large beak poked around Eve’s body. The first eyase to hatch! He expected the next one to hatch today or tomorrow, with the other ones to follow. He watched the small chick until the sun had emerged on the horizon, filled with wonder and awe. It was times like this that he thought Amos Lapp might be right, that God had a plan. It was a phrase Amos repeated often, especially when he told Will stories about Menno as a boy. It seemed as if he always wrapped up a memory of Menno with that phrase, “God has a plan,” like it was a benediction. An “Amen.”

Will rubbed the back of his head, feeling the goose-egged lump from yesterday’s surprising encounter with a volleyball. When he had come to, twenty Amish teens were staring down at him with deeply concerned looks on their faces. Sadie fussed over him the entire evening, bringing fresh ice for him to hold against his head and checking the pupils of his eyes for signs of a concussion.

“I’m fine,” he kept reassuring her. She wanted to take him home but he insisted on staying. To be honest, he enjoyed the attention he was getting from everyone. It felt like he had finally broken through that invisible wall that separated him from these Amish people, the wall he felt whenever he was at their church service. All but with that Gideon guy, the one who whacked him with the ball. Sadie was furious with Gideon. He offered up a weak apology to Will, something lame about how a bee landed on him just as he was serving up the ball. “There was no bee,” Sadie whispered loudly, after Gideon sauntered off. She glared at his back with a look he wasn’t accustomed to seeing on her sweet face. Like she was about to go after him with a shovel as if she was killing vermin.

He wouldn’t have missed the barbecue for anything. The food was the best grilled food he had ever eaten, bar none—chicken and steak, smothered in thick sauce, spicy baked beans, coleslaw that was nothing like the soggy mess his mother served, three kinds of pie for dessert. And still, everyone kept fussing over him like he had suffered a mortal blow! Hardly that. His head was harder than a pileated woodpecker’s, his father often told him.

Now, if Sadie had insisted that they leave before the singing, it wouldn’t have been hard to be persuaded to go. He hadn’t realized there was singing involved—she had just called it a youth gathering. But after his third helping of pie, she seemed confident that he was fine and didn’t ask him again if he wanted to leave.

Afterward, he was glad they stayed. The singing was different from those long, lugubrious hymns sung during the lengthy Amish church service. For one thing, the host asked others to call out requests to sing. Like eager bidders at an auction, several shouted out song titles. Unlike Sunday church, they sang only one stanza of each, and it was easy to tell these were favorites. Also, unlike church, these tunes were quick, with a beat. The boys took a turn alone, bellowing the melody like they were a marching band made up of tubas and trombones, trying to impress the girls with their deep, honking voices. Then the girls took a turn at it. It had struck Will that the sound of women’s voices had a tinny sound—nothing that came anywhere close to raising the roof like the boys did. The girls sounded like a little choir of flutes and piccolos. Except for Sadie’s. Her voice rang the truest.

He had a surprisingly enjoyable evening, sore head and all.

The ringing of his cell phone cut off Will’s wandering thoughts and pulled him back to the present. He set the scope in a nook on the tree and looked at who would be calling him at 5:34 a.m. Mahlon Miller, the game warden. Will sagged.

“Morning, Mahlon,” he said as he answered.

“Have any hatched?”

Not even a hello. Or, how are you, Will? Need anything? Like, food, money, clean laundry, transportation? “First one. I’m watching it now. Looks like a viable eyase.”

“Good. As soon as the clutch is hatched, I want you to think about how you’re going to band them.”

Will was silent for a moment.

“You’ve banded before. Your father told me you had. He said you had volunteered at a raptor rescue center and banded hundreds of birds.”

Aha! Will’s father was behind this. “Well, yeah, I’ve had a little bit of experience with banding. But not out in the wild. Not when the parents were hovering nearby.” At the raptor rescue center, Will had become so good at banding that he was dubbed the Band-Aid. Banding birds provided important information on the birds’ movements and habitat needs year-round. These metal bands on the birds’ legs were uniquely lettered and numbered by the government so that if the birds were observed later, or found injured or dead, they could be identified. “Don’t you have an expert bander in the office?”

“Nope. Well, we do have a guy who usually does banding, but he’s out on paternity leave. He said you just gotta act quick so it reduces stress on the birds.”

What about the stress on the unpaid intern? Act quick so that he didn’t get his eyes pecked out by Adam and Eve. Quick so that they didn’t try to strike him with their powerful feet. Quick so that they didn’t carry him away with their razor-sharp talons and drop him, like a stone, into the field.

Banding a falcon chick was serious work. Adam and Eve would turn into threatened predators if anyone—or anything—messed with their clutch. Just a moment ago, he watched Adam capture, in midflight, a menacing crow that flew too close to the scape. Eve was provided with fresh crow for breakfast. “I thought that fell under game warden duties.”

“Nope. It’s part of your internship duties.”

Will doubted that. “Do you have suggestions?”

“Well, I’d recommend you wait until the parents are away from the scape.” He snorted a few times, as if he had made a funny joke.

Will rolled his eyes.

“Timing is critical. Besides watching out for falcons, that’s another reason I put you out there on that farm. There’s really only one day that is the ideal point to band—the foot is small enough for the band to go over the toes, but not too small that the band falls off. They can start fledging at three weeks—especially the males, and they’ll begin to leave the scape for short times.” Mahlon took a long slurp of coffee. “As soon as you tell me how many eyases are in the clutch and what sex they are, I’ll put in a request for the bands and drop them off next time I see you. You’d better start figuring out how you’re going to do it.” And he hung up.

Will stared at the phone in his hand. Broken connections—wasn’t that the story of his life?

Passing over him, Adam cried out a complaint, letting Will know he was horning in on his territory. As a serious birder, Will knew it was ridiculous to attribute human characteristics to birds, to any animals. Anthropomorphism, such foolishness was called. But still, he talked to wild things like he expected them to answer. He cupped his mouth and shouted at Adam, “I’m not doing anything to hurt your babies. If anything, I’m helping them.” Adam circled near him again, uncomfortably close, as if he knew exactly what Will was talking about. He let out a
cack cack cack cack
—one of a wide range of sounds he made. As if he wanted to taunt Will by saying, “Who do you think you’re fooling?”

O
ff-Sundays had their own feel. On Sundays without church, everyone was allowed to sleep in and start the day slowly. M.K.’s father was the only one who would rise early, feed the stock, but then he would head back to the couch in the family room and lie down. “Just resting my eyes,” he would tell M.K., if she tried to stir him. The only part of the day M.K. didn’t like was that Fern didn’t make a hot breakfast like she normally did—today’s offerings were cold cereal or toast. She said it was her off-Sunday too.

On this morning, M.K. felt as jumpy as popcorn in a skillet, waiting to hear the first sound of Sadie stirring upstairs. She had the cradle hidden in a corner of the family room, covered by a blanket. She knew Sadie would be home late from the gathering last night, and she didn’t want to miss seeing the look on her sister’s face. She knew better than to wake Sadie up. Even she wasn’t that big of a fool.

Finally, M.K. heard Sadie’s door open and her light steps come down the stairs. Fern was in the family room, feeding the baby a bottle. Her dad was in his chair. reading the Bible and sipping coffee. Sadie went to the kitchen and poured cereal into a bowl.

Perfect. The moment was perfect.

M.K. cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “I have here a lovely gift to present to you, made by Gideon Smucker himself, to show Sadie how deep are his affections.”

When M.K. was satisfied that everyone’s attention was on her, she whipped off the blanket to reveal the cradle. Sadie gasped, and Amos jumped up out of his seat to see it.

Holding her cereal bowl in one hand, Sadie came over to look at it. “Gid made it? Why, it’s beautiful!”

M.K. pushed one side of the cradle, to show Sadie how it could rock, but didn’t realize how close Sadie was standing to the cradle. When it knocked Sadie’s knee, her cereal bowl dropped into the cradle. The bottom of the cradle fell out, clattering to the ground. M.K. grabbed the side of the cradle to hold it in place, but the top rail came apart in her hands. One by one, the dowels popped out like springs. They watched, amazed, as the entire cradle began to collapse, side by side, piece by piece.

Amos bent down and examined a joint. “He must have forgotten to glue the joints.”

“Glue?” M.K. said in a small, squeaky voice. “It needed glue?”

“
Forgot
to glue them?” Sadie shook her head. “I doubt it. Oh Gideon. You have sunk to a new low.”

Fern blew air out of her cheeks. “That boy. He needs to shake the snowflakes out of his head.”

Two days later, all four eggs in the clutch had hatched. Will called Mr. Petosky to give him an update.

“That’s good. That’s very good news. Have you told the game warden there are four?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Don’t tell him.”

“I don’t have to. There are ten avid bird-watchers staked out who’ve already spotted them.”

Mr. Petosky sighed. “Look, I’m going to need two of them.”

“What?! But you only said one. One is reasonable. It won’t raise any red flags. We always talked about one.”

“That was before we knew there were four viable eyases. It’s not a big deal. The game warden will never get suspicious. I’ll get you the bands this week so you can just switch them out with the warden’s bands. You know as well as I do that the chance of all four eyases making it to the fledgling stage is very unlikely.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Stuff happens in nature. All the time. He knows that.”

Will didn’t respond. He couldn’t deny that truth.

“That’s what happened to me. Nature took a swipe—just like it took on you with that nasty DUI. I’m just trying to recoup.” The hard edge of Mr. Petosky’s voice softened as he added, “Look at it this way, Will. This is good for the falcons. A very good thing. To take a falcon chick or two from the wild and allow it to breed in captivity—it strengthens the entire species. This is a good thing for the falcon, it’s good for my breeding stock, and it’s good for you.”

Will heard the click of Mr. Petosky’s phone as he hung up. What was it he had learned in an ethics class last fall? Opportunity + pressure + rationalization create a fraud triangle.

Of all the lawyers Will could have found, he had happened upon a falconer. That fact had come up when the lawyer had called Will to tell him his credit card payment had been declined—the very day he had started his internship and discovered the falcon pair. Mr. Petosky had called Will as he was out stocking trout in the creek near Windmill Farm and recognized the shrieking sound of the falcons in the background. They had a very nice conversation about falcons and that was when Mr. Petosky told him not to worry about the legal fees. They could work something out.

And so he did.

The next day, Mr. Petosky showed up at the game warden’s office. Will walked him to his car, away from Mahlon Miller’s listening ears. Mr. Petosky told Will that he had thought of a way to help Will. He had a little side business of falcon breeding. This spring, a virus had run through his hatchery and wiped out his stock. He just needed a little bit of help to rebuild. A fledgling here, one there, and he would be able to supply his customers and stay in business. Will knew how ethical falconers were—it was a cardinal virtue. And the offer from Mr. Petosky came at a moment when Will was desperate. Mr. Petosky offered to take care of all of his legal bills associated with the DUI. Down to the penny, he said. “The entire unpleasant business will go away, like it never happened.” He snapped his fingers to illustrate his point. “You’ll be back on track. I’ll be back on track. Everything can get back on track.” By June 16, the day Will was due in court.

Gid loved this time of day. It was after four and the last scholar had finished up and gone home. A satisfying day of teaching, followed by the gentle slant of the sun as it reached the westward facing windows. The last thing he needed to do was to erase the blackboard. He picked up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, stood, stretched, and started to wipe the board clean.

“Gid?”

Sadie Lapp was standing three feet away from him.

The tips of Gid’s ears started to burn. “Sadie, what a nice surprise.” Could she hear his heart? Because it sounded like a bongo drum was in his chest.
Bah-bum
. . .
bah-bum
. . .
bah-bum
. . .

Sadie had a way of holding her hands at waist level, close to her body, fingers tightly interlaced. She stood that way, just a short distance from Gid’s desk, and took a quick breath as if to say something, but stopped. She shook her head and frowned.

Something was on her mind to say and he thought he might as well help her out. He had to lick his lips because they were so dry. “Did you know that penguins don’t have ears?” Oh smooth, very smooth, he told himself. Rule number one, whenever you can’t think of the right thing to say, just start spouting pointless trivia. That should warm the heart of any woman.

Sadie looked confused. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh. Mary Kate did a book report on that very thing today. About penguins not having ears. She wondered if they realized that they have wings but they can’t fly. That they were birds . . . but not really. That got an interesting discussion going in class . . .” His voice trailed off as he caught the baffled look on Sadie’s face.
Let’s try this again.
“Did you like those little cakes?”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Like them?”

“Was it . . . too hard to understand?” Maybe Mrs. Stroot was right—maybe Sadie didn’t know what “mea culpa” meant. He shouldn’t have used Latin. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did he have to make things so complicated?

“Oh no. You were very clear.”

This wasn’t going well. Sadie was looking at him as if he were an ax murderer. What had he done wrong? Let’s try this again. “Did the baby fit in the cradle?”

“How could he?” She put her hands on her hips and looked—well, an awful lot like her housekeeper, Stern Fern. “Have you completely lost your mind? Why would you try to hurt a baby? An innocent little child?”

“What?!”

“The cradle fell apart. Like dominoes.”

Gid was stunned. He thought he had tested every piece of that cradle. He should have held off another day, just to make absolutely sure all of the glue in the joints had dried. He had been so eager to take it to Sadie on the night of the gathering that he didn’t want to wait. He never would have given Sadie a cradle that wasn’t sound. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

She frowned at him. “The other night, you aimed that volleyball right at Will’s head. Don’t tell me you didn’t. You’re much too athletic to not have controlled that serve.”

How could he defend himself against that? It was true. Sports had always come naturally to him, and generally, he always held back a little, even as a child on the school playground. But he had never considered himself very competitive. Until now.

She folded her arms against her chest. “And besides, I saw that evil look in your eyes just before you served it.”

That was also true. When Gid saw the cowboy kiss Sadie, he was surprised at how suddenly and violently his anger was aroused. When the opportunity presented itself to wallop Will Stoltz in the head with the volleyball, Gid took it.

It was a warm afternoon, thick with humidity, and Gid suddenly felt so closed in that he wasn’t sure he could even frame a complete sentence.

“Why would you do such a thing? Then . . . you left those horrible little cakes!”

He blinked twice. “But I thought—” He had tried so hard to get it right! Why were they horrible little cakes?

“What kind of a message is
that
: ‘You lie.’”

What?! But that wasn’t the message he had left for her! How could this have happened? Confusion swirled through his head like gray fog.

Sadie’s controlled calm was gone as her voice snapped like a twig. “How dare you say something like that? Why would you do such a thing?”

A protest sprang to his lips. “But that’s not . . . ! Someone must have rearranged the—”

“Oh sure . . . blame others.”

His mind, so nimble in front of a classroom of twenty-five scholars, was absolutely paralyzed. He needed to let his mind stop racing long enough to relax, so that he sounded like a normal person, but there was no time! He couldn’t seem to string two words together. All that ran through his head was how hurt Sadie must have felt when she saw the little cakes. They
were
horrible!
No wonder she’s been avoiding me.

She was mad now, really steaming. “I thought . . . I thought I knew you, Gid.” Sadie’s blue eyes were boring into his, glowing with anger, waiting for a reply. “Don’t you have
anything
to say for yourself?”

He had plenty to say for himself, but it was hard to get the words organized when she was staring at him as if he was the scholar and she was the teacher.
I’m so sorry, Sadie. For not trusting you. For misunderstanding. For being a clumsy oaf. For everything.
The words were in his mouth, smooth and round like marbles, but what came out was this: “You let him kiss you.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. A slow flush creeping up her throat to her cheeks was the only indication that she might have heard him at all. “I didn’t let—”

“I saw it, Sadie. You were at Blue Lake Pond, and he kissed you.”

“I . . . he . . .” She sighed. “Yes, he kissed me. I didn’t expect it.”

“You didn’t seem to dislike it.”

Between collar and hairline, her neck turned rosy pink. “I was . . . surprised by it.”

As fast as a comet streaking across the heavens, Gid’s holy outrage passed. She was so lovely; of course another man would court her. He couldn’t blame Sadie for seeking someone else. He hadn’t trusted her.

But he didn’t know how to say all of this to Sadie, and she was growing impatient with him.

“It’s none of your business who I kissed or who I didn’t. You and I might have kept company in December, but that’s all it was. Just a few rides home from youth gatherings now and then.”

That’s all he was to her? A ride home now and then? That was the sum of what he meant to her? Gid felt as if he was suddenly smaller, deflated. “Not any of my business? None of my business?” For some reason Gid couldn’t stop there. Words kept pouring out. “Sadie, ever since you got back from Ohio . . . it seems like you’re slipping away.”