Fire in the Night (34 page)

Matthew was hitching his horse to the carriage to take her home, an unbelievable occurrence, a dream come true, and here she was, thinking about Melvin’s shirts. What an old maid!

She was stopped at the door by Rose, who was breathing hard.

“Is…is Matthew taking you home?”

“Yes. He brought me.”

“Oh. Yes, well. That’s…well. Okay. Have a good night.”

“Night, Rose.”

Matthew’s horse was prancing, so Sarah lost no time running out to the buggy, swiftly getting in, and firmly closing the door. When he released the reins, they were off with a hard jerk, the gravel pinging against the buggy as the horse’s speed increased.

Matthew was busy controlling the eager horse, so he said nothing, and Sarah watched his profile, the perfect downward slope of his nose.

She’d go shopping with Melvin. She’d ask him to go along to Rockvale Square to visit a few men’s shops. Oh, he’d protest. There would be nothing harder for Melvin to swallow than being told he needed help with his clothes. In his own eyes, he was quite dapper, but if that Edna turned out to be interested, he’d better get a few shirts. Maybe gray, or almost black. A pinstripe wouldn’t hurt.

Perhaps that was the reason Edna was in her eleventh year of teaching. She was almost thirty years old. And she became as flustered as someone Priscilla’s age meeting Melvin in his brilliant teal colored shirt.

“What did Rose have to say tonight?”

Matthew’s voice split apart the reverie, and she had to shake off the image of Edna before replying.

“Oh, not much. She seemed thrilled to play ping-pong with Lee Glick.”

Intended barbs like that fired much too quickly. They were completely untypical of Sarah, and she knew it. Where they borne of desperation?

Matthew’s voice was low and harsh. “Yeah, well. It might be a good idea to eliminate the girls playing against the guys, and you know it.”

There was no answer to this, so she remained quiet, afraid she might upset him again.

The night was moving around them, the horse’s mane and tail blowing, the weeds shivering beside the road, bushes shaking thin branches at the wind’s command. Distant pole lights seemed to blink as branches raked across their beams, and the buggy swayed just a bit as they rounded a curve.

An oncoming buggy dimmed its headlights, and Matthew clicked the dimmer switch on the floor with his foot.

“Old Dutchies are out late tonight,” he muttered.

Sarah laughed, hoping to elevate his mood. He smiled in return, which encouraged Sarah to bring the evening to a better note with happy chatter of her week at the market, launching into a vivid account of her new acquaintance, Ashley.

“I didn’t think you were the type to make friends with English girls. Especially not someone like her.”

“Oh, but she’s so nice. She seems genuinely interested in the barn fires that have been going on all year. She’s so caring. I think it really bothers her that we’re all going through this together.”

Matthew nodded. “You better be careful, Sarah. She might know more than you think. Don’t trust anyone, as long as these fires are being lit.”

“Alright. I’ll be careful.”

They turned into the Beiler lane, and too soon, Matthew tugged on the reins, stopping the horse at the end of the sidewalk.

Just when Sarah could hardly bear to lift her hand to tug on the door handle, Matthew’s voice stopped her.

“You don’t have to go in right away.”

Slowly, slowly, her hand slid down, and her breathing almost stopped. The wind whipped the branches of the maple tree. Somewhere a gate clanked against the chain that restrained it. A heifer bawled from its enclosure, a small plastic bag whirled away, causing Matthew’s horse to lift its head suddenly, and he tightened the reins.

Then, “Sarah, do you think Rose is unhappy?”

“No.” Too quickly, too decisively, the word was placed between them.

“She doesn’t miss me?”

“No.”

“How well do you know her?”

“We’ve been friends forever. I know her very well. She is after Lee Glick now.”

After the words were out, she felt as if she was sliding uncontrollably into a world where there was no safety, no restraint. Her heartbeat fluttered and accelerated, until she became lightheaded. Oh, but, please God. I’m so close. Please don’t take him away.

She wasn’t lying. She just wasn’t including all the facts. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and told Matthew that Rose was doing just fine, was happy now, whereas after the break-up, she hadn’t been. Matthew listened quietly and nodded speculatively.

There was a space of silence that prickled uncomfortably with unspoken feelings, words that hung in the balance, deciding Sarah’s future. If Matthew did not come to a decision tonight, when? Oh, when would he ever?

A gentle nod of her conscience reminded her of the timeframe, that it was too recent that Rose had ended the relationship. But Sarah was afraid that if Matthew didn’t commit now, he might never.

Finally he sighed. “Sarah, you know how it is. I’m still not really moving on. I miss her terribly. But if I know that it’s absolutely hopeless, once I find out for sure, will you be my girl?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, Matthew! Of course I will.”

Too quickly, too exuberantly again, and she knew it. But like the wind howling outside the buggy, her caution was caught up and whirled away.

With Matthew, all thoughts of right or wrong were confused, the line blurred into a fuzzy gray that her conscience could never quite completely touch.

Why then, when he pulled her roughly against him, his face lowered as his mouth found hers, did she pull back? Was she afraid, with the thought of Mam’s warnings forced between them?

“Matthew.”

“What? What’s wrong now, Sarah?”

She heard the urgency in his voice and succumbed, allowing herself the privilege of being in his arms, blindly erasing the overwhelming feeling of something being not quite perfect.

How many years had she imagined this? How many months had she wondered how it would feel to be in Matthew’s arms?

It was Mam—that was all.

A sob rose in her throat, as unexpected as a beam of light on this stormy night. She stumbled into the house, her covering disheveled, her hair windblown, her heart and mind caught in a sweet but indefinable misery.

As she lay sleepless, the branches creaking outside her window, she choked back the mysterious lump that kept rising in her throat. She was tired, that was all. That, and Mam’s dire warnings.

Well, Mam knew a lot, but she didn’t know Matthew, so she’d get over it eventually. No matter that she was clearly second best. She would be first in his life.

She flipped on her side and was shocked to find tears sliding across her nose. She swiped viciously at them, a fingernail slicing into the skin below her eye. She winced, squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as possible, and tried to give praises to God for Matthew’s love. But she found that not quite possible either, like a harmonica with one stuck key, just one note short of perfect.

So Sarah pushed past the mysterious tears, the image of Mam, the warnings, the stuck note that stubbornly refused its song. She prayed the prayer of too many young girls whose hearts and wills are not in complete sync with the will of a loving heavenly Father.

God, please listen to my prayer and give Matthew the love I feel for him. I want him so much. Not my will, but thine, Lord, you know that. All things are visible to you, including my thoughts. Please, bless me with Matthew.

In time, it would all straighten out, she knew. Even if it wasn’t perfect now, God would provide. Placing her trust firmly in his hands, she fell into a troubled sleep. But she woke up crying, thinking Mervin had called her.

All this, however, was tucked into a hidden recess of her mind, and the face she presented to her mother at the breakfast table was one of sweet and unconfused innocence. Except for the lurking shadows Sarah was completely unaware of.

Mam watched her daughter and knew how much wisdom and patience it would take to keep her peace.

Chapter 25

B
Y MONDAY EVENING,
the wind had died down and the air had turned crisp and cold. Dat spread clean, yellow straw in the horse stable, preparing for the horses that would be tied in the stalls.

As he fluffed up the clean bedding, his lips moved in prayer, putting this meeting of minds into God’s hands. He knew well how meetings could turn disastrous, with everyone voicing their own opinions, each one different, and sometimes espousing views that were poorly thought out and coupled with passion and self-will.

But it was good they could come together like this, and he walked through the barn with an optimistic outlook. He was glad old Aaron Glick would be among them, and he was pleased that there remained a measure of respect for the older generation.

Levi was in fine fettle, dressed in a blue shirt, his hair shampooed and combed with slow and deliberate care, his glasses polished, held to the light, and polished again. He knew this was a matter of importance, and he knew the fact that he had seen that white car would finally be noticed.

And the biggest highlight would be his mother’s warm cinnamon rolls, frosted with caramel icing. She said he’d be allowed coffee, although it had to be decaffeinated. Decaf. That’s what people said when they ordered breakfast at a restaurant.

Levi loved to drink coffee with the men. He didn’t particularly enjoy the bitter taste. But if he put lots of creamer into it and had plenty of cinnamon rolls on the side, it made him feel like one of the men, sitting there, grimacing that certain way, to show he could drink it hot, like a man.

So when the men began to stream through the door and take their seats around the kitchen table, Levi sat at the end, reaching up a heavy arm to shake hands enthusiastically, so glad to see Omar’s Sam and Abbie’s Ben’s Amos, Davey Esh, and Sammie’s Reuben, for he knew them all. Levi rarely forgot a name or a face, usually connecting the two within seconds.

Dat opened the meeting with a moment of silence, and Levi looked very grave when the men’s heads were lifted. He knew who God was, and he knew that it was important to include that invisible chap at times like this.

Dat spoke first, as minister as well as a victim. He spoke of the fact that they had no clues at all about the arsonist, other than his son Levi’s description of a white car, and he’d let Levi tell them exactly what had occurred that night.

Levi cleared his throat, looked around the length of the table to make sure he had everyone’s attention, and then drew his eyebrows down behind his glasses. He sighed with resignation when Melvin appeared at the kitchen door and said, “Come in, Melvin. You should have come earlier.” There was friendly chuckling as Melvin slid unabashed into the remaining chair.

Levi waited, then began, his voice low and strong, his demeanor one of pure enjoyment.

“As you know, the night the barn burned, I was sick with
hals vay
(sore throat). I was up and around.”

Dat hid a smile, his son so obviously holding court and his choice of words so clearly premeditated.

“I thought it was so strange that a white car would come in the lane at such a late hour.”

Here, Levi’s eyes narrowed, and he achieved that perfect cunning look of his, the one he assumed when he played Memory with Suzie.

“I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, the car was going past the house already.”

Dat’s head lifted, his gaze became intent. “You mean going back out?”

“
Ya. Ya
.”

“You never mentioned that, Levi.”

“Well, I’m not done, Davey. Maybe you’d want to stay
sochta
(quiet).”

The men exercised great restraint then, no one wanting to upset Levi, but they found it hilarious that he had called his father by his given name. Oh, he was a character, they said after the meeting.

“The shape of the tail lights was sort of round and down low, so I remembered them. I have a whole pile of football cards, you know, and then I started collecting car cards. Vehicles, you know.
Scheena. Mascheena.
”

He had everyone’s attention now, the roomful of faces turned toward him.

“Suzie, I need a glass of water.” Suzie, seated in the background, blushed and looked frantic, reluctant to be seen by all the
freme
(strangers). So Melvin got up and poured him a cold drink from the pitcher in the refrigerator and handed it to him.

As wily as a small bird, Levi’s eyes twinkled up at Melvin, “Is your name Suzie?”

With that, Levi slapped the tabletop with great hilarity, and no one could keep from laughing as he took his time drinking the water, for all the world an imitation of his father when he preached. He then looked around for a place to set his tumbler even though the tabletop was clearly in front of him.

Dat thanked God silently for the gift of his son with Down syndrome and the way he spread humor and goodwill around the table. Just stay with us, Lord, he begged.

“So,” Levi resumed, “as close as I can get to it, I think it was a little Volkswagen. An older model from 1978. Like this one.”