Abigail's New Hope (10 page)

Although the girl couldn’t read either
Deutsch
or English yet, Laura studied the paper with interest. Perhaps she recognized Abby’s handwriting, but more likely she yearned for any reason to believe things weren’t as grim as they seemed. “She will come home to us?” Laura sniffed as her nose began to run.

Catherine pulled out the clean handkerchief she kept up her sleeve and handed it to the child. “Dry your eyes and blow your nose. Everything will be all right. Your
mamm
will be home soon. In the meantime, you and I need to rustle up dinner in the kitchen. What would my sister say if we allowed the menfolk to go hungry?”

“She would get mad. My
daed
likes his supper on time. He says he gets hungry trying to keep crows from eating the corn all day.”

Catherine laughed, rose to her feet, and stretched out a hand to her niece. “Then we’d better go downstairs and get something started. Do we need Jake’s help or should he stay up here?”

Laura pursed her lips while considering the question. “He’s not much help in the kitchen.” To Jake she said, “You stay up here and work on the barn. Those
cuhs
need a roof over their heads before the next rain.” She pointed at the plastic cows. “We’ll call you when it’s time to eat.” Then she shyly accepted her aunt’s hand.

Catherine marveled at the way the six-year-old readily assumed a near-parental role over her four-year-old sibling. Abigail’s absence would affect these two, but she silently vowed not to let those changes affect them adversely.

When they reached the kitchen, they saw James sitting at the table drinking a Coke. “I found Daniel in the barn sharpening his cutting blades,” he said. “I see you found the missing
kinner
.” He offered his niece an exaggerated wink and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Go wash your hands and face, Laura, before we start cooking.” Catherine waited until the girl scampered off before addressing her brother. “They were afraid that if I stayed here, their
mamm
would never come home,” she whispered.

James shook his head. “You have to wonder where youngins get their ideas.” He took a long drink.

“What did Daniel say? Is he on his way up to the house?”

He met her gaze over the rim of the can. “
Jah
, I talked to him. He said he has two chickens plucked, cut up, and ready to fry for supper. They are in the fridge.”

She waited but he relayed nothing else. “That’s all you two talked about—a pair of plucked hens? What is the news about our sister?” She glanced at the closed bathroom door. “Should I walk to the barn to speak to him?”

James shook his head while slowly rising to his full height. “No, I think you should stay in here and fry up those chickens. Try to keep a low profile, if that’s possible, Cat.” He crushed the soda can with one powerful fist and tossed it in the blue recycle bin. “Our brother-in-law has never been a man of long speeches, but today he was downright uncommunicative. This whole mess with Abigail riled him up. He’ll talk to you when he’s ready. I wouldn’t press him.” James locked gazes with her for a long moment. “Tend to Abby’s
kinner
and cut Daniel a wide swath. He wants his wife at home, not sitting in some jail cell. Until that happens, he probably won’t be in the best of moods.” He set his straw hat on the back of his head. “Now, I’d better head for home. Take care of yourself, sister. And send word or leave a message on the neighbor’s answering machine if you need me.” With a toss of his head, he motioned toward the barn.

The meaning of his cryptic gesture was lost on Catherine. “I will stay until Abby is back to care for her family herself.” She followed James onto the porch. “Wait. There’s one more thing. Laura mentioned that Abby must stay in jail because they didn’t have enough money. What could that mean?”

He glanced toward the driveway where his horse scratched impatiently in the dirt. “The court must have set her bail too high for Daniel to pay.”

“Aren’t there people to help with that sort of thing? I saw an ad in an English newspaper about loans against farm equity.”

“That’s Daniel and Abby’s business, little sister. Don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong—it might get bit off.” He started down the steps with Catherine on his heels.

“She’s my
schwester
and I’d bet she’s suffering in that cell. I’d say that makes it my business.”

James stopped short. He turned around so fast she bumped into him. His facial expression needed no words of explanation.

“At least it’s
somewhat
my business.” She backed up two paces.

“Remember that I warned you, Catherine. But you’ll probably listen the same way you heeded my warnings about the honeybee hive and the pond’s thin ice. Just keep our neighbor’s phone number handy, and I’ll come get you—missing a nose and all.” He strode toward his buggy with a broad grin.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Both of those incidents were more than ten years ago,” she called.

“Tigers and willful sisters seldom change their stripes.” With a wave of his hand, James left for home, leaving Catherine in the dusty driveway. She glanced toward the barn—still no sign of her brother-in-law—and then she looked at the house. Her niece was peeking from behind the kitchen curtain again. Catherine walked back to the house to chickens that needed frying and a niece and nephew who required reassurance. But a tiny seed of unease took root in her heart and began to grow.

D
aniel Graber had always been content with his life. The Lord had blessed him with a good wife, healthy children, and acres of productive land to farm. He grew most of the food they ate, raised dairy and beef cattle, and owned good-laying hens. For water he had a deep well, a spring-fed pond stocked with trout, and access to a fast-flowing river for summertime dips. He loved his wife. She had never given him one sleepless night in ten years of marriage. Now, through a misjudgment on her part, a misstep that broke an English law, she was locked in a jail cell instead of being home where she belonged.

Why would an English judge require half a million dollars to make certain Abigail would appear in his courtroom? If he asked her to come back another day to state what happened at the Fisher farm, she would show up—not that she hadn’t already explained the events several times to the EMTs, the sheriff, the coroner, Dr. Weller, and to her court-appointed attorney. Did
Englischers
who ran afoul of the law pay such sums to the court? He couldn’t fathom it. Abby’s fancy-dressed lawyer had stopped over to explain the bondman’s business, and it smacked of money-changing in the temple in Daniel’s estimation. Plain folk didn’t put up titles to their farms to strangers in exchange for a guarantee that a man would appear in court, except that this person was a woman—and his wife, no less.

In all his life, Daniel could count on one hand the number of Amish folk who had ever been arrested. And the crimes committed had usually been for
rumschpringe
pranks of mischief.

Never a woman and certainly not the daughter of a bishop.

Each time he thought about the situation, he was filled with shame and anger. If that newcomer Nathan Fisher had called for an ambulance the way he should have, Abby wouldn’t be sitting in jail for doing nothing other than delivering a baby. Tomorrow, the bishop would visit with the other ministerial brethren to discuss what should be done. They would know how to get Abby back home where she belonged.

With tired muscles and a weary spirit, Daniel finished feeding the livestock and washed up in the former pump house. The old copper bathtub still leaned against the wall—a nostalgic reminder of Saturday night baths before the days of indoor plumbing and propane hot water tanks. His
grossmammi
used to heat kettles of water on the wood-fired stove and then scent the steaming tub with bayberries and cloves. Now they showered with soap-on-a-rope, and their Plain lifestyles had grown easier but not simpler.

When Daniel entered the house, he found Laura and Jake already seated at the table. His sister-in-law was pulling a fry pan from the oven with giant mitts. “
Gut nacht
, Catherine,” he mumbled, hanging his hat on a peg. He ruffled the downy blond hair of his son and pulled one of his daughter’s
kapp
strings.

“Good evening to you, Daniel. I was about ready to look for you. Laura said you liked to eat earlier than this, and everything has been finished for an hour.”

“I must finish chores before settling down to a meal.” He cast her an appraising glance. Was she scolding him on her first day in his home? Catherine was younger, smaller, and more opinionated than Abigail. It didn’t surprise him that no man was seriously courting her. Besides an ornery temperament, her dark hair was drab, whereas Abby’s auburn mane was as fiery as an autumn sunset. And Catherine’s eyes were a watery shade of blue instead of the rich sapphire of his wife’s.

“I said shall I scoop some noodles for you?” She hovered next to his chair with Abby’s favorite ceramic bowl in hand.

“
Jah
, give me a spoonful.” He speared two pieces of chicken from the platter and then placed a drumstick on each of the
kinner
’s plates. “Abby doesn’t use that bowl for everyday. She saves it for good.”

Catherine served noodles to his children and then sat down in his wife’s chair. “Why not? Using a bowl won’t wear it out like table linens or bed sheets.” She looked genuinely perplexed.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask your sister that question.” He bit into a chicken breast. The breading was greasy yet the meat tasted dry. “Is there nothing to drink with this meal? Some cold milk or iced tea?”

“Sure, I’ll get the milk, but I didn’t make any tea. No one told me you favored it over milk or water.”

“I don’t particularly favor one over the other. Abigail sets both on the table and lets me decide.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Catherine took four glasses from the cupboard and the pitcher of milk from the refrigerator.

“The young ones use plastic cups, not glass.” Daniel watched her while trying to swallow the dry meat.

Her shoulders stiffened as she filled two glasses with milk and returned to the cupboard for another selection. “Will these red, white, and blue ones suffice or are there
particular
plastic cups I should learn about?”

Daniel glanced up to see if she was teasing him. She appeared earnest while waiting for his reply. “The stars-and-stripes will do fine.”

She poured the milk and then sat down to her own dinner. She’d taken small helpings compared to Abby’s.

“What did you put in this salad?” he asked.

A smile bloomed across Catherine’s face. “I found some cooked bacon strips in the fridge. So I crumbled them up and tossed it in with the spinach. That’s how they fix spinach salad in fancy restaurants. The only difference is that I didn’t see any mushrooms, but I did mix up a fresh garlic-and-buttermilk dressing.”

“We seldom have mushrooms on hand because we don’t have a cave on the farm.” After a moment, a thought occurred to him. “Is this the bacon from the green Tupperware container? I was saving that for bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches for tomorrow’s lunch.”

“Oh, my. I’m sorry, Daniel. I’ll fry some extra bacon tomorrow at breakfast. And pick another tomato if any more are ripe.” Her focus fell on the chopped tomato ringing the edge of the salad bowl.

“All the rest are still green,” Daniel whined. He wasn’t sure why he was making a big deal out of a vegetable, but he didn’t like the way Abby’s sister had just taken over his kitchen.

Catherine set down her fork and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “You don’t have a problem with Abby inviting me to stay here, do you?”

“No. I’m grateful you are here. Jake and Laura need someone to look after them while I work the fields. And I don’t have time to wash clothes and cook meals along with the farm chores, even if I knew how.” He glanced at his daughter. Laura was listening to their conversation with great interest. “I didn’t mean to sound like you’re not welcome, Catherine, because you are.”