An Uncommon Grace (5 page)

“Sarah does not have many
Englisch
words yet,” Albert informed her.

“I do,” Jesse volunteered. “I have many
Englisch
words.”

She had no idea what they were talking about.

“Our children usually speak only German when they are small,” Levi explained. “They don’t learn
Englisch
until they go to school.” He gently tweaked the little girl’s nose. “I think Sarah understands some of what you said, but she is being bashful.”

“Oh.” She absorbed that information. That would explain why the few small Amish children she had spoken to on the street since moving here had given her sweet smiles but not answered.

“How did you get here?” she asked.

“The sheriff came after you left. He called a driver for us after he finished asking questions.” Levi looked worried.
“I—I did not refuse. It would have been hard on our horse to come so far and it would have taken a long time.”

At that moment Dr. Allen entered the room. He was an older man and his face was gray with fatigue. He did not look happy.

“Are you Claire Shetler’s family?” he asked.

“We are.” Levi swallowed hard. “Does my mother live?”

“Yes.” Dr. Allen glanced at the children clustered around Levi and forced a smile. “She’s . . . fine.”

“And the babe?” Levi’s voice sounded strained.

“We are airlifting him to Children’s Hospital in Columbus.”

“My mother had a boy?”

“She awoke long enough to name him Daniel. We had to do a C-section because of . . . complications, but he does have a fighting chance.”

“Did the bullet—?”

“If I were you”—Dr. Allen threw a glance at the children— “I would concentrate on caring for these little ones for now.”

“Can we see our
Maam
?” Jesse asked.

Karen approached them with a clipboard in her hand. “Mrs. Shetler is asking to see”—she gave Grace a strange glance—“you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. She specifically asked for you, even though I told her I thought her family had arrived.”

“Then I’ll go see what she wants.”

As Grace got to her feet, Karen handed Levi the clipboard and a pen.

“While he fills these papers out, I’ll take you to her,” Karen said.

After they had walked far enough away for Levi and the children not to hear, Karen filled her in.

“The bullet managed to miss the uterus,” Karen said. “But all the trauma compromised the pregnancy. Dr. Allen had no choice than to take the child by C-section. We had to use three units of blood to stabilize the mother. It was very close. If you hadn’t been there to help . . .” Karen shook her head. “I’ve lived here my whole life and I admire the Amish for so many things—but those ultraconservative sects that don’t allow any type of telephone at all . . .” Again Karen shook her head. “None of my business, of course. It’s a free country.”

“None of my business, either,” Grace said. “Except that today it suddenly became my business.”

When Grace arrived in the recovery room, Claire was so pale that she nearly blended in with the white sheets. Even her blond hair, still pinned closely to her head, seemed colorless, harshly illuminated by the hospital lights.

“How are you feeling?” Grace took hold of Claire’s hand lying limply on the sheets. It was ice cold.

“The babe . . .”

“Dr. Allen says he has a chance.”

“A chance.” Claire gave a great sigh.

“Children’s Hospital is one of the best in the world. He should be there soon. They will take good care of him.”

“My Abraham is gone?”

“Yes.” Grace’s heart broke for the woman. “I am so sorry.”

“I thought that is what I heard you say in the ambulance.”

“We thought you were unconscious.”

“The words got into my mind anyway.” Tears silently crept down Claire’s cheeks and neck, dampening the front of her hospital gown.

“Was there something you wanted me to do?” Grace grabbed a tissue and handed it to her. “Is there some way I can help?”

“I wanted you to come because I cannot yet be strong for my children.” Claire took the tissue and wiped her eyes. “I need more time before they see me.”

“I don’t think anyone is expecting you to be strong. You have been through a terrible ordeal today.”

“A mother must be strong for her children, and I—I cannot be strong. Not yet.”

“Do you want Levi to come in to see you? I can stay with the children.”

“No,” Claire said. “My Levi does not need to see me like this.”

Grace was at a loss. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“You own a vehicle?”

“I do.”

“Could you take my children to my sister’s home? Levi will tell you how to get there. They will be well cared for if they are with Rose. And then, please take Levi to my little Daniel. The babe will need someone beside him as he fights for his life. He should not be alone.”

“I’ll be happy to do that, but your baby won’t be alone. There are wonderful doctors and nurses there.”

“The babe will need someone who loves him—someone whose voice he knows.”

“What about you? Don’t you need someone to stay here with you?”

Grace vividly remembered recovering from the broken arm and collarbone, fractured ribs, and internal injuries she had sustained when the MRAP in which she was riding had taken a direct hit. Those mine-resistant vehicles were good at absorbing the blow of a homemade bomb, but if the explosion was a large one—and the roadside bomb Grace’s MRAP triggered had involved nearly three hundred pounds of explosives—they sometimes overturned with troops inside.

That hospital stay had felt awfully lonely with no family beside her.

“You are not familiar with Amish ways.” A wisp of a smile crossed Claire’s face. “I will not be alone for long.”

“I’m glad to know that.”

A fresh-faced young deputy entered the room.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Shetler, but I need to find out what you can tell us about the person who shot you and your husband. Did you see his face?”

“No. He wore a mask, and gloves.” Her eyes were haunted, remembering. “Somehow he knew about the horse that Abraham had taken to auction the day before, and even though we gave him everything we had, it wasn’t enough. He thought we were holding back.”

“But why you?” Grace asked. “Why on earth would he shoot a pregnant woman?”

“I had a little money upstairs in my purse. Not much. I told him I would go get it. He followed me up there, but when he saw how little it was . . .”

“He shot you because there wasn’t enough money in your purse?” Grace wished she could get her hands on the man—whoever he was.

“He was disappointed.” Claire’s voice sounded weary. “And very angry. I think
er is weenich aub
—he’s a little off in the head. Or perhaps that is what people act like when they are on drugs?”

“I don’t know what the man’s problem was.” The officer’s voice was grim. “But we’re going to do everything we can to find him.”

“I’ll take your children to your sister’s and Levi to be with little Daniel,” Grace said. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just concentrate on getting better.”

It wasn’t until she was passing the nurses’ station that she
remembered she didn’t have a car. She had left it back at the Shetlers’.

“Is everything okay?” Karen stopped typing and looked up from her computer.

“As okay as it can be. She asked me to take her younger kids to her sister’s and her oldest son to Children’s, but I came here in the ambulance. Is there a car rental place here in Millersburg?”

Without missing a beat, Karen reached into an oversized purse sitting at her feet and pulled out a ring of keys. “Here. Take mine. It’s the blue minivan in the side lot. Hit the button and it’ll beep.”

“I can’t take your van,” Grace said.

“Sure you can.” Karen jingled them in front of her. “Welcome to Holmes County—a place where people help each other.”

“How will you get home if I take your car?”

“I can catch a ride. One of the other nurses lives near my house.” She jotted a number on a slip of paper. “Call me when you get back and I’ll give you directions.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“From one former Dustoff nurse to another—I absolutely don’t mind.”

“I really appreciate it. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”

“Before you go”—Karen handed her the keys, then leaned forward and lowered her voice—“how well do you know this Amish family?”

“Not well. Why?”

“I don’t know if this could be important to you, but I know a little about Claire Shetler. I heard about her when I did a rotation in obstetrics.”

“I know she considers herself a healer. Is there a problem with that?”

“No. As Amish healers go, Claire is one of the better ones.”

“So—what does this have to do with taking her kids to her sister’s?”

Karen looked uneasy. “It’s not the children.” She nodded toward Levi. “It’s him.”

“Him?”

“The oldest son.” Karen leaned closer and lowered her voice even further. “These people are Swartzentrubers.”

“I thought their name was Shetler.”

“It is Shetler. Swartzentruber is the name of their religious order.”

Grace shifted the strap of her black medical bag to her other shoulder. “I just thought they were Amish.”

“They are Amish.”

“Okay. I’m lost.”

“That’s why I’m telling you this. If the Amish had a caste system, the Swartzentrubers would be at the bottom. They are the most conservative of all the branches. They are also the poorest. The Swartzentrubers are so conservative, they even sets limits on how much money a man can make. If they make more than a certain amount, they are required to hand it over to the church to be used for no-interest loans to others within their church. And sometimes teenagers from the other Amish sects call them names.”

“Like what?”

Karen glanced over at Levi in the far corner of the waiting room to make certain he wasn’t listening. “
Gnuddel vullahs.
”

“You speak German?”

“It helps around here to learn a little. It means ‘woolly lumps.’”

“I don’t get it.”

“They milk by hand, not machine. Some of them get lumps of manure and dirt matted in their long beards.” Karen bit her lip. “I don’t
mean to speak ill of anyone, but they don’t allow indoor plumbing, so some of them can’t bathe all that often.”

Grace looked over her shoulder at Levi. He was sitting, quietly entertaining the three children. Aside from his odd haircut and Amish clothes, he looked fairly normal to her. “He doesn’t even have a beard to get matted.”

“That’s because he isn’t married,” Karen said. “They usually don’t grow one until then.”

“Why are you telling me this? Am I supposed to be afraid of him?”

“It isn’t you who has reason to be afraid, it’s him. A single Swartzentruber man being seen alone with someone like you could get him disciplined by his church.”

“What do you mean—someone like me?”

“I think you look fine,” Karen said. “You’re cute as a button in that outfit. But in a Swartzentruber man’s eyes—especially in their bishop’s eyes—you are dressed like a harlot.”

A bubble of resentment caused Grace to press down a little harder than necessary on the accelerator as they left the hospital. She couldn’t help the way she was dressed. She had been inside her grandma’s house, minding her own business, washing breakfast dishes when Levi had come galloping up. She had reacted quickly—like the professional she was. The last thing on her mind was what she was wearing. In her opinion, she was dressed completely appropriately for someone on a warm spring day inside a farmhouse with no air-conditioning.

Karen’s words were not meant to hurt, but they stung anyway. A harlot? Grace couldn’t remember the last time she had even heard that old-fashioned term. Somehow, the archaic aspect of it made it sound even dirtier.

Now, here she was, painfully aware that Levi was studiously staring out the passenger-side window—no doubt to avoid the sight of her bare legs.

She hadn’t asked for this job. She didn’t
want
this job. Trying to be a good neighbor in this area obviously could be a pain in the neck.

She tugged at the hem of her shorts, trying to make them cover just a little more flesh. No luck. They covered what they covered, and deep down she had to agree with Karen—that wasn’t much.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to your house to pack some things for the children before we take them to their aunt’s?” she asked.

Levi’s eyes stayed fixed on the acres and acres of fields filled with broken cornstalks, as though they were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. “It is not necessary. Our aunt Rose has
Kinner
of her own—she will have what they need.”

“But it would only take a few minutes to turn around.”

“I do not want to go back to where our father died. It would not be good for the children. Not until our people have . . . cleaned.”

How right he was—and how wrong she had been to suggest it. She was used to dealing with soldiers, not children.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was just wishing I had a minute to run into my own house and change clothes before we drive all the way to Columbus.”

“Why?” He turned his attention away from the broken cornstalks and looked at her.

For the first time since he had galloped into her life, she gazed directly into his eyes—and nearly ran off the road.

His hair was a variegated flaxen color that would cost the earth to duplicate in a salon. It was an unflattering cut,
chopped off directly below the ears, but the color of it softened the starkness of the cut. His clean-shaven face was decidedly handsome, but it was his eyes, a dark shade of hazel flecked with gold, that were so arresting. She had never seen eyes like his before, and she felt as if they were looking right through her—and not liking what they saw.

She took in all of this in a glance before jerking the minivan back into her lane.

“I just thought—”

“Your clothing is not important,” he interrupted. “The children’s clothing is not important. The only thing that matters now is to get to little Daniel and let him know that he is not alone.”