Disappearances (33 page)

“What? Who? Who’s taking the children?”

“They. The people. Their mother.”

Sadie got to her feet, sat down heavily, disbelief in her eyes as she met Dorothy’s swollen tear-filled ones.

“But … how can they? We weren’t sure they … their mother was alive.”

“Oh, she’s alive all right.”

This was said with so much bitterness, so much dejection, it was hard for Sadie to grasp the depth of this great-hearted person’s disappointment.

“Sid down!” Dorothy commanded, so Sadie sat.

With a sigh Dorothy got up, bringing a cherry pie and a gallon of whole milk. Heavily, she went to the refrigerator, rummaging, searching, finding cheese, ham, a container of onions, then slid them onto the table.

“Git yerself a plate.”

Again Sadie obeyed, grabbing the whole wheat rolls sitting on the counter. As they ate, the whole miserable story unfolded. It had all started with a phone call, the foreign-sounding voice saying she was Louis’s and Marcellus’s birth mother—and how soon could she come for a visit?

“I knowed it would happen. I had a feelin’. Somepin’ about that there bag o’ jewelry. It jus’ seemed to run alongside them other ones, sewn in them horses’ halters. I pushed it back, thought it was ridiculous, or tried to.

“Well, she came. Yesterday. It’ll be all over the news. This woman, she’s a beautiful lady, looks like Louis. She was a victim. Her husband’s the brains, the whole mastermind, Jim said, behind all the thievin’ and goings on. Her and the children knew too much. The husband threatened them.

“Oh, Sadie, the evil! Like the devil himself. She feared for her life and those children’s, so she did what she thought was best. She knows Richard and Barbara. She figured if no one knew where they came from, they’d never be found, and Richard Caldwell would never turn anyone away.

“She left the country, went to Spain or someplace Spanish. I ain’t certain. It all worked out for her. They caught the … forget what Jim calls him. Anyway, the husband. They got him. They’s a bunch of ’em. They brought her back to reunite with the children.

“The costly diamonds in that blue sack? They were to keep the children from harm. Some strange belief. I think she figured it would help provide for them, if you sold them anyhow. She don’t seem pertickler religious to me.

“So, think about it. The whole horse-thievin’ thing was right under our noses. Kin’ you think about it, Sadie? My children’s daddy! He was the one gittin’ rich. Stolen horses, jewels, cars, anything he could get away with, dozens of people working for him. Livin’ in a mansion. Like a king. Livin’ off stolen goods. These poor innocent children.”

Dorothy’s voice drifted off as grief overwhelmed her. Sadie’s mind raced. Was it the mansion where she had been held? Could it be?

“Them children, though. It was a sight.”

She cut a wide slice of cherry pie, slid it carefully onto her plate. Taking the knife, she cut a sizable chunk off the point, lifting it carefully to her mouth, expertly sliding the knife away. She chewed methodically, then swallowed.

“Needs sugar,” she stated dryly.

“Them children. The joy of the angels came straight down and settled over ’em. They jus’ stood there against my couch. I’ll never forget. The mother came through that door. She’s beautiful. Did I tell you? Black hair, dark skin, her dark eyes. She was dressed nice. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t move.

“Them children knew her. Right away, so they did. You could see it in their eyes. Louis didn’t say anything. But that Marcelona, ya know how she is. Quick. She said as plain as day, ‘My mama.’

“That’s when it all broke loose. They just crashed together and hugged and kissed and carried on. It was a sight. I may as well not even been in the room. Ol’ Dorothy was forgotten.”

Sadie nodded, understood.

“We talked then. Understood. Said she’ll owe me for the rest of her life. The little blue sack? They ain’t stolen. They … ”

Here Dorothy looked away. When her gaze returned, her eyes meeting Sadie’s, her blue eyes were clouded with guilt.

“They’re mine now,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“What?”

Erma chose to make her entrance at that moment, announcing in her booming voice that she couldn’t get the gardener to believe those pine needles were killing the hostas. Too much acid.

“Sid down!” Dorothy commanded.

Erma sat.

“Eat your lunch.”

“Thank you, I will. I’m starved. That Bertie, he doesn’t listen to anything I say. He thinks he knows everything. He needs to transplant those hostas. Otherwise, they’ll die.”

“You said that before. Get on with your lunch. We have matters to discuss much more important than Bertie’s hostas.”

Sadie nodded soberly. Erma picked up a slice of Swiss cheese, turned the mustard bottle upside down and squeezed, pushing the whole slice into her mouth, chewing a few times before she swallowed.

“Like a frog eatin’ a minny,” Dorothy told Sadie later.

Sadie told Erma Dorothy’s story as briefly as she could, then Dorothy resumed quietly.

“It’s hard. It’s jes’ terrible hard. They stayed till evening to make things easier for me. She brought boxes. We packed up their things. But in the end, I had to let them go.

“They’re going to live with her mother and dad, in New Mexico. She’s gettin’ a divorce. Well, an annulment. They’re strict Catholics. He’ll be in jail for a long time. Maybe always. She cried, said he was a good man till greed, pride, got in the way. She says he fell in with the wrong people. A horrible, bad influence. They preyed on his weakness. I think, in a way, she still loved him but knew she had to get away from him.

“I kissed them good-bye, told them to be good. We all cried, all of us. Even the children, bless their hearts. Now I’m left with them jewels. I feel so guilty. Jim says I shouldn’t. I don’t know how much they’re worth. Jim says I can retire. I’d rather have my children. My angels, I always said. It’ll break my heart at this age. I can’t take it.”

She cut herself another slice of pie, shaking her head.

“I’m gonna give the money to the church. Go right on workin’ here till I die.”

“Dorothy, why? I’m quitting here in September. It might be a good time for you to retire.”

“Retire? What would I do? Crochet? No, that’s not fer me. Where would I get my paycheck? Money don’t grow on trees, ya know.”

“The jewels.”

“I’m givin’ ’em to the church.”

“Dorothy, the Bible says to tithe a tenth. Just a tenth would be perfectly honorable.”

Dorothy ate more cherry pie, drank milk, wiped her face, then said she was in no shape to make decisions. She taped pictures of Louis and Marcellus on the refrigerator and on the bathroom mirror. She put other pictures in frames and set them on countertops. She asked Richard Caldwell if he wanted one for his office.

Jim came in for a sandwich, nodding his head as Dorothy spoke of her plans for the future. Jim’s voice was so kind, so rough with emotion when he told her it was her choice, that he’d be here for her no matter what she decided to do. When he laid his large, gnarled, work-worn hand on her shoulder, calling her “Ma dear,” and she lifted her weeping, red-rimmed eyes to his, the beauty of it brought a tightening to Sadie’s throat.

Oh, Dorothy would work on, saying she needed the paycheck. She’d feel guilty about the money, the jewels. In September, though, she wouldn’t last long. She’d sputter, falter, then say her sciatica was flaring up, and the doctor gave her orders to stop working.

She’d be happy, making many trips to the Dollar General for her necessities, enjoying herself thoroughly, tooling that old car all over the Montana countryside, visiting Sadie, taking her places, finally freed from the pressures of her job, wondering why she hadn’t done this a long time ago. That was just Dorothy.

It was all over the news, then. Dat read his paper and whistled, low. Reuben almost popped a blood vessel in excitement, saying he should be given a large reward for tracking those vehicles through the snow that night. Mark and Tim bent over the paper, reading out loud to each other, exclaiming, talking until their supper was completely over-baked.

“Dumb! I mean, what were these guys thinking?” Tim asked.

“I think they actually got to the place where they felt invincible,” Mark answered. “Like, well, we’re big horse thieves and got away with it all these years, so who would care about a few million-dollars’ worth of jewelry heisted here and there. You know? Don’t they say something like this is usually found out because of their brashness, the longer it goes on, the bolder they become? That’s their undoing in the end.”

Tim nodded.

Sadie sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, feeling tired and drained after the day’s emotional toll.

Dorothy developed a headache after lunch, but Sadie knew it was more a heartache, mourning the loss of her “angels.” Yet the way she had described the children’s mother, how could you not be happy for them? To be returned to their rightful place, with the mother they had never forgotten, was, after all, a tremendous gift of God. It would take awhile before Dorothy could accept this, but Sadie knew she would.

Dorothy had gone home early leaving Erma and Sadie scrambling to prepare the huge evening meal. Erma made meat loaf with green peppers and bacon, a lavish sauce spread thickly on top, served with fried potatoes, coleslaw, green beans, and onions cooked in a cheese sauce.

Sadie told her the grease and calories were stacked to the ceiling. Erma hooted and chortled, saying nothing would be left, that all men loved meat loaf and just wait till the compliments came rolling in.

Sure enough, one by one, friendly, grizzled, weather-beaten faces appeared at the kitchen door with grins of appreciation. “Great meal!” “Thanks!” all of which Erma answered without the slightest trace of humility. She was the perfect replacement for Dorothy. No one could handle it better. She had self-confidence to spare, was a fast worker, and clean-up time was cut in half when she was there to help.

Sadie’s head sank lower into her cupped hands, her eyes became heavy lidded as Tim and Mark exchanged remarks about the article. It was the talk of the community for quite some time. The elderly among them shook their heads in the wise way older people do, saying surely the world was encroaching into their way of life. They had to be more careful.

Well, that Jacob Miller’s Sadie was married, at least, and the way it looked, she wouldn’t be going on with too many shenanigans anymore, which was a good thing. She was the one that started the whole thing, taming those wild horses, now wasn’t she?

Fred Ketty told them sharply that Sadie was as innocent as the day was long, she was just a victim of circumstance. But then old Henry “Ernie” said “God chasteneth those he loveth,” and with Sadie riding around like that against people’s advice, he definitely took her in hand. That shut Fred Ketty up.

The minister spoke a stirring sermon that Sunday, setting right any misplaced blame. As was their way, he was thankful. Thankful for the
obrichkeit
(government). Thankful for rulers who still enforced the law. A community of caring English people who worked together to eschew evil.

On this Sunday, the usual thanksgiving for being allowed their freedom of religion held deeper meaning. To live among the English people, preserving their way of life as much as possible, was something, wasn’t it?

Change would come, but slowly. The adherence to the old ways seemed worthless to some, but they had structure, tradition, order, all the things that kept the people together, dwelling in the Montana countryside. He thanked God for the people of the community, wishing the blessing from above for them all.

It was a moving sermon, the main topic being thankfulness. Hearts were full of gratitude as they assembled at the dinner table. The old practice of having a light lunch after services was more meaningful that day.

The steaming coffee poured from silver coffeepots, the pungent aroma of small green pickles, spicy red beets, platters of meat and cheese—it was all home. It was a place on earth where you belonged, and it belonged to you in return. A safe place to grow, to mature, to learn, to stay.

Being Amish, you knew there were boundaries. If you overstepped these boundaries, you got in trouble. Was not that the way of the English, as well? Of course it is for every person. Here on earth, because human nature is our burden, we all need boundaries. It was when the fear of those boundaries is replaced with audacity, boldness, lack of respect for authority, that’s when people get themselves into trouble, just like the horse thieves, Sadie thought. So our boundaries are a bit stricter, tighter, but if it’s a way of life, it becomes a culture, she knew.

She loved her people, from Dat and Mam to Fred Ketty. She loved Dorothy and Richard Caldwell the same. It was the way God intended, to be friendly, share God’s love, and dwell among the English in peace.

Mark was in a pensive mood driving Truman home from church, the reins loose in his hands, the warm breeze stirring the short, black hair surrounding his tanned face.

“What would you like to do this afternoon?” he asked Sadie.

“Could we pack a picnic lunch and go riding?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Is it okay for you?”

“Certainly. As long as we take it slow. But let’s stay off the road. No use getting anyone all riled up.”

Mark laughed. “You already did rile up a lot of people with your riding.”

“No more,” Sadie said, soberly.

And so they did go riding. It was the most memorable ride in Sadie’s life. The sheer beauty of the country, the gratitude in her heart for Paris’s health, for her husband, her church, the minister’s message, the sun’s warmth, the waving of the wildflowers, was almost more than Sadie could bear.

And when Mark rode Truman close to Paris, reached out and held Sadie’s hand in his strong one, she burst into tears of joy she could not contain. When Mark’s eyes teared up as well, and he told her he loved her today more than ever, that he was thankful for having her as his wife, she sniffled and had to wipe her eyes with her sleeve. She cried and laughed at the same time and said she guessed she was a little crazy, being in the family way, but he was not to worry when she got like this.