Her Brother's Keeper (20 page)

Isaac shook his head. “
Nee
, but an
Englisch
woman pushed her down.”

Hannah gasped. “
Nee!
What happened?”

When Isaac finished the story, he added, “Mary would have gone after the woman if I hadn't held on to her arm.”

“Was the woman really beating her child like that?”

“It wonders me if
beating
is the right word, but she was hitting him hard enough to leave marks.”

Hannah stared at Isaac, feeling like she was seeing him for the first time. She'd been so lost in her relationship with Ethan, then in her grief, she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed being around him.

She pulled her eyes from his. “I should go check on Mary.” But Hannah's feet were rooted to the ground, and as she dug her toes into the cool, moist grass, Isaac smiled. She smiled back at him, feeling like they were communicating without words. She wondered if their hearts were saying the same thing.

Charlotte lay back on the bed, thankful her hands had stopped bleeding, but wishing the throbbing would stop. She'd have to be so careful when washing her hands and doing things around the house. Not that she did all that much.

“Wow, Charlotte. I'm so sorry,” Ryan said after she told him what happened.

Charlotte sighed. “I can't believe she pushed me, but
it's probably a good thing Isaac kept me from going after her. She was considerably bigger than me.” Cringing, she looked down at her hands. The left one was worse than the right. “But maybe she'll think twice before she hits her kid again.”

“I bet your boyfriend was shocked, but I'm not surprised he kept you from going after the woman. The Amish are passive. They don't fight. Not even in self-defense.”

“You know he's not my boyfriend.”

“How much longer are you staying?”

“I'm not sure. But I was right about Isaac. He did know more about Ethan than he let on. When I told him that any information he had might help Hannah to move on with her life, he spilled it. Apparently, Ethan
did
cheat on Hannah. I don't know how frequently or for how long, but Isaac saw Ethan and Edna together when they thought no one was around. And get this. You'll never believe how he stumbled upon them.” She took a breath. “Isaac delivered a piece of furniture to a customer in Lancaster, about twenty minutes by car. He'd hired a driver and took the hutch in a van. After they'd delivered the furniture, the driver asked Isaac if he wanted to get lunch before they headed back. They stopped at a restaurant—coincidentally, it was called Isaac's Famous Grilled Sandwiches. Isaac had never heard of it. So, imagine his surprise when he and the driver were walking to their table and he spots Ethan and Edna holding hands across a table.”

“You're kidding.”

“Nope. And neither were dressed Amish. He said Ethan was wearing jeans and a T-shirt . . . and Edna had on a dress, but her hair was down, no prayer covering. And she was wearing makeup.” Charlotte grunted a little. “When they looked up and saw Isaac, they released each other's hands and avoided eye contact. Guess they thought their disguises in a place not frequented by the Amish might be safe.”

“Did Isaac confront them?” Charlotte could tell Ryan was hanging on her every word.

“He said he just kept walking, but a few minutes later, Ethan found him, asked to talk, then begged him not to tell anyone.”

“Wow.”

“I'm so disappointed in Ethan,” she said as her voice cracked.

Ryan was quiet for a while. “Well, we still don't really know what happened. Maybe it was a onetime thing. A secret lunch, a couple of stolen kisses. Maybe that was it.”

“I don't know.” She sniffled. “Isaac said Ethan tried to downplay it, but over the next few weeks, Ethan asked Isaac several times if he was going to tell Hannah.” She was quiet as she thought about how it all played out. “And the thing is, Isaac told Ethan repeatedly that he wouldn't tell anyone. But there is no mistaking the way Isaac and Hannah look at each other. He could have told her, broke them up, and maybe had a shot with her.” She took a
deep breath. “I don't know, though, since Isaac has spent so much time helping out his parents with the house and yard.” She couldn't control the tears anymore as she told him the rest. “Isaac said that he wasn't very close to Ethan, but he could tell that Ethan was depressed. He didn't know if it was because he loved Edna, didn't want to hurt Hannah, or what. Isaac was clearly harboring some guilt, feeling like maybe he could have helped Ethan. I tried to tell him Ethan was responsible for his own life, but it was so hard not to cry listening to these details. But I'm tired, Ryan. I'm tired of the lies. No matter what happened, nothing can bring Ethan back.”

“Sweetie, don't cry.”

Ryan's gentle voice just made Charlotte sob harder. “And I feel terrible for thinking Hannah might have been the guilty party. Ethan left her, for whatever the reason. And he left me.”

Charlotte thought about her empty apartment at home, then glanced at the ivy growing in a planter by the window. There was nothing growing in her apartment. No pets to feed. “I know I need to get home and back to work. And the sooner I get straight with these people, the better I will feel,” she said softly. “But the weather is so pretty here this time of year. And I feel like I'm a part of a real family. It's going to be hard to say bye to them all, especially since I don't know if they will want anything to do with me once they know the truth.”

“Don't stay gone too long. I might start missing you.”

Charlotte heard the flirtiness in his voice, so she dabbed at her eyes, sniffled again, then threw it back at him. “I think you already miss me.”

“I was starting to, until you latched on to that Amish boyfriend.”

Charlotte couldn't help but smile. “Yeah, well . . . whatever.” She glanced at her bandages. “I don't think my scraped up hands are going to get me out of church service tomorrow.”

“I thought you'd started to like going to their church services.”

“I also like sleeping in on Sundays.” Charlotte thought for a few moments. “Actually, I like the feeling I get when I'm there, the fellowship, but I don't understand most of it. During the devotions, the family speaks English so I can understand, but the bishop and deacons don't during the worship service. And it's always awkward when someone new comes up to talk to me in Dutch, and then I have to explain, again, about how I wasn't raised Amish. I've told the same lie so many times that I've started to believe it myself.”

She reached for the box of tissues on her nightstand.
Empty
. She tossed the box on the bed and walked with her arms bent at her sides and cell phone held to her ear with her shoulder, carefully turning the knob on her bedroom door. “Hey, I better let you go. I need to go down the hall to get some more tissues from the bathroom closet. I'll let you know when I decide to come home.”

Charlotte pulled the door open, then gasped. Jacob was standing there.

She swallowed hard as her phone fell from her shoulder and hit the wood floor. “Jacob. How long have you been standing there?”

Twelve

C
harlotte searched Jacob's expression, but she couldn't tell if he was on to her.

“I was just coming to see if you were okay. Hannah just told us all what happened.” He scrunched up his face as he leaned down and looked at her hands. “Ouch. That doesn't look
gut
.
Mamm
is mixing up some of her goat-milk stuff, her cure-all for everything. She'll be up here in a few minutes.”

Charlotte had momentarily forgotten about her hands. “Um . . . have you been standing out here long?” She tried to ask the question casually, but when Jacob grinned, her heart skipped a beat.

“Long enough,” he said, winking, before he walked off.

Charlotte followed him, shuffling down the hall with her arms bent at her side. “Jacob,” she said in a loud whisper. “What does that mean?”

He faced her and rubbed his chin. “What do you think it means?”

They both turned toward the stairs when they heard footsteps.

“Let's have a look at those hands.” Lena had a bowl of white goop in one hand and some bandages in the other, along with a washrag draped over her arm. She frowned as she took inspection. “Are you in pain?”

“A little, but I'm okay, really.” Charlotte tried to smile.

Lena gently latched on to her arm. “Come, come. Let's get you on the mend.”

Charlotte glanced at Jacob, but he had already turned to go to his bedroom.

Lena motioned for Charlotte to sit down on the bed, then Lena sat down beside her. “Hannah said you got upset with a woman for hitting her child.” She dipped the washrag into the bowl, pulling back a gob of thick white stuff. Charlotte flinched as Lena dabbed it on her palms.

“She was beating her child.”

Lena finished up quietly, and when she was done, she pushed back a few strands of Charlotte's hair and gently kissed her on the forehead. “It's not our way, Mary, to involve ourselves in other people's business, especially the
Englisch
.” She paused, gazing into Charlotte's eyes. “I know it's hard to see a child being over-disciplined though.”

Charlotte was tempted to show her the scar on the back of her left thigh and the smaller one on her back. Neither
were disfiguring, just a reminder of one of the many beatings she'd gotten from her mother, her foster-mother, her father . . . and the list went on. For years, she just assumed she was a bad girl, unlovable. It wasn't until she got older that she realized that not every parent hits.

“Mary, it is not for you to worry about, though.” Lena must have seen that she missed a spot since she dipped the rag in the mush again. Mush that smelled a little like garlic, but mixed with something she couldn't quite identify. “That woman and her child are children of God, and He will be the one to call the woman to judgment. It's not for us to do that.”

“I know,” Charlotte said, blinking back tears.

“Ach
, sweet girl.” Lena smiled. “Do you remember when you arrived and I asked you what your special gift was?”

Charlotte nodded.

She chuckled. “I couldn't figure out what yours was. You don't like to cook, garden, or sew.” She pointed a finger at Charlotte. “But I knew your gift would reveal itself, and today it did.” She smiled broader, even though Charlotte couldn't imagine what Lena was about to say.

“You are a defender of goodness. A protector, someone who will stand up for justice.”

Charlotte couldn't look at Lena.

“But . . .” Lena gently cupped Charlotte's chin. “We have reasons for staying apart from the
Englisch
. We are unequally yoked with them. And I don't say that in judgment of the
Englisch
. Many of those in the outside world
are strong Christians, as committed to their faith as we are. But the difference between them and us is that when we meet another Amish person, we
know
that person is of the same beliefs, there's no questioning it. But with the
Englisch
. . . we can't know what their value system is at first glance.” Lena paused, the rag in her hand, as she looked at Charlotte. “We live by the rules of the
Ordnung
, and there's no need for us to question each other. I would think that it would be easy for you to make that comparison since you have lived in both worlds. And I also caution you against righteous anger. Even though Jesus got angry, and there are many instances of anger throughout the Bible, it is hard for us to discern between being righteously angered and being tempted by human impulse.”

“She pushed me down,” Charlotte said softly, knowing she sounded like a child.

Lena dropped her hand and smiled. “And if you were five years old, we would be having this same conversation. If you had not approached the woman—had remained separated—this would not have happened. But since it did happen, the right thing to do would have been to walk away. I'm sure your Amish family instilled these beliefs in you from the time you chose to be baptized into the faith. It sounds like Isaac had to keep you from making the situation even worse.”