Annie's Truth (Touch of Grace) (23 page)

“It’s hard to believe.” Rudy’s sudden appearance made Annie start and turn slowly to face him.

She hadn’t realized how absorbed she was in the story until she heard his voice. “Doesn’t seem real.” Her voice strained under the stress and came out more like a whisper.

“Why?” was the only word that would squeak out, but as soon as she said it, she realized there couldn’t be any reason that would make a difference.

“He went to the school; let the boys go, but kept the girls. Within the hour all ten were shot, along with the gunman.”

“I know what happened.
Why
would this happen—to them?” She stared at the screen, watching the women with white prayer kapps and capes with black dresses as they cried into their handkerchiefs. The men gathered around with worn faces, embracing the women and holding their children. It all looked too familiar, too close to home, and she was so far from
her
home.

Annie felt Rudy’s arm wrap around her, and she tightened. Engulfed in the story, she ignored his touch and took a step closer to the television, then randomly pushed some buttons until the volume went up.

“You could have used this.” Rudy offered her the remote, but she brushed it away, not knowing how to use it any better than she did the buttons on the TV.

Different Amish people were asked about the incident. Many responded with a polite, “No, thank you.” Others spoke a few words, but those small numbers were profound and shocked the secular world. An anchorman held a microphone toward a daed of one of the boys who were in the school. “We are struggling but urging forgiveness of the killer and quietly accepting what comes our way as Gott’s will.” He nodded slightly and walked away before the man with the microphone had a chance to ask him anything further.

Rudy grunted. “In most other communities there would be an outcry for tighter gun laws, better security, and threats to the gunman’s family.”

Annie turned slowly to him. She never would have guessed that those thoughts would come about after something like this. But Rudy, after being on the other side for all this time, would instantly think of those responses.

A mother of one of the victims spoke next when the reporter asked how she felt about the killer. “Judgment is in Gott’s hands. ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’” The woman’s voice cracked as she quoted the scripture. “We are looking inward, relying on our faith; we know our children are in heaven and that we will be with them again.”

The pride she’d always felt for her people shone through as she heard these words of faith from a group of people she admired. Jah, she had needed to do this, to come and find the person who gave her life, and in doing so, she now knew more than ever where she belonged.

Shame struck her as she realized how sad it was that such a horrible event was what finally made her realize where her heart was.

Rudy shook his head. “It would be hard to do.”

She came out of her thoughts and turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a lot harder for me than it seems to be for them.” He looked at her with a mix of anger and disappointment in his eyes. “I understand, but not at that level.”

Annie felt as if she were saying those words right along with those Amish people and without a war going on in her soul as Rudy was experiencing. He understood and appreciated their ways just as much as she did, but he didn’t live in the community anymore, and that’s what Annie was instantly thankful for. The freedoms, conveniences, and luxuries she’d discovered in Harrisonburg were nothing in comparison to the depth of faith she’d just witnessed.

The newscaster continued in a stunned voice. “Not only do these people say they forgive this man, but they want his family to stay in the community.”

The phone rang and the front door opened at the same time. Rudy answered the phone as Elizabeth walked in. “I’ve just heard.” Tears formed at the edges of her eyes. “Of all people…,” she mumbled, and sat in a chair by the television. “The effect of this is great. In looking for anything good to come from this, my hope is that others see this way of thinking, that they might turn the other cheek if they ever experience loss like this.”

“It’s hard to find the positive, but I think you may have found it.” Annie smiled meekly, and Elizabeth wiped her eyes.

When Levi walked in the door, Elizabeth went to him, and they talked quietly before entering the kitchen. “I heard about the shootings on the radio on the way home. How old were these girls?”

“Six to thirteen. Five are in the hospital.” Rudy seemed to find the need to place the facts in order to process what was happening, the logical, engineer side of him kicking in to cover his emotions.

Levi shook his head but didn’t respond; he just kept watching the repeating scenes on the TV. Annie couldn’t and didn’t talk about it anymore. She quietly prayed long prayers that filled her up and gave her peace, not the kind of peace that soothes you to the bottom of your soul but a peace that Gott was in this and in control. And then Essie walked in.

Essie slowed as she took in the mood of the room. “What’s going on?” She pushed back her springy blonde curls and focused on the blaring television. She was silent for a long time while Annie and Elizabeth started dinner, not that anyone was hungry—it was just something for them to do, a soothing ritual. Rudy and Levi helped, just for a distraction. Everyone was silent except for questions concerning the meal.

Annie kept a constant praying vigil as she worked, asking for strength for the families, community, and the message they were giving.

Essie suddenly stood and stepped closer to the television. “That reporter is totally right. No one should be forgiven unless they show remorse for what they’ve done.”

“Essie,” Elizabeth said with disappointment.

“Oh, Mom. It’s true. It’s like you’re not admitting evil exists. And this just goes to show that it’s everywhere.” She pointed a finger at the TV, ready for battle. She had to have known that everyone in the room disagreed with her, but then again she was probably saying it to push buttons that were so vulnerable at this moment—especially Annie’s.

Essie looked around the room, just waiting for someone to say something against her. Elizabeth continued cutting carrots, Levi sighed and then turned away, and Annie ignored her. Rudy, however, stepped in.

“This isn’t the time to let out your frustrations. Not now, Essie.” He looked at her like he understood but didn’t agree. Maybe he’d been where she was and had come out of it. There seemed to be some silent communication going on that she didn’t understand.

Essie looked to Annie and stammered, “You’re
not
perfect.” She crossed her arms over her chest and walked away.

Rudy came to Annie’s side as if to protect her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Any feelings she’d formed with Rudy during her time here suddenly seemed wrong. No matter how innocent she had claimed them to be, right then she was ashamed. And the doubts she held regarding John vanished. He had always been the one, and her own selfish pride had kept her from thinking any differently. She’d had her time away to discover who she was and what she wanted to be, and now all she wanted was to leave.

Annie lay in bed that night in internal agony. She hadn’t said a word to Rudy and had asked that she not be disturbed. Although dinner had been brought up, it sat by the door in the hall, untouched.

The news of the shootings seemed unreal, too horrible to comprehend. Her mind replayed the mourning families who looked so similar to the people she knew and loved.
What if something happens to one of them while I’m gone?
The thought stung her heart as tears flooded her eyes.

Sleep would be the only way to have any peace. She willed herself to close her eyes, shutting out the words of the conversation she’d had with Monica, but she would not pray.

How could it have been any worse? Annie wished she’d never met her, never come to Harrisonburg. The self-pity exhausted her enough to finally find rest.

The voices in Annie’s head began as a murmur then grew into a lingering whisper. She woke in a startle, sat up in Rudy’s bed, and scanned the room.
No more of these thoughts.
But she became aware these were of a different kind. These woke her up at night and spoke with strength.
Go home, my child.

The comforting voice put her into a drowsy state, and it was in that moment she realized how much she missed John. Annie’s dreams took her to him.

John carried the metal holder full of bottles of milk for the calves as he and Annie made their way through the thick mud. The giant baby bottles held a powder mixed with water made for the newborns. The older calves were in a bigger corral but still close to one another, and they were covered with mud from the previous night’s rain. John set the holder of four bottles away from the group and handed one to Annie. He hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, so Annie almost looked him in the eye.

“I want Cowlick.” The skinny calf had wiry swirls all over his black and white coat.

“What if I want him?” John tightened his lips into a surly grin.

Annie ignored him and walked over to the coveted calf. “Beatcha to him.”

“Bet he’d like mine better.” John teased the calf with another full bottle sloshing around in front of him.

“Don’t, John. You’re getting him all fired up.” The calf sucked so hard they could hear huge gulps going down his throat. Cowlick pulled on the rope that held him to the hut.

John laughed and shook the bottle, urging spurts of milk to spray out onto Annie and the calf.

“John Yoder!” The minute she yelled his name, the calf broke free and scrambled over her to get to the second bottle in John’s hands. Cowlick’s back hooves kicked Annie forward into a heap of mud mixed with other stuff Annie didn’t want to think about.

John laughed at the scene until he heard Annie’s cry.

She sat up and looked at her clothes covered with brown, dripping sludge. She thought of how her mamm would react when she came home, and that’s when she huffed out a cry.

John came over and crouched down next to her. “Are you hurt?” His brown eyes glistened in the sunlight.

“No, just in trouble when Mamm sees this.” She gestured with her hands to her clothes.

“Come on, I’ll take care of you,” he said with a confident grin, and she knew he would. He always did.

He helped her up and brushed the big chunks of mud off her dress. “Take off your apron.”

She did and handed it to him.

“Follow me.” He took her by the hand. She had thought about how he always did that too.

They walked through the princess lace and flying insects to the pond. “Feel like a swim?” John took off his shoes, rolled up his pants to the knee, and stepped into the brisk water. It was a seasonable spring day, but the pond hadn’t been touched by the sun enough to have warmed up for a comfortable swim. Annie studied the water. Tall grasses edged its perimeter, where dragonflies chased each other. She took a deep breath and walked in until she was up to her waist.

John washed out her apron and shook it out for her. “Good as new,” he told her as he held it out for her to see. A few brown stains remained, and it was wrinkled and wet, but Annie would look much more presentable when she walked up to the kitchen door for lunch.

“It’s soaking wet, and so am I.” She brushed off most of the mud and stepped onto the bank of the pond. John helped her squeeze out the excess water bulging at the hem of her dress and took her hand again. He tugged on her to get her to run in the warm breeze until they reached the top of a nearby hill.

“Here’s a good spot.” He lay down in the swaying Kentucky bluegrass with tall weeds intermittently sprouting around. He patted next to him where he wanted her, and stuck a blade of grass in his mouth. “Better?”

She felt the moisture in her clothes start to warm in the midmorning sun and breathed in the fresh spring air. “Better. We should go fetch Cowlick.”