Amish Romance BOXED Set: Amish Days: Sally's Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 7

  I stared at him, a surreal feeling descending on me like a fog.

  “Sally?” Dad asked. He took a step closer then stopped. “I’ll wait for you in the car. Pack what you can for now. We can send for the rest of your things later. We do need to get to Ohio to pick up Jack. Our plane tickets are purchased, and we don’t have a lot of time.”

  Still, I sat, no words coming, my mind numb.

  “Sally!” Dad’s voice jerked me back to life. “I’ll be in the car. Please pack your things.”

  And with that, he walked out.

  The minute the front door shut, I burst from my chair and rushed to the kitchen.

  “Is it true?” I asked, fear choking my voice.

  The devastated looks on their faces told me it was. All of it. Tears welled in Aunt Elizabeth’s stricken eyes, and she took my hand. “Ach, child, we will miss you so.”

  Aunt Ruth shook her head and came to me with her arms open. She pressed me close to her ample chest. “I’ll be praying, Sally,” she whispered in my ear. “The Lord God will bring you back to us.”

  Uncle Benjamin didn’t move. His shoulders sagged, and he stared at me with infinite sadness. I wiggled from Ruth’s embrace and walked to him.

  “Please, Uncle, can’t you do anything?” My voice caught, and I swallowed hard to keep from sobbing.

  His eyes grew moist, and his jaw tightened. He gave me a curt shake of his head, and I knew he was holding back his own tears.

  How could I leave them? And how could I leave Hope and Mary and Ann? And Abram and Josiah.

  And Zeke.

  How could I? They’d been my whole world for the last year. They’d saved me when grief from my mother’s death had plunged me into a deep, black hole. They’d given me safety and hope. They’d introduced me to a world of God and love and peace.

  How could I leave?

  “Can’t we fight this?” I asked, already knowing their answer. “Can’t you make him go away?”

  Elizabeth and Ruth gazed at the floor. Uncle Benjamin reached out and touched my shoulder.

  “He’s your father,” he said in a halting voice. “You must go with him.”

  “But why so fast? Can’t I at least finish the school year?” I didn’t care about school, but I would use any excuse.

  “He’s your father,” Uncle repeated.

  Tears spilled over my cheeks. “If I convince him to release me, will you take me back?”

  Aunt Elizabeth stepped close and put her arm around my shoulder. Physical affection from her was so unusual that my tears came harder.

  “You’re always welcome here, child. Always.” She patted my back.

  In danger of completely losing it, I broke away and tore up the stairs to the bedroom. Mary and Ann stood in the middle of the room, facing me.

  “Is he really your dad?” Ann cried. “Are you really going away?”

  I nodded, unable to speak for the tears.

  “Nee! Nee! I won’t let you! First Jack and now you?” Ann rushed forward and threw her arms around me.

  Mary peeled her sister from me and held her close. Mary’s eyes met mine over Ann’s white kapp. “I’m sorry, Sally. I wish it wasn’t so.”

  I nodded, wiping my face with the back of my hand. I pulled my suitcase from under the bed and laid it on top of the quilt spread. I opened it and began tossing my belongings inside.

  “My school books,” I said, sniffing. “Mary, can you take them back to Hollybrook High? Otherwise, your folks will be charged.”

  “Jah, of course.”

  “And Ann, do you want my embroidery things?”

  Ann lifted her head from Mary’s shoulder and looked at me through her tears. “Nee. They’re yours. You take them.”

  But I didn’t want them. They represented my time here, and if I embroidered anywhere else but Hollybrook, my heart would break.

  “I’m leaving them for you,” I said. I gathered the hoop and threads and the latest pillowcase I was working on and set all of it atop the dresser.

  “Do you have to go right now? Why can’t he wait? Give you a bit more time?” Mary asked. “This is too fast. And what about Hope? And Abram? Can’t you even say good-bye?”

  My lips quivered when I thought of leaving Hope. She’d been more like a sister to me than a cousin. In truth, she’d been more like a second mother. I knew her prayers had saved me more than once.

  “Dad says he can’t miss more work,” I choked out. “I don’t even know if that’s true. Maybe he made it all up. He’s waiting in the car—giving me five whole minutes to destroy my life.”

  Ann broke loose from Mary and clenched my arm. “Don’t go! Tell him no.”

  “Legally, he can take me.”

  “Mamm and Dat won’t let him!” Ann argued.

  I looked into her innocent, pleading eyes and felt ashamed. I couldn’t be the cause of her disappointment in Uncle Benjamin and Aunt Elizabeth. It wasn’t right.

  I took a huge breath. “It’s okay, Ann. It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

  “You’ll write me, won’t you? Jack never did. But you will, right?”

  “Jah, jah.” The Amish words flowed from my tongue. “Of course, I’ll write you. I’ll write all of you.”

  I snapped my suitcase closed and looked around the plain room. It was basically empty but for the dresser, and the beds, and the aprons and dresses hanging from pegs along the west wall. I stared at Mary’s extra kapp, nestled atop the deep green dress and apron she’d worn when we’d visited Jack in Ohio. I had an overwhelming urge to place her kapp on my head one last time. More than once I’d tried it on when no one was around, gazing at myself in the tiny mirror above the bathroom sink—imagining myself Amish.

  Mary must have noticed my staring for she walked over and slipped the kapp from its peg. She held it out to me.

  I gave her a questioning look.

  “Take it,” she said. She spoke in a firm almost harsh voice, which wasn’t unusual for Mary. But her gesture was so tender and understanding, I was surprised. I looked into her eyes and saw that beneath her tone, she was truly sorry to see me go.

  I took the stiff white kapp and pressed it to my chest. “Thank you, Mary.”

  She nodded and guided Ann from the room, closing the door behind them.

  I stood alone and gazed around as the pressure inside my heart rose. Gulping down a sob, I hoisted my suitcase from the bed. Before I went downstairs, I pulled out my cell and pressed Bryan’s number.

  “Sally? Is that you? Why are you calling?”

  We’d recently broken up—when I’d been forced to admit my heart belonged to Zeke, whether Zeke wanted it or not. But Bryan had been my best friend at Hollybrook High since my arrival, and I couldn’t, simply couldn’t, leave without telling him.

  “My dad’s here,” I whispered.

  Complete silence.

  “You there?” I asked, holding back the tears.

  “Did you say your dad?” His voice was stunned.

  “Yeah. He’s taking me to Washington State.”

  “What?”

  “We’re going to get Jack. Then he’s taking us back with him.”

  Bryan gave a shocked grunt. “How is this even possible? How did he know where you were?”

  “I don’t know. The Internet, I guess. What difference does it make?”

  “Wow.”

  “I know.” My face screwed up and I rubbed my forehead. A spasm of dread jolted my stomach. “I feel sick.”

  “I’m really sorry, Sally.” He coughed, and I heard a shuffling sound. “But why call me about it?”

  “Because you’re my friend…”

  “Look.” I heard the strain in his voice. “I appreciate the call, but it’s over between us. You made sure of that.”

  I sank to the edge of the bed and bent slightly when a sharp pain grabbed my stomach.

  Neither of us spoke for a long minute. Then I heard him sigh.

  “I wish it could be different. Sally. Everythi
ng. Including you having to leave. But it isn’t. It just isn’t.” Another sigh, muffled, like he’d put the phone to his chest. Then he was back. “Look, I have to go, okay? I’m sorry. Have a good trip—as good as it can be.”

  And I was dismissed.

  I held the phone away from my face and stared at it. A photo of Bryan’s smiling face stared at me from the corner of the screen. But he was right. I’d messed us up for good. I punched End Call and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

  I inhaled, grabbed my suitcase, ignored the ache roaring through me, and went downstairs.

  ****

  I sat in the passenger seat of the sedan with my face pressed against the window. Tears blinded me as we pulled away from the house. I had lied to Dad, giving him the wrong directions to reach the highway so we could drive by the Zook’s farm. I wanted one last glance of the place where Zeke lived. I prayed for a glimpse of him, but no one was about when we passed.

  Zeke would question where I was when the next preaching Sunday rolled around. Maybe he’d ask Mary or Ann. They’d fill him in.

  Will you be sorry, Zeke? Will you miss me?

  I could make a call to the phone shanty nearest his house. Someone might be passing and hear the phone ring. They could fetch Zeke for me, and I could tell him I was leaving.

  Stupid idea. Phones weren’t to be used for personal communication—just business or emergencies. I doubted anyone in the Amish community would consider my leaving an emergency. Truth be told, no one would be surprised I was leaving since no one thought I belonged anyway.

  Except Hope. She knew I was considering joining the church. She knew the hunger in my heart for God. She knew how I wanted to know more, how I wanted to take instruction.

  What she didn’t know was the yearning in my heart for Zeke.

  “You want something to eat?” Dad asked.

  I shook my head.

  “You missed dinner, though, right?”

  “Dinner’s at noon. You mean supper.” Why did I think it important to set him straight? What difference did it make?

  “Sorry. I stand corrected. You want supper then?”

  “No.” I turned to him. “Does Jack know you’re coming? Do the Rankins know you’re kidnapping Jack, too?”

  Dad flinched. “I’m not kidnapping either of you.” He took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry you feel that way. I’d hoped we could get along. We used to, you know.”

  “A hundred years ago.”

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Please, Sally. Give me a chance.”

  His expression was so pathetic, some part of me felt sorry for him. But he didn’t have to know that.

  “I have no choice but to give you a chance.” I stuck out my chin. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  He raised his eyebrows and glanced over at me. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

  “Jack and I will give you three months. If we want to come back here after that, you’ll let us.”

  “Now wait a minute,” he said. “I’m your dad. I’m not agreeing to that.”

  “I’m going to be eighteen on my next birthday. I can do whatever I want then anyway.”

  “But you still won’t have finished high school. How about you stay with me till you graduate?”

  I shook my head. “Three months.”

  “No,” he countered. “Till you’re eighteen.”

  “And if I run, what will you do?”

  Dad’s knuckles turned white. Maybe he’d snap the steering wheel in half.

  “Jack’s a runner, you know,” I reminded him.

  “He won’t run from me. I’ll make sure.” Dad took a huge breath. “Everything’s going to work out great. You’ll see. Jack will be happy. You’ll be happy.”

  I pressed my face against the glass again and watched the fields streak by. Could I be happy? Without my Amish family? Without Zeke?

  I doubted it very much. I doubted it down to my soul.

  Two

  Jack’s mouth hung open the entire time Dad talked with Pastor and Mrs. Rankin. I watched his eyes grow darker with every passing minute. When Dad showed Pastor some official documents, Jack sank to the couch like a rag doll. I hurried over and sat beside him.

  “It’s okay, Jack,” I whispered, even though I knew no such thing.

  He gave me a frantic look.

  “Seriously. It’ll be okay.”

  I helped him pack his stuff, which wasn’t much. When we came back to the living room, all three adults jumped up. Dad stepped over to grab Jack’s suitcase from my hand. Pastor and Mrs. Rankin enveloped Jack in a hug. Jack stood lifeless, not even returning their hug.

  I recognized the look on Jack’s face; it was the same look he’d worn every day for weeks after Mom was killed. I didn’t know how to help him then, and I didn’t know how to help him now.

  “Come on, Jack,” I said quietly as I pulled him from the Rankin’s embrace. “Let’s get in the car.”

  We huddled together in the backseat while Dad drove toward the Cincinnati airport. As Dad had told me, our tickets had already been purchased and the timing of the flight to Seattle was quick.

  On the plane, Jack fell asleep, and I was glad for him. But for me, sleep wouldn’t come. I faked it, though, because I was in no mood to keep up any kind of conversation with Dad, who didn’t sleep either. Every time I sneaked a glance at him, he sat glassy-eyed, staring at the seat back in front of him.

  Dad rented a car in Seattle and we drove to Marton, Washington. We turned the car into a rental place there, and they shuttled us to Dad’s house on Oak Street. Jack and I climbed out of the backseat and stood on the thick front lawn. The house was a one-story and looked weather-worn. The green paint was faded, but Dad had put effort into the flower beds. Tidy rows of azalea bushes and bunches of marigolds grew among fresh mulch.

  But I’d been living on a farm. The houses in Marton were so close, they practically sat in each other’s pockets. Tight moss grew through the cracks in the sidewalk. The sky was grey and heavy with rain. Dad balanced all our bags and stood on the front porch fumbling for his key. I had to pull Jack with me toward the house as his legs didn’t seem to working on their own.

  Dad got the front door open and pushed through, dropping our bags in the entryway. “Come on in, kids. Welcome home.” His voice rang with false cheer.

  Again, pity for him flashed through me. He was trying, I’d give him that.

  My room was closest to the living room. Jack’s was right beside mine, and Dad’s was across the hall next to the bathroom. Dad had furnished our rooms with a single bed, a dresser, and a desk. I noted the ceiling vents and the central light and the fan. I had become accustomed to none of those things, and they all looked strangely out of place. The dark skies outside filled my room with shadows, but I didn’t turn on the light—which I knew was stupid, but it made me feel better somehow. As if I was still connected to Hollybrook.

  “We’ll get both of you registered for school on Thursday. I thought you could use the first day to acclimate yourselves a bit.”

  “Wow. A whole day?” I asked, then bit my lip.

  Being unpleasant wasn’t going to get me back to Hollybrook any sooner.

  “Can I go to the store?” I asked.

  Dad’s face sparked with interest and relief. “Sure. Of course. What do you need?”

  “I thought I could buy a tablet and envelopes.”

  His look of relief faded. “You want to write to your Amish friends.”

  “Yes. Is that all right?”

  “Of course, it’s all right. We’ll pick up some stamps, too.”

  I relaxed, grateful that he’d agreed without an argument.

  Jack emerged from his room and stood in the hallway looking at us. “You’ll pay for my phone, right? I get to keep it, right?”

  Dad’s sigh sounded more like a moan. “Listen, you two. I’m going to do everything I can to make this comfortable for you. Of course, you can keep your phone, Jack. I’ve got Wi-Fi,
too. And if you need a computer for school, I can provide one.”

  He stepped to Jack, resting his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Whatever you need, just holler. Okay?”

  Jack nodded and disappeared back into his room.

  “How about you, Sally? You need anything else?”

  I shrugged. “I just need to write some letters.”

  “Fine. We can go right away.”

  ****

  Two hours later, I sat on my new bed and began my first letter to Hope.

  Dear Hope,

  I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to say good-bye. I’m sure you know by now that Dad came and took both Jack and me to Washington State. He basically showed up out of nowhere.

  I told Dad I’d give him three months. He wouldn’t agree. But I’m going to do everything I can to come back.

  I can still be your mother’s helper, can’t I? When your boppli comes? Please don’t ask anyone else.

  It feels funny to me now to be in a regular house. I miss the farm already. Never thought you’d hear me say that, did you? Remember when I first arrived and I got so upset about my huge gardening blisters? Ha! I’d give anything to have those days back.

  Please write to me. Tell me how everyone is.

  Your cousin,

  Sally

  I stamped the letter and put it in the mailbox. I calculated that it would take two or three days to get to Indiana. It made me feel better knowing Hope would be reading my words soon.

  I went back to my bedroom and picked up the tablet again. I tried four times to begin a letter to Zeke, but before I got even halfway down the page, I ripped up each one of them. Everything in me wanted to write him, but perhaps it would be better if I waited until I got some news from Hollybrook. Hopefully, someone would mention that Zeke had asked after me, giving me a reason to write.

  I reclined on the light purple bedspread Dad had bought for me. It was soft and the swirled pattern on it was kind of cool, but it wasn’t a quilt, and I’d learned that nothing was more comforting than an Amish quilt stretched across a bed. I blinked back sudden tears and got up again, going to my desk to take my new Bible from the top drawer. I’d recently bought it at the Christian store in Hollybrook and had been reading a few verses every day for the last month.