The Amish Heart of Ice Mountain (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mr. Ellis was only too happy to oblige Edward and the bishop with a ride to Coudersport. To Edward's chagrin, Bishop Umble seemed unconcerned about Sarah's predicament and even faintly amused. But Edward never felt a car went so slow on a drive.

Once outside the town, the bishop directed Mr. Ellis to go to a yellow building on a side street instead of the jail. Edward read the ornate sign in frustration:
DISTRICT ATTORNEY: DANIEL MILLER
.

“Do you really think we should be here, Bishop?” Edward asked, his nerves fraught.

“
Ach
, just wait here and give me a few minutes inside, and then we'll go to the jail and visit your, ah—errant frau.”

So Edward had to wait helplessly while Mr. Ellis made small talk until the bishop emerged with a tall
Englischer
in a brown suit who piled in the station wagon with apparent ease.

The bishop made introductions with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Folks, meet Dan Miller, my fishing buddy and a
gut
friend.”

Edward shook hands, still not sure what it all meant until Dan Miller explained. “Your wife will be cleared of all charges, Mr. King, because her alcohol is used for medicinal purposes and because we have no actual proof that she did anything with the moonshine but by her own insistence, which I think may have been for your—er—another's benefit. In any case, we'll go over and see that she's released right now.”

Edward felt a surge of intense relief. “Thank you, sir. I—I don't know what to say.”

Dan Miller grinned. “Say you'll show me a new fishing spot sometime.”

“Done.”

 

 

The kind sheriff seemed only too happy to lead the way to the holding cell where Edward saw his wife seated on a narrow bench along the wall between two other women. She looked rumpled but was talking earnestly and didn't even appear to hear him when he came in.

The sheriff rattled the keys in the lock. “Mrs. King. Your husband's here. You're free to go.”

Then she did look up and met Edward's eye. He saw her swallow, and all anger at her washed away at the weariness in her beautiful face.

Her cellmates seemed reluctant to have her leave, and it shouldn't have surprised him that she'd made friends with women so visibly different from her
. She found a way to connect, to meet them where they're at. . . .

“Take care, luv,” the one with the black eye called. “And thanks for the tip about the husband.”

“Yeah, and thanks for talkin' about my ma . . . I won't forget it,” the one in the short skirt said.

“Good-bye,” Sarah called, and Edward couldn't help but put an arm around her even while he still held a walking stick with the other.

“I'm sorry, Edward,” she whispered as they walked to the outer office and he bent and kissed her forehead in response.

There were some papers to sign and then the sheriff waved them off. Dan Miller shook hands all around and the bishop announced that he had some errands he had to take care of in town if Mr. Ellis didn't mind the wait.

“Not at all,” the
gut Englischer
replied. “I've got a bit of business, too. So I guess that leaves you two with an afternoon in town.” He gestured to Sarah and Edward.

Edward couldn't help but sense her renewed vitality; probably she hadn't gotten to go to town that often, and suddenly the day was looking better.

“We'll have a
gut
time,” he promised as they parted ways from their friends. Then he looked down at Sarah with a smile. “How about a nice lunch?”

 

 

Following an elegant little luncheon in a tearoom that delighted her, Sarah asked him if they might go to the library.

“I've never been there, and the little library at the mountain school is so small.”

“Surely, sweet,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss it. “Joe was always the big reader at our house. He sent away for books, then forced me to read them. I suppose I should thank him for it now.”

The library was a long, low squat white building with a mild-looking single lion outside standing guard, but the oaken door was heavy and sported a gold handle. Edward gave the door a push. “After you,” he said formally.

Sarah entered, her heart beating with excitement. The place smelled of books, both old and new, and filled her heart and mind with possibilities. She met the beady brown eyes of a woman at the main desk with the nameplate
MISS BETTY
and went forward hesitantly.

“Hello,” Sarah said softly. “I wondered if we could look around a bit. I've never been here before. It seems lovely.”

Miss Betty's stern face softened. “Of course, child. Would you want a library card?”

“Oh, no. We don't get down from the mountain enough, but just looking would be wonderful.”

Miss Betty nodded. “Well, our children's section is to the left and the adult's is to the right. You can find about anything you want from crafts to King Arthur, and if you have any questions, let me know.”

Sarah walked to the right down a slightly sloping ramp covered with a rich red carpet. There was a sitting area to the left with large black leather chairs and a carousel of magazines, and then there were inexpensive brown wooden tables where three teenage boys were working and talking quietly. The bulk of the library consisted of seven eight-foot-high blue shelves, packed front and back with books of all shapes and sizes. Hand-printed labels across the ends of the shelves told what was what in terms of subjects.

Sarah was immediately drawn to the first shelf in the crafting and sewing section. Her fingers traced the fine spines of the books with excitement, finally settling on a huge yellow book entitled
Costumes through the Centuries
to look at. She took the book down the aisle into a small alcove, which had a bright window with a standing podium and a green potted plant. Edward followed, his stick making light tapping sounds behind her. She'd opened the book and was eagerly scanning its contents when she felt Edward's hand on her shoulder and his warm breath in her ear.

“I think there's something stimulating about libraries, don't you, sweet? All this quiet and stillness?” He kissed her ear gently and she shivered, trying to concentrate on the book.

“Edward,” she warned.

“Just stand still, my little jailbird, and let me have the nape of your neck.”

She was about to obey, her senses heightened by her surroundings, when she suddenly felt him pull away.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Shh . . . listen.”

And then she heard a man's voice, obviously speaking on a cell phone in one of the next rows. She thought she recognized the tone, but she wasn't sure, so she listened intently.

“Yeah, these Amish are truly a bunch of rubes. I've got fifty thousand dollars in cash now and plan to get more. The only one smart enough to figure out what's going on was just arrested for running moonshine courtesy of my tip . . . yeah, I know. Don't worry. It'll all work out. All right. I've got to go . . . 'bye.”

Sarah realized it had been Jim Hanson speaking even as Edward turned and walked off. She followed, trying to stop him while being as quiet as possible, but he was fast, even with his stick. She caught up with him in the third aisle, where he had hold of Jim's coat.

“You worthless scum,” Edward gritted out.

“Hey,” Jim said nervously. “I don't know . . .”

“Edward,
sei se gut
,” Sarah whispered. “
Nee
violence.”

She realized she must have made sense to him because he finally let Jim go, but the other man took a step backward and lost his footing. His back hit the fourth shelf, which began to teeter ominously. Both she and Edward made a grab for some of the larger books, but it was too late. The fourth shelf fell into the fifth and into the sixth and so on, like a giant, resounding row of dominoes.

Sarah watched in mute horror as the four shelves slid into one another and then slammed against the cement wall on the far side of the library. Jim Hanson attempted to scramble away over the piles of books, but Edward tripped him with his walking stick, then caught him by the nape of the neck.

One of the high school kids stood up and was taking photos with his cell phone. “Dude! No way. My mom works at the newspaper. She can write
LIBRARY TRASHED BY AMISH.
”

Sarah met Miss Betty's outraged eyes and tried to think of something to say, but no words would come. Instead she bent and picked up the first book she came to:
Organizing Your Home....

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They were late getting home to their cabin on the mountain that evening. Jim Hanson had finally confessed, explaining that he had been fired from R & D shortly into the Ice Mountain job. He knew the company had decided to look elsewhere for gas, but he hadn't wanted to let go of the opportunity to take cash from the community. Dan Miller found that the money was pretty much all intact in a local bank and made plans with the bishop to return it to the people who'd invested as soon as possible.

Edward had brushed aside the bishop's encouraging words that he had helped to make things right and had concentrated instead on his wife's continued dismay about the library. They'd finally agreed to
kumme
down one day soon and help Miss Betty reshelve the books, possibly getting the community involved and doing a bit of a library makeover.

“So, it all worked out,” Edward said, his arms folded behind his head as he lay in bed, watching Sarah brush her hair.

“
Jah
, I suppose so.” Her voice was quiet.

“
Kumme
, sweet. You're still not fretting over the library, are you?”

“
Nee
. I was thinking about Carla and Shelley—the two women in the jail.”

“Oh.”

“They were so lonely and hurt. They had no men in their lives to talk with and no relationship with
Gott
.”

“When I was away on the rigs, I met many men who were the same—lonely, searching. It was hard to watch. But you did something for them, Sarah. I saw it when they called good-bye to you. You gave them a moment of kindness, of sweetness, and that is what we are called to do—sometimes it's all we can do.” He patted her side of the bed. “
Kumme
. Lie down and let me hold you.”

She smiled at him and turned down the light, then went into his arms. A few minutes later, he whispered the words he'd been longing to say to her all day. “You don't need to ever do it again, Sarah.”

“Do what?”

“Try to rescue me . . . take my place because you are afraid I might be hurt.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “But Edward, I love you and I believe, somewhere deep inside, that you have already been hurt enough in life.”

He kissed her tenderly. “I can manage, sweet. I promise.”

That
nacht
he had another panic attack and awoke, gasping for breath, his heart pounding, and the last vestiges of some haunting dream still with him. Sarah put her hand on his arm and he patted her fingers. “I'm all right,” he managed to say.

“Edward, you must face this thing inside that haunts you . . . whatever it is.”

She seemed almost to be able to read his thoughts because she turned up the lights and brought out the heavy book she'd shown him once before. “Here.
Grossmuder
May's journal. There's a very brief entry in it about your grandfather passing and you being found at the Bear's Cave.”

He took it and read swiftly.

“Maybe you should go talk with your
fater
about what happened that day. He may be able to help you and put an end to this anxiety,” she suggested.

“Jah.”
Edward frowned. “Though
Daed
has rarely spoken of his own
fater
.”

“Well, it's worth a try. I will pray for you.” She stretched up to kiss him, and he found comfort in her touch.

His ankle feeling better, Edward saddled Sunny and rode over to his
daed
's that morning. Priscilla and Hollie were still asleep and Joseph was already in the workshop. Edward's
fater
was enjoying an early morning cup of coffee alone.

“
Kumme
in,
sohn
. Why are you about so early?”

Edward sat down and accepted a cup of the steaming brew. “Well,
Daed
, I actually wanted to talk about your
daed
. I know I found him when he was dead and that I ended up at the Bear's Cave, but I don't remember anything in between. I was hoping you could help fill in the blanks.”

“Why do you want to think on it?”

“I don't know.... Ever since I stopped drinking, it's been on my mind. I've started having what Sarah calls panic attacks, so if you can help me, I'd sure appreciate it.”

“I'm sorry,
sohn
. I don't know any more about that day than you. . . . Truth is, I wasn't that close to my
fater
. Anyway,
Daed
was found dead in his cabin—we think by you first. Then you were lost for almost a day. We found you in the Bear's Cave in a kind of shock. . . .”

“Who found him after I did?”

“Solomon Kauffman.”

“Well, that's no help. The man's memory is gone.”

“I'm sorry,
sohn
.”

Edward was quiet for a few moments; then he had to say what was in his heart. “
Daed
, did you know it was
Grossdaudi
who gave me my first drink—when I was eight?”

His
fater
hung his head. “
Nee
. . . I didn't know that.”

“I don't mean to hurt you. I grew up responsible for doing my own drinking, but I started at first because it helped me get over missing
Mamm
so much.”

“
Ach
, I missed her, too, Edward, but I didn't know you hurt so much, and Mary was so young. I'm not making excuses . . .”

“I know,
Daed
. I just wanted to tell you . . . and,
Daed
, I love you.”

His
fater
's eyes filled with tears and the older man nodded. “And I love you,
sohn
. More than you know.”