Her Brother's Keeper (19 page)

She walked to the house and as she came inside, she heard her mother vomiting again in the bathroom. Hannah hurried to her, putting her own worries aside.

Eleven

I
saac hoped he didn't look as bored as he was. He'd gotten word to Hannah that his aenti had extended her stay, so it wouldn't be necessary for Hannah to visit his mother today. He couldn't constantly be with his mother, but for today, it gave him comfort to know she wasn't alone. He was trying to decide whether or not to talk to his aunt about his fears.

After he and Mary ate at the same park as before, she rambled on about her favorite books, none of which Isaac had heard of, a few movies she'd seen, and about space and something called a geomagnetic storm. Isaac didn't understand half of what she was talking about. It didn't matter, he was lost in thoughts about Hannah.

Then, out of the clear blue, she wanted to talk about Ethan, a man she hadn't even met. At least that was something he could comment on. But he wanted to be careful how much he said.

“Ya
, I knew Ethan. Not real
gut
, but I knew him.”

“Before I turned Amish, I had a hard life, but I still couldn't imagine taking my own life.”

Turned
Amish? Mary talked funny sometimes, but he knew why, so he tried to overlook it.

Mary blinked her eyes a few times, and Isaac thought she might start crying, which seemed odd. “Do you think people who commit suicide go to heaven?”

“I don't know.”

“If he was going to marry Hannah, he must have been a good man. Surely he is in heaven now.” Mary's voice cracked. She must have known someone who had taken his or her own life.

Isaac had plenty of thoughts about Ethan, but it wasn't his place to discuss any of them with Mary. “I would like to think he is.” Isaac avoided her eyes as guilt nipped at him. Once again, he wondered if he should have reached out to Ethan when he suspected that the man was going through a hard time. “A believer's sins are forgiven at the moment of salvation, so as a child of God, I think all of our sins are forgiven.”

“Technically, suicide is murder. Do murderers go to heaven?”

Mary seemed stuck on this subject, and she talked for a few more minutes before Isaac had a chance to say anything.

“ ‘For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should
not perish, but have everlasting life.' ” Isaac hoped that would end the conversation about Ethan.

“That's beautiful.”

Isaac sat there, waiting for her to say more. It almost sounded like she didn't realize it was Scripture.
“Ya,”
he said softly.

“Well, I'm going to choose to believe that good people, who love and know Jesus as God's Son, go to heaven.” Mary stared at Isaac, and he braced himself for more talk about death. “Have you ever known anyone who got shunned?”

Isaac just stared back at her for a few seconds, wondering how they'd gone from suicide to shunning. “Uh,
ya
. Of course.
Meidung.
”

“Why were they shunned?” Mary cupped her chin in her hand.

“For, uh . . . for marrying outside of the faith.”

She nodded. Isaac wished they could land on a subject of interest to both of them, but she'd already made clear her thoughts about farming, cooking, and most things their people loved. “What made you choose to be Amish?” he said.

“Well . . .”

Isaac listened with a heavy heart as Mary told him about her troubled childhood. He felt badly for her. But when she got to the part about moving in with her great-aunt and uncle, it was almost like she was making it up as she went along. There was an air of falseness in her
words, like when she talked about the washing machine flooding the garage and how she had to unplug it, which led to her getting shocked. Why were her Amish aunt and uncle using electricity?

Isaac's thoughts drifted to Hannah. Mary must have sensed that he was losing interest in the conversation because she stopped midsentence. But then Isaac heard a child screaming, and he realized that was what Mary was focused on.

They both looked toward the playground. The area was empty except for a mother who was spanking her toddler as the child wailed.

“She's spanking that boy too hard,” Mary said, not taking her eyes off of the woman, her voice steady.

Isaac recalled his fair share of spankings with his father's belt, some even left welts for days. “I wonder what he did.” Isaac stood up.

Mary glanced at Isaac, then back at the woman who continued to hit her child on the back of his legs and behind. “It doesn't matter what he did. He couldn't be older than three or four.” She took off in their direction, and Isaac reluctantly followed. This wasn't their business.

Mary slowed her pace as she got closer to the woman. The
Englisch
woman had stopped hitting the boy, but Isaac cringed when he saw the red welts on the boy's bare legs. Mary pulled a tissue out of her apron pocket and casually tossed it into a nearby trash bin, as if that had been her plan from the beginning. Then she turned
around and both she and Isaac headed back to the area where they were having their picnic. But the child began to wail again, and Mary did an about-face. She hurried to the woman, although Isaac held back a few steps.

“Ma'am, I don't want to get in your business, but I feel like you might be spanking that child too hard.” Mary spoke in a gentle voice as she pointed to the boy's bare legs. Isaac noticed the red welts below the child's short pants. But he was surprised that Mary was getting involved since this wasn't their way.

The large woman with dark eyes scowled and spat, “This is
my
child, and I'm disciplining him for being disobedient. And you're right . . . it's not your business.”

Mary took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said, “I understand that you are trying to teach him, but you're hitting him too hard.”

The boy was still crying and clung to his mother's leg as she placed her hand on his head. “You are scaring my son,” the woman said. “Go away, please.”

Isaac was familiar with how hard it was to walk away, to turn the other cheek. “Mary, let's go,” he said, gently tugging on her arm.

“Listen to your boyfriend, and get out of here.” She grabbed her son's arm, pulling him so hard that he fell down and started to cry again. “Shut up,” she said as she gave him another pop on the back of his legs. “See what you caused?”

Mary looked up at Isaac, her eyes filling with tears.
“I'm sorry.” She hurried to catch up to the woman, and before she reached her, she said in a loud voice, “He will remember this, you know. Your son. He will remember what you're doing to him.”

Isaac followed her, shaking his head, asking the Lord to forgive them both for what he feared might be coming. But when Mary swiped at a tear rolling down her cheek, Isaac suspected this might have more to do with her own childhood than anything else.

The woman pried her crying child from her leg and walked up to Mary, pointing a finger in her face. Opening her mouth to say something, the woman stopped, looked back at her son, then at Mary. The woman fisted both her hands, and Isaac was sure that she was about to punch Mary. He wouldn't let that happen. But suddenly, the woman dropped her hands to her sides and stared at Mary. Seconds later, the woman shoved Mary so hard that she tumbled backward, catching herself with her hands.

“Stupid Amish woman.”

Isaac stepped in between them, but before he or Mary could say anything, the woman walked back to where her child was standing. Isaac helped Mary up, but he had to grab her arm when she started to bolt after the woman.

“Nee
,
nee
, Mary. Let her go.” He kept his hand on her arm until the woman put her son in her car and they started out of the parking lot. “Your hands are bleeding,” he said, releasing his hold and noticing her bloody palms. She'd skid her hands across some gravel when she fell.

“She'll hit him again unless she gets some counseling.” Mary kept her eyes on the car until it was out of sight. “Or he'll get big enough to fight back.” Isaac used his handkerchief to gently dab at the nasty scrapes on Mary's hands. She cringed but didn't pull away.

Isaac wondered what Mary would have done if he hadn't held her back. “She's a cowardly woman. She knew you wouldn't fight back.” Isaac grinned. “At least she didn't think you would.” He took another look at Mary's hands after he'd cleared off the gravel that was stuck to them, then gave her his handkerchief. “We need to get you home so you can properly tend these wounds.”

Mary clasped the rag between her palms. He caught her wincing several times. They were halfway home before Mary spoke again.

“Isaac, I'm not going to be in Paradise much longer, so I need to speak freely about something.” She glanced at her hands and cringed again before she went on. “So, here goes. We both know that while some people might consider what we're doing as dating, I think we both realize that there is nothing romantic going on here.”

Isaac's pulse picked up. He'd never known anyone quite like Mary—someone so forthright with her feelings. He took off his hat and put it in his lap, then scratched behind his ear, wondering where she was going with this.

“You need to ask Hannah out. Anyone can see the way you two look at each other. She doesn't think she's
ready, but she is. And I'm going to tell her the same thing.” Mary raised an eyebrow as if she was waiting for Isaac to respond, but he had no idea what to say.

“But . . .” She held up a finger. “I need something from you, and I'm running out of time.” She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes. Isaac wondered if she was praying. “I want you to tell me about Ethan. I know you know something. Did his killing himself have anything to do with Edna Glick? If Hannah is going to move on, she needs to know what happened.”

Isaac realized he was holding his breath, but this was the last thing he ever predicted Mary would ask. She carefully reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a picture. She handed it to him, and once he'd studied the front, she turned it over in his hand.

“How did you get this photo?” He stared at the picture and reread the note on the back.

“It doesn't matter.”

Isaac thought about how long he'd kept the secret about what he saw. He'd planned to take it to his grave. But if Mary believed that knowing the truth would help Hannah be able to move forward, then maybe it was time to talk about it.

Hannah busied herself tending to chores that she normally dreaded, but she wanted to keep herself occupied
so she wouldn't think about Mary and Isaac on a blanket at the park. Her parents were enjoying a breezy Saturday afternoon napping, and Hannah had no idea where Jacob was. She ran the feather duster over the mantel for the second time, but eased her way to the window when she heard a buggy coming.

Sighing, she tried to force herself away, not to look when Mary and Isaac said their good-byes, but her feet were rooted to the floor. She waited, but there was no kiss before Mary stepped out of the buggy. Isaac walked behind her, and right before she got to the porch steps, she turned around and said something to him, then came up the steps. Hannah gasped when she saw Mary holding a bloody handkerchief between her palms.

Hannah rushed toward the door. “
Ach
, Mary! What happened to you?” she asked as the screen slammed behind Mary.

“I'll let Isaac tell you.” She nodded outside. “I need to get cleaned up.”

“Do you need help?” Hannah eyed Mary's hands as her cousin shuffled past her, shaking her head.

“No. I'm fine.”

Hannah walked out on the porch just as Isaac was heading back to his buggy, but he turned when the door shut.

“What in the world happened to Mary?” She walked toward him, holding her palms faceup. “Did she fall down?”