An Unexpected Joy Page 12

  “Jah, danki.” Thomas was simple-minded. Hopefully the bishop would take his brain injury into consideration. “I could use your help in the shop.”

  Abigail came up behind Micah. “You want him to help you?”

  He nodded. “I still have some things to make before tomorrow.”

  “But I thought—”

  Micah winked and enjoyed watching her face turn the shade of holly berries. “I’m sorry I had to replace you.”

  “That’s quite all right.” She leaned closer and whispered, “What did the bishop say?”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” He headed to the door with Thomas trailing. Once they were in the shop, Thomas filled the kiln while Micah mixed another batch of material. Micah wasn’t sure what the bishop would say about continuing the same work arrangement, but he whispered a short prayer and left the outcome in the Lord’s hands.

  It was getting late and the lack of window light made the last few pieces a bit more challenging. Micah clipped the end of the glass, but the piece rolled off the table and shattered on the cement floor. “Will you grab the broom, Thomas? It’s in the corner.”

  No answer.

  Micah looked over his shoulder, then turned completely, not seeing him. “Thomas?”

  A soft whimper came from behind a barrel of broken glass. Micah found Thomas hunched down, head tucked between his knees, arms shielding his head, and wracked with tremors. “It’s okay, Thomas.”

  He cowered, shaking uncontrollably and gasping.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Micah patted Thomas’s shoulder. Suddenly Thomas’s arms began flailing. He lunged at Micah, sending him several feet back and landing him hard on the floor.

  Then Thomas leapt to his feet and fled the building.

  Micah shook his head, feeling stunned. He pushed off the floor. He had to find Thomas and calm him down. In his current state, he may be a danger to himself and anyone he encountered.

  Abigail had a pot of beef stew simmering on the stove and was taking a pan of cornbread out of the oven when Micah barged into the kitchen.

  “Have you seen Thomas?”

  “I thought he was still working with you.” Abigail set the pan on the cooling rack.

  “Nay. He left. I’ve searched the area. He’s gone.”

  His sharp breaths and movements from one window to the next frightened Abigail. “What do mean, you’ve searched the area?”

  “He’s gone—I broke a piece of glass and it sent him into some sort of . . . panic mode.”

  “I’ll get mei cloak.” She headed for the door despite his warning to stay. “He probably went home,” she said, tying the ribbons of her winter bonnet under her chin.

  “Mammi, will you be okay alone? I’m going to take Abigail home, then check on Thomas.”

  “I’ll be fine. I lived alone up until a few weeks ago.”

  “I’ll try nett to be late.”

  Abigail waited until they were outside. “We’re going to check on Thomas first, right?”

  He walked faster to the barn, hitched the horse in mere minutes, and shuttled her into the buggy.

  “Micah, you’re nett telling me something. What is it?”

  “That glass shattering triggered something. One minute he’s convulsing in fear, the next he’s tackling me to the ground.”

  “He attacked you?”

  “He didn’t take a swing and he had plenty of opportunity.” Micah stopped at the intersection of Trukenmiller Road and Rambadt and waited for a car to pass.

  “Don’t turn. I have to know if he went home. Besides, it’ll be easier for me to explain what happened. Mei aenti will want to know why he’s agitated.”

  He hesitated a moment, then nodded.

  A few moments later, they pulled into Thomas’s driveway. They both climbed out of the buggy.

  Malinda answered the door. She looked at Abigail, then Micah, then steadied her puzzling gaze back on Abigail. “It’s gut to see you.” She looked beyond them with growing concern. “You didn’t bring Thomas with you?”

  “He isn’t home?”

  “Nay, why?”

  “We better kumm in and talk with your parents,” Micah said.

  Malinda teared up before hearing the news. Abigail wrapped her cousin in a tight hug as Micah told her aenti and onkel what had transpired. Arrangements were quickly made to form a search group, with Micah saying he would pass the word along to Abigail’s father and brothers.

  Abigail protested the moment they were outside. “I’m going with you.”

  Micah didn’t respond.

  “He trusts me. I can convince him—”

  “You can’t. Nett in the mental state he was in.”

  But Micah’s warning didn’t stop her from voicing her request to her father once they reached the house.

  Daed looked at Mamm. “What do you think about her going?”

  “She can ride with me,” Micah said.

  “It might be easier having two sets of eyes,” her mamm replied.

  Daed nodded. “Okay, but when we get home, you’re explaining that.” He pointed to her empty money jar. “And I better nett hear you bought Mr. Troyer’s horse.” He grabbed his hat from the hook. “I’ll stop at the bishop’s haus and let him know what’s happening. He can help spread the word for everyone to check their barns and outbuildings. Why don’t you take the road into town, Micah?”

  “Okay.” He motioned to Abigail and they left the house, picking up an extra lantern from the porch on their way to the buggy.

  Micah turned the horse toward town. He kept a tight rein, pacing him slow enough that they could scan the roadside ditches. “Why does your daed think you may have bought Cactus?” His question held a sharp irritation.

  “I was saving mei money in that Mason jar.”

  “I figured that much by the ‘Horse Fund’ label.” He swept the area with his gaze. “Why were you finishing your horse quilt?”

  “How do you know about that?” An approaching car’s headlights lit the shoulder of the road, reaching farther than their lantern glow. The heaped banks of snow from where the snowplow had cleared the highway made it difficult to see the moonlit field.

  “You bought him, didn’t you?” Micah’s tone sharpened. “You went against your father’s wishes and did it anyway. How are you going to feed that horse if your father disapproves?”

  She squared her shoulders and turned to him, but his attention was outside the buggy, searching. She should be searching. “Why does it matter to you anyway?”

  He was quiet a long while. They reached the edge of town, the stores were closed, the streets deserted. Micah made a quick pass down Main Street and covered the block around the hardware store, then drove a few blocks down the road and stopped in front of Community Fellowship Church. Micah set the brake, then shifted on the bench to face her. “It matters,” he said. “There isn’t an Amish man who wants a fraa who’s as . . . as disobedient as you.” She flinched at his words. “Or as talkative,” she said. “I know that isn’t a trait anyone wants either.”

  “Stay here,” Micah grunted as he slipped out of the buggy.

  She watched him take the sidewalk to the side entrance and go inside. Abigail slouched on the bench. Micah was the last person she wanted to hear a lecture from on what a man wants in a wife. “There isn’t an Amish man . . .”

  A lanky forty-something man introduced himself to Micah as the pastor and offered to show him around the fellowship hall once Micah had explained who he was looking for. The converted gym had a l
ong table in the center where several homeless men were eating. “We open our doors on the really cold nights, which in the winter is daily,” the pastor explained. “We don’t ask questions. We simply offer a roof over their head, something warm to eat, and the Word of God to feed their soul.”

  “That’s very generous,” Micah said.

  “You’d be surprised how many drifters we have around Christmas.”

  Micah frowned. “That’s sad.”

  “I like to believe God is calling them closer.”

  Micah spotted a man at the far end of the gym, lying on the floor wrapped in what looked like an Amish patterned quilt. “That might be him.”

  “He’s one of our regulars.”

  As Micah approached, he recognized the raggedy shoes before he saw the man’s face.

  “I’m trying to sleep,” he grumbled.

  “I noticed the Amish quilt and thought you were someone else.”

  The man sat up and gripped the blanket tighter. “It’s mine. An angel gave me this to keep warm—she gave me cookies too.”

  Cookies? Micah smiled. “I’m nett interested in your blanket. I’m looking for a friend of mine. I thought maybe he came into town.”

  “A young fellow? Wild look in his eyes?”

  That described most of the homeless in the room, but Micah nodded. “He was wearing a brown—maybe military shirt.”

  The man stretched his neck out from under the blanket like a turtle out of its shell. “Saw him awhile ago. Torn up with the shakes. You need to take him to the VA before he goes insane. Like some of us,” he mumbled. Something clanged like a metal pot hitting the floor, and the man disappeared under the blanket.

  Hope rose up within Micah. Thomas was here. He walked the length of the gym, trying not to stare, but not wanting to miss Thomas if he was one of the many lying on the floor. He came to the end of the row, his hope depleted. Then a worker called out to someone who had crawled under the long table.

  “Don’t you want to come out and get something to eat?” the worker said.

  Micah knelt down beside the table. “Thomas, it’s Micah.”

  Thomas lifted his head and looked Micah’s direction.

  “I’ve kumm to take you home. Your family is worried about you.”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s true, Thomas,” Abigail said, squatting down beside Micah. “Please, kumm back with us.”

  Thomas didn’t move.

  Abigail sat back on her heels for a moment. “I was thinking about going ice-skating,” she said.

  “Me too,” Micah added.

  A few seconds went by, then Thomas crawled out from under the table. “Do I like to skate?”

  “You love to skate, Thomas.” Abigail’s smile reached her eyes.

  CHAPTER 16

  Christmas morning Abigail woke to the tantalizing scent of cinnamon buns. A family tradition ever since she could remember, only she normally took part in preparing them. She glanced at Elizabeth’s made bed, then over to Sadie’s, and bounded out of bed. How could she have slept so hard that she missed Christmas?

  She dressed in a hurry and as she tromped down the stairs, laughter rang out from the kitchen. She hadn’t heard her mother’s lighthearted laugh since Thomas had returned and Mamm’s sister’s family had been issued the cold treatment. It sounded like music to Abigail’s ears.

  “What’s the excitement about?” Abigail looked from her mother to Elizabeth and over to young Sadie, with her hands covered in flour and white powder on the counter, the floor, the wall, everywhere.

  “I patted the mound of bread dough too hard and flour went all over,” Sadie said.

  And Mamm was laughing—hysterically. She lifted her brows at Mamm who merely shrugged. “It’s Christmas!”

  Abigail wished she shared the same joyfulness. Micah had dropped her off the night before last before taking Thomas home. Micah hadn’t wanted to spend a few minutes more alone with her, or he would have driven Thomas home first. He had told her to stay in the buggy, and she had gone inside the church after a while because Micah was taking so long and she was getting cold. Although he didn’t say anything about her not doing as she was told, he certainly hadn’t knocked on her door to see her either. Yesterday he wouldn’t have driven the glassware into town. Who’d sat with Edith?

  “You must have been tired,” her mother said.

  “Jah, must’ve been.” She yawned.

  “Daed said we’re opening gifts early since we have so many coming for Christmas dinner,” Elizabeth said.

  Abigail shifted her attention to Mamm who was tearing up and giggling at the same time. “The Lambrights will be spending Christmas with us after all,” she said, dabbing her eyes with the corner of her sleeve.

  “Even Thomas?” Abigail asked.

  Mamm nodded. “Doreen didn’t have time this morning to tell me everything, but she said Micah had talked to them and Bishop Schwartz about getting treatment for Thomas. Apparently there are doctors who specialize in treating people returning from war. His stress syndrome might just be manageable, and there’s a new study being done to help retrain the brain after injury, so maybe he can learn to control his cussing. Isn’t that the best Christmas gift ever?” Tears of joy streamed down her face. “I’m so happy for mei sister.”

  Abigail hugged her mother. “That is wunderbaar news.” Lord, let it be so. She released her mother. “Do I have time to make a fruitcake before we open gifts?” Malinda always said fruitcake was the best part of the holidays, and Abigail wanted to make a special one for her.

  “Let’s get it started nau,” Mamm said. “It can be baking while we open gifts.”

  Abigail hadn’t heard this much excitement in the kitchen in a long time. She could hardly keep her emotions about Micah intact. She would thank him first thing when he arrived later today for the meal. That is, if he would listen to her.

  Daed called everyone into the sitting room just as Abigail slipped the fruitcake into the oven. It seemed odd opening presents this early in the day, but the twins and Sadie were certainly excited.

  Abigail untied the piece of yarn from around the package Elizabeth had given her. She unwrapped a beautiful royal-blue dress and matching apron. “I love it, danki.” She rose from her chair and hugged her sister. “I didn’t even see you working on this.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I’m going to wear it to dinner tonight.” She sat down, barely paying attention to what everyone else unwrapped. She ran her hand over the fine stitches. Would Micah like this color on her? She hoped her stockings without the holes were clean. She touched the strings on her prayer kapp. She would replace it with the one she saved for Sundays. It wasn’t tattered.

  Daed placed a brown paper-wrapped package on her lap.

  “I have another one?” Abigail thought she’d unwrapped everything. Opening the box, her eyes misted as she stared at the leather halter. “It’s beautiful.”

  Daed smiled. “I think you’ll have use for it one day—when you find the right horse.”

  “This will give me incentive to start saving again.”

  “Nett Cactus,” Daed said, then cleared his throat. “I want you to know how pleased I am that you were willing to sacrifice something that meant so much to you. You responded to others’ needs as Jesus would want, and I’m proud of you.” He looked at Mamm and winked. “I need to get something from the barn. I have one more gift to bring in.”

  “I’ll help.” David followed him outside.

  A few minutes later, they returned with a wooden rocke
r for Mamm. Her face glowed as she eased into the chair. “It’s perfect,” she said, running her hands along the armrests.

  Elizabeth leaned closer to Abigail. “You better go change. Micah will be here soon.” Her sister was already a vision of beauty wearing her forest-green dress. James was also due to arrive for their family dinner. “I’ll help get dinner ready, you go.”

  Abigail gathered the dress into her arms and scooted upstairs. She hadn’t felt this nervous—ever. The dress was a perfect fit. Abigail twirled around in a tight circle. She hadn’t worn a new dress in a long time. She removed her prayer kapp, letting her hair fall over her shoulder. She heard a buggy pull into the driveway and rushed to the window. James was the first to arrive. Abigail brushed her hair and secured her Sunday kapp in place. More voices filtered upstairs as other guests arrived.

  Abigail padded down the steps. She greeted Edith who, with Mamm’s help, was removing her cloak at the door. Abigail’s gaze automatically traveled the room for Micah. He wasn’t in the sitting room with David, James, and Daed. She eased over to the window and glanced outside. His horse and buggy was tied to the post next to the barn. Her shoulders dropped. Had he changed his mind about dinner?

  “He had to run back home,” Edith said as though reading her mind.

  “But he’s still coming for dinner?”

  “Yes, dear.” Edith smiled warmly. “Is that a new dress you’re wearing?”

  Abigail nodded. “Elizabeth made it.”

  “That blue is a gut color on you.”

  “Danki.” She hoped Micah thought the same.

  “Can I make you a cup of tea, Edith?” Mamm motioned toward the kitchen and Edith joined her, commenting on how good the turkey smelled.

  Abigail glanced out the window again. Why wouldn’t Micah have taken his buggy? She meandered into the kitchen. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” she asked her mother.

  “We’re just waiting on the turkey,” Mamm said.

  She wouldn’t be able to eat a bite if Micah wasn’t back. She removed a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water, and took a drink. A knock sounded at the door and she spilled water down the front of her dress.