Danger in Amish Country: Fall from GraceDangerous HomecomingReturn to Willow Trace (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 3

  “Well, we must hope we’ll realize more than expected,” she said, not eager to get into another disagreement with the man.

  A grunt was his only answer. He gestured to the Englischer who stood nearby. “Mr. Foster has come to me with a proposition.”

  Sara nodded, answering Mr. Foster’s smile with one of her own and thinking she detected a bit of sympathy in his eyes.

  “Mitch, please. We don’t need to be formal, and I know Teacher Sara.” Foster was lean and graying, with a tanned face and a ready smile. The owner of the local hardware and sporting-goods store, he was well-known for sponsoring all the local sports teams. Not that the Amish participated in those, but a person could hardly not know about it. People in a small community talked, that was certain sure.

  “See, it’s this way, Teacher Sara. I heard about the trouble you folks had with finding that body and all.”

  Silas’s look turned more disapproving, if possible. “It’s not proper, an Amish teacher going about finding bodies.”

  She could hardly expect him to approve, but Sara wasn’t sure what she could have done about it. A little edge of apprehension pricked her. Silas might well seize any excuse to replace her with someone younger and more malleable.

  “I’m sorry that what happened brought attention to the school,” she said.

  “Nonsense,” Foster said bracingly. “You couldn’t help what happened. You could hardly leave the poor fellow lying there. Anyway, it made me think about your school.”

  She nodded, not sure where this was going.

  “So the long and short of it is that I noticed the playground equipment is getting a bit dilapidated. I figured I’d like to donate the materials you need for an overhaul. Maybe add a few new pieces, as well.”

  Sara managed to restrain herself from jumping up and down in excitement. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Foster.” She slid a look at Silas, expecting a negative reaction, and realized he was actually nodding.

  “Generous,” Silas echoed. “Though I’m not sure the kinner need all these newfangled things to play with when they should be attending to their studies.”

  Silas’s philosophy was always that what had been good enough for him was good enough for everyone.

  “Scholars seem to do better with their studies when they’re able to run about and play in the middle of the day,” she said. Please, she prayed silently.

  “Sure thing,” Foster said. “Everyone knows that’s true. They’ve got to run off some of their energy. So what do you say?”

  Silas gave a short nod, as if to do more would be unbecoming. “Well, if you insist, we accept. We can set up a work frolic to get the repairs done. I think Teacher Sara already has a list of what’s needed, ain’t so?”

  Sara nodded, unable to keep a smile from her face. “Ya, I do.” A list she’d presented to the school board at least twice with no action. “I’ll get it for you.”

  “Fine, fine.” Foster took a quick look around. “I do need to get going, but I can wait a few minutes. Or you can have your daed drop it off at the store.”

  “I’ll get it right away.” She spun and headed for the schoolhouse, excitement bubbling, hardly able to believe Silas had agreed to this. Maybe the thought of getting something free had outweighed his reluctance. She’d best get the list to Mr. Foster before Silas changed his mind.

  She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, mind intent on the list. She took one step toward her desk and stopped, her heart giving an uncomfortable thump.

  Someone stood at her desk. Not just someone—a man, Englisch, young. He wore jeans and a tight black T-shirt, and he was as out of place in an Amish schoolroom as a zebra in a henhouse.

  “What are you doing here?” Nervousness lent an edge to her voice.

  “Just wanted to see what the school looked like. Nothing wrong with that, is there?” His bold eyes swept over her, studying her body in a way that made her want to hold something up to shield herself from his gaze.

  Sara pushed down a momentary panic. There were people, plenty of them, just a shout away. Nothing could happen to her in her own schoolroom with half the residents of Beaver Creek nearby.

  “The school is closed to visitors today.” She made her voice firm. “I’ll have to ask you to step outside.”

  He sauntered toward her, his gaze never shifting. “Well, now, that’s not very friendly, is it?”

  “The school is closed,” she repeated. She took a step back and bumped into a desk. Was it time to call out now, before he got any closer? She edged her way around the desk, feeling behind her for the door.

  He smiled, as if he knew she was afraid and enjoyed it. “I know lots of ways to get friendly with a pretty girl like you.” He moved to within arm’s reach, and only the conviction that it would be a mistake to turn her back on him kept her from running.

  “Get out of my schoolroom.” She would not panic. If she made a scene... Her mind shuddered away from the thought. It would be another black mark against her in Silas’s book—that was certain sure.

  “Your schoolroom? So I guess that makes you the teacher, huh? Bet I could teach you some things.”

  He reached toward her, and panic slipped her control. She drew in a breath to scream.

  FOUR

  Caleb’s first censorious thought at finding Teacher Sara alone in the school with an Englischer vanished when he saw the fear in her face. “What is going on?” He reached them in a few long strides, impelled by an alarming surge of protectiveness.

  “Sara.” He moved between them, forcing the other man to take a step back. He focused on Sara’s strained face. “Was ist letz?”

  Sara took a breath, some of the color coming back into her face. “I found this man in the schoolroom. He doesn’t want to leave.”

  And he had frightened her. Caleb could read between the lines. Had he threatened her?

  He fixed his glare on the man—hardly more than a teenager, but hardly an innocent. The way he’d been looking at Sara gave Caleb an urge to douse his head in the nearest water pail.

  “Go. Now.” He didn’t waste words.

  The stranger took another step back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A flicker of bravado showed in his expression.

  “I heard tell the Amish don’t hit back. So how you gonna make me?”

  “That’s true enough.” And he’d never had such a longing to break that taboo. “But there are plenty of Englisch outside who’d be glad to help us out.”

  He didn’t bother to repeat his command. He stared until the man’s gaze fell.

  “Just having a little fun.” His voice had taken on a whine. “That’s all.” He swaggered out the door, the effect ruined by the speed at which he disappeared.

  Caleb turned to Sara, overcome with the need to comfort her. “Are you all right? You’re safe now. He’s gone.”

  She shook her head, turning toward him in an instinctive gesture, so that it seemed the most natural thing in the world to put his arm around her.

  “It’s all right,” he said softly, just as he would soothe Rachel. “Nothing can hurt you now.”

  Sara gave a watery chuckle. “Ach, I must be ferhoodled to let the likes of that one upset me so.” She drew back, as if aware of his arm around her.

  He squeezed her arm in reassurance and let his hand fall, taking a step away. “It was sensible to be afraid, finding a stranger in here. Did he threaten you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t suppose he meant any harm. He was just showing off, most likely.”

  Caleb’s thoughts were busy with the man’s reasons for being in the schoolroom, of all places. “Did you know him?”

  Sara shook her head. “You don’t think I’d be friends with someone like that, do you?”

  “I’m glad to see your spirit is back.” Although he couldn’t help but think Sara might be safer with a little less of that quality.

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “The kinner. Where are they? You didn’t leave them
on their own?”

  “The girls are fine. Your brother and his wife took them to get funnel cakes. That’s what I was coming to tell you.” He hesitated. “Are you going to tell Chief O’Brian about what happened here?”

  “I didn’t think of that.” The color came up in her cheeks again. “He said to tell him about anyone hanging around the school. I suppose I must.”

  He thought he understood her embarrassment. The Englischer had said something offensive to her—something she probably didn’t want to repeat.

  “Ya, I think you should talk to him,” he said firmly.

  Sara looked at him with a challenge in her green eyes. “That’s a turnaround for you, isn’t it?”

  He stiffened. “It’s an entirely different thing. My Rachel is a child, already having a difficult enough time of it. You’re a grown woman.” A fact of which he was uncomfortably aware.

  Sara didn’t speak, but he could see the stubborn disagreement in her face. Well, maybe that was a good thing. It would encourage him to keep his guard up with her.

  *

  By the time school started on Monday morning, Sara still hadn’t talked to Chief O’Brian about her unwelcome visitor. Well, it wasn’t her doing, was it? He’d left the auction by the time she went in search of him, and she could hardly seek out the police on the Sabbath. She’d have to do it, and soon, but at the moment, she needed to deal with all the chatter going on in her schoolroom.

  She stood, and the buzzing stopped when she looked at her scholars, but she saw suppressed excitement on several faces. Well, maybe some serious schoolwork would get their thoughts off gossip, which she didn’t doubt had been flying around the valley since Friday.

  “We’ll begin with reading for first and second graders,” she announced, and the little ones obediently began pulling their desks into a circle. “Seventh and eighth graders will work on their written reports.”

  There were some sighs from the older boys, who’d rather do almost anything than write a report.

  She went on to assign each of the other grades to work on arithmetic or practice spelling words, and then she sat down with the small group of the youngest scholars. The room was quiet except for the scratching of pencils and the murmur of spelling words as the third graders quizzed one another.

  Concentrating on the eager little ones was a good antidote for her worries. She loved seeing their faces light up when they sounded out a new word or read a complete sentence in Englisch.

  A teacher’s sixth sense presently told Sara that something was wrong with the background noises. She looked toward the back of the room to discover that Lily was not only not working on her report, she was out of her chair and hanging over Johnny Stultzfus’s desk, whispering away.

  “Lily!” Sara’s sharp tone had every pair of eyes in the room focused on her. “You will take your seat immediately, and you will also write one hundred times I will not chatter in class. Is that understood?”

  Lily, her pretty face set in a pout, nodded.

  She was justified, Sara told herself, but she hated to see all of her students looking at her with such dismay.

  Relenting, she went to lean against her desk. “All right. Tell me what is so fascinating to all of you that you can’t concentrate on your work.”

  “Please, Aunt Sara.” Becky remembered to raise her hand, but she forgot, as always, that she was supposed to call her aunt Teacher Sara in the classroom. “Everyone is talking and wondering about the man who fell off the cliff.”

  “Did he really jump?” Johnny’s question exploded out of him before she could react to Becky. “I heard he had a parachute.”

  “Not a parachute, dummy.” Adam Weaver, seated next to him, gave him a light punch on the arm. “Nobody could use a parachute off a cliff.”

  “Adam, keep your hands to yourself,” Sara said sharply.

  “I heard—” someone else said, and a babble of voices spoke, all telling a different, wilder story.

  Sara sighed. If anyone had hoped the kinner wouldn’t learn about the body at the bottom of the cliff, they’d be disappointed. The only sensible thing was to tell them the truth so they’d stop making up stories.

  “Enough.” She held up her hand, and the room fell quiet. “Here is exactly what happened. On Friday, after school, I was showing Rachel’s daed the cliff, where it looks like the profile of an old man.”

  Several heads nodded. They probably all knew that much.

  “We saw someone lying at the bottom, and we went to see if he was hurt. Unfortunately...” She hesitated, but they already knew. “Unfortunately the man had passed from his injuries.”

  “Was there a lot of blood, Teacher?” Adam said with a certain amount of relish.

  “No, there was not.” She said it firmly and held his gaze for a moment, mindful of what he might likely repeat to his father. Some of the parents were bound to dislike this departure from the curriculum. Including, most likely, Caleb.

  “The poor man was beyond help, so I went to Mr. Brown’s farm and asked them to call the police. The emergency squad came and took the man away. And that’s all that happened. Are there any questions?”

  There were, of course, but she was able to answer them honestly without giving any gory details. Finally her scholars seemed to run out of queries.

  “Now you know the facts,” Sara said. “So you don’t need to make up any stories about it.” She paused. “Do any of you have anything else to say about it?”

  She let her gaze rest for a moment on Rachel. It seemed she was about to speak. But the moment passed, and Rachel joined the rest of the class in a chorus of “No, Teacher Sara.”

  Sara felt oddly dissatisfied. There were too many questions as yet unanswered. Maybe they never would be. But as her scholars got back to work at last, she realized that the cheerful presence of the children was chasing any remaining shadows from her thoughts as well as her schoolroom.

  It was raining when school ended, a steady gray drizzle that made Sara disinclined to rush out into it. She saw Caleb standing at the edge of the playground, waiting for his daughter.

  Why hadn’t he come to the door for her? She hadn’t spoken to him since Saturday, although of course she’d seen him at worship yesterday. Maybe Caleb thought they’d gotten too close during those moments in the schoolroom on Saturday. Now he was eager to put some distance between them.

  Sara settled down to grade papers, trying to dismiss the thoughts, but Caleb’s frowning face kept intruding. She sighed. Caleb was so determined that Rachel should forget the past, but obviously he couldn’t do that himself. And she suspected he was wrong in his approach to his daughter’s grief, although she didn’t think he’d want to hear it from her.

  Forcing the troubling thoughts away, she set to work and had the correcting done in an hour. She glanced at the windows, startled at how dark it had become because of the thick clouds and the steady rain. She’d better head for home before Daed came looking for her.

  Putting on her outer clothes, she glanced back at the schoolroom before locking the door. With the battery lamp turned off, the familiar room looked different. But not scary. Of course not. She locked up and started down the path toward home.

  At least the rain was stopping now, but water still dripped from the trees, and wet branches sagged, waiting for her to walk into them. She moved quickly, hugging her jacket around her. It was only sensible to get to the warmth and light of home as soon as possible.

  The path wound along the creek, where the water rushed over the stones, fed by the rain. She resolutely did not look toward the opposite side, not that she could have seen the cliff from here anyway. Still, if—

  Her skin prickled. A sound, some alien noise, had disturbed her. She was as familiar with the usual sounds along the path as she was the tone of her schoolroom. She slowed, listening, trying to identify the sound. It was the faintest murmur, but it almost sounded like footsteps on the path behind her.

  Sara whirled, staring, but no one wa
s there. Ferhoodled, that was what she was, letting herself imagine things. She hurried on. She wasn’t frightened exactly. She’d walked this way almost every day since she was six. But the loneliest section of the path was just ahead of her now, where it dipped into the pine woods before coming out behind the barn.

  It was always dark and silent in the pines. Shadowy even on a bright day, which this surely wasn’t. Well, if she didn’t go through the pines, she wouldn’t get home, not unless she went clear back to the school and walked home along the road.

  The thought of turning and walking toward the sound she thought she’d heard made her heart quail. No, it was better to go on.

  She strode into the trees, trying not to imagine things in the shadows. She was perfectly all right; in a few minutes she’d be home, and it was ridiculous to let herself be spooked.

  A sound came again, from behind her and to the right—like a body pushing through the undergrowth beyond the pines. Her heart jerked, and she forced herself to turn around, to call out.

  “Is someone there?” The dense shadows swallowed up her voice.

  No answer. But suddenly the bushes shook as if someone was forcing his way through them. In a moment he’d step into the clear space under the pines where nothing grew. She’d see him.

  No. Sara spun and ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her schoolbag thumping against her hip. Were those footsteps behind her or the thudding of her own heart? She didn’t know, and she wouldn’t stop to find out.

  She ran on, letting the bag slip down so that she could grasp the strap in her hand, with some vague thought of fending off an attack. An image of a body falling from the cliff filled her mind, accelerating her fear.

  And then she broke through into the cleared ground behind the barn, which glowed with a welcoming light. She raced through the door and into the comforting presence of her startled father and brother.