The Redemption of Sarah Cain (13 page)

L
et God lead you to us. . . .’’

Her niece’s words resonated in Sarah’s mind while she stood in line at the Budget rental car desk at the Harrisburg airport. She turned her attention to the various travelers awaiting their luggage on the carousel across the wide corridor.

Sarah lamented anew her predicament. Last evening’s phone call had turned into a dismal affair. Lydia had not adequately described—in specific terms—the whereabouts of the Cottrell farmhouse. It sounded so rural, quite remote. What had Ivy done to her children, taking them to live among Amish folk?

Waiting her turn at the rental car counter, Sarah recalled years-old arguments, how Ivy and her husband had made one eccentric choice after another for themselves and their children. They’d deprived their offspring of a normal American life, isolating them from the real world.

‘‘It’s how we want to live,’’
Ivy maintained.
‘‘And it’s no one’s
business but ours.’’

Now it’s my business
, thought Sarah.
If there’s a God, He’ll
have
to lead me. No question
.

Lydia clutched her throat as she spied Caleb running across the barnyard, carrying Hannah’s limp body.

‘‘Call the Amish doctor,’’ Caleb was shouting. ‘‘Hurry!’’

‘‘Ach, no!’’ She knew better than to do such a thing. Dat and Mamma had never wanted anything to do with the powwow doctors in the area. Preacher Esh had even spoken out from the pulpit against occult practices such as that. She had no idea what Caleb was thinking, askin’ her to do such a thing. Still, someone should be called. She could see it sure as day.

‘‘We might be needin’ help from the
Brauchdokder,
’’ he said again, his eyes more serious now as he approached the sidewalk leading to the house. ‘‘She seems to have the wind knocked out of her.’’

‘‘Let me have a look at her,’’ Lydia insisted. She followed Caleb through the screened-in back porch, utility room, and kitchen to the front room, where he bent low, placing Hannah gently on the flat cushions of the straight-backed sofa.

Josiah and Anna Mae hovered near. ‘‘Looks like she’s breathin’ all right now,’’ Josiah was first to say.

Little Hannah was trying to sit up, moaning all the while. ‘‘W-what happened to me?’’ she asked, rubbing her head.

‘‘The snow fort fell in . . .’’ Caleb’s voice trailed away.

‘‘I nearly got suff’cated,’’ Hannah cried.

Lydia knelt beside the couch to attend to her sister. ‘‘Can you breathe all right?’’

Hannah drew in her breath and held it a second, then out. ‘‘Jah, I think so.’’

Lydia felt her sister’s head. ‘‘Do you have any bumps anywhere?’’ ‘‘Back here.’’ Hannah pointed.

Lydia felt where her sister’s hand rested, under a warm winter bonnet. ‘‘Let’s take this off you.’’

‘‘Am I gonna be all right, Lyddie?’’

Nodding, Lydia truly hoped so, because without Aunt Sarah here, they—all of them—might find themselves in hot water with the local authorities. Though her parents never put their hope or trust in anyone but God himself, still, if Hannah needed medical attention . . . Well, Lydia just hoped and prayed she wouldn’t have to risk puttin’ her family in jeopardy, not that-away.

Mamma’s lawyer had said the five of them
had
to have an adult guardian, couldn’t just live on their own the way they knew how to. ‘‘Your aunt Sarah is in charge of you children.’’ Mr. Eberley’s strong words annoyed her. ‘‘We’re required by due process to abide by Sarah Cain’s wishes.’’

‘‘Whether we take much to the idea or not,’’ Lydia had muttered offhand.

But now, feelin’ the hard knot on the back of little Hannah’s head, Lydia wished Aunt Sarah would arrive this minute!

‘‘If you won’t call the Brauchdokder, then I
will
!’’ Caleb declared, removing his coat and black felt hat.

‘‘Now, just wait a minute,’’ she replied, putting the slightest pressure on Hannah’s head. ‘‘I think all we need is some ice.’’

Caleb was gone in a jiffy, which was just what she’d hoped for. She could think more clearly without stress-filled remarks spoutin’ out of her worrywart brother’s mouth.

She stroked her sister’s forehead. ‘‘You’re goin’ to be all right,

Hannah,’’ she whispered. ‘‘I believe you are.’’

‘‘My head ain’t broke, is it?’’ Hannah asked, trying to move it and wincing a bit as she did.

‘‘Prob’ly just a bump.’’

‘‘You won’t let the powwow doctor come, will ya?’’

She shook her head. ‘‘Mamma always said we should pray to God for our needs. So that’s what we’re goin’ to do.’’

Hannah’s head moved up and down slowly, and her eyes seemed to be getting brighter as she did. ‘‘Mamma knew things ’bout God, didn’t she?’’

‘‘Jah, she did.’’

‘‘So why don’tcha pray for my head the way Mamma used to?’’ Hannah’s hand reached out to grasp Lydia’s own.

‘‘I . . . I don’t know for sure what to pray.’’ And she didn’t, not really, but when she thought of the possibility of policemen coming and snatchin’ them away, separating them far from each other, she knew there was
something
—surely, there was—that she could be prayin’ in front of her hurt sister and the others.

Just then Caleb marched back into the room, carrying a plastic bag of ice cubes. ‘‘Will this do?’’

‘‘
Denki
.’’ She took the ice and turned Hannah gently on her side, holding the ice bag against her wee head. ‘‘This’ll help the pain and make the bump go down right quick, I’m thinkin’.’’

Hannah smiled up at her, long lashes brushing her cheek. ‘‘You know, you could be a nurse, too, Lyddie . . . and a teacher both.’’

She felt gladdened, seein’ the color begin to creep back into Hannah’s cheeks. Relieved, really. Maybe everything was goin’ to be all right after all.

‘‘Don’t forget the prayer,’’ Hannah reminded her.

Lydia caught Caleb’s eyes. ‘‘She wants someone to pray for her the way Mamma always did when we were sick or hurt.’’ She truly hoped her brother might offer to do just that.

‘‘Well, what’re you waitin’ for?’’ He sounded timid just now and a bit put out, all mixed up.

‘‘Gather ’round, children,’’ Lydia said, trustin’ that she might find the right words, ’specially because she was still feeling guilty, knowin’ she oughta be confessing her sins before almighty God instead of askin’ for favors.

Sarah paused on the front porch of the old farmhouse before knocking. What she saw through the window kept her hand poised in midair. Inside, two girls and two boys knelt with bowed heads, hovering over a small girl who was stretched out on a tan sofa, wearing snow boots and a long black coat. The oldest of the group—most likely Lydia—also wore a dark woolen coat, her high-topped black shoes showing under the hem of her purple dress.

Sarah marveled at their clothing—the one thing she’d failed to consider until the passenger next to her on the plane had mentioned the distinctive Amish apparel. The younger boy, the one with golden hair, wore a wide-brimmed black felt hat, a gray coat, and snow boots. But it was the back of Lydia’s head and the cap of white netting perched over a thick hair bun at the back of her neck that captured Sarah’s attention. Observing the cap, she had a feeling it represented something devout, perhaps prayerful.

Not wanting to interrupt, she waited behind the beveled glass. If the family scene had not been so tender, she might’ve knocked. What they were doing, assembled that way around the youngster, she was not entirely certain. But the serene moment reminded her of another winter day, not so long ago, when children and teachers had gathered, bowed low around the body of a lifeless child on the playground’s cold surface. The present scene became somewhat eerie in its scope due to the scalding memory, and she had to look away for a moment to compose herself.

After a time, the tallest boy rose from his kneeling position and left the room. His gait was measured, though his facial expression seemed to indicate that he was irritated.

She took advantage of the lull and, inhaling sharply, knocked on the door.

Instantly a teenage girl came, followed by a younger boy and girl. ‘‘Hullo?’’ said the girl in the dark purple dress and black pinafore-style apron. ‘‘Are you . . . Aunt Sarah?’’

Stunned, Sarah looked into the face of the beautiful Amish girl, nearly identical to Ivy’s—a youthful rendering of Sarah’s own sister. ‘‘Yes, and you must be . . . are you Lydia Cottrell?’’

A robust smile spread across the rosy-cheeked face. ‘‘Jah, I’m Lyddie.’’

The other children, except the youngest, pushed in for a closer look. ‘‘Ask her in out of the cold,’’ whispered the towheaded boy. ‘‘She’ll catch her death . . .’’

‘‘Oh, I’m awfully sorry,’’ Lydia said, opening the door wider. ‘‘Please, come in and get warm.
Willkomm
, Aunt Sarah.’’

Rather astonished at the children’s reaction to her, Sarah forced herself to remain composed. One child asked to take her coat; another, her knit scarf; yet another, her gloves. ‘‘Thank you,’’ she replied, noticing the girl on the sofa.

‘‘We’d best introduce ourselves so you know who’s who,’’ Lydia said, seemingly in charge of the brood. ‘‘But first, will you excuse me for just a minute?’’ She turned toward the kitchen, calling, ‘‘Caleb, come now and meet Aunt Sarah. She has just arrived.’’

Sarah was surprised at the speed with which Lydia’s brother responded. Ivy’s oldest son was before her in an instant.

‘‘Hullo.’’ He extended his hand. ‘‘My name is Caleb.’’

‘‘Very nice to meet you, Caleb.’’ She shook his hand briefly. Lydia tapped the top of her sister Anna Mae’s head, then Josiah, saying each of their names and ages. Quickly, then, she went to the sofa, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting Sarah and the others to follow. ‘‘And this is our little sister, Hannah.’’ ‘‘I thought you’d
never
come,’’ the diminutive girl said, struggling to prop herself on one elbow to have a look at her.

Gazing into the radiant face of this exquisite child, Sarah felt tense, yet transfixed. ‘‘I’m here now,’’ she managed to say. Then, ‘‘Have you been ill?’’

‘‘Hannah fell in the snow . . . had the wind knocked clean out of her,’’ Lydia explained. ‘‘She’s got a knot on the back of her head.’’ She lifted a bag of ice off Hannah’s head. ‘‘We were praying for her just as you came.’’ She shot an ardent glance at Caleb. ‘‘So I don’t think we’ll be needin’ a doctor . . . ’specially now that Aunt Sarah’s here.’’

Sarah was confused by Lydia’s comment but leaned down to inspect Hannah’s head, aware of the thick braids that wound about the little girl’s head. Her fingers located the bump. ‘‘Does that hurt, dear?’’

Hannah winced.

‘‘Can you sit up at all?’’ Sarah asked.

Hannah strained to do so with Lydia’s help. Caleb promptly stuffed a sofa pillow behind his sister. ‘‘I think I’m better now, since Lydia prayed,’’ Hannah said. Without skipping a beat, she added, ‘‘Mamma always prayed for us, ya know.’’

Sarah didn’t know firsthand, but she
had
read various accounts of Ivy’s daily religious routine via the many letters her sister was so fond of writing. It seemed Ivy’s spiritual bent had indeed rubbed off on her children.

Lydia suggested that Caleb and Josiah bring Aunt Sarah’s suitcases and things into the house. She peered out the window, mighty surprised to see a shiny red sports car parked in their lane. Disguising her gasp by coughing a little, she hoped her aunt wouldn’t notice just how surprised she
was
.

Hastily, Caleb and Josiah came huffing and puffing up the snowy walkway to the front porch, pulling a large suitcase on wheels and two squarelike bags. ‘‘Guess we shoulda had her park her fancy car ’round back,’’ Josiah whispered, lugging the two smaller suitcases.

‘‘Never mind that now,’’ Lydia said, holding the door open wide.

‘‘I daresay she’s brought enough clothes for a year,’’ Caleb said softly with a wistful smile.

Lydia thought differently, remembering the stories her mamma had told ’bout Aunt Sarah’s fondness for clothes and shoes. Truth be told, she wondered where her aunt’s trunk was or when it might be arrivin’. Or if Aunt Sarah had
other
plans— that she had come only to take them away to Oregon. She took a deep breath and stifled the troubling thought. They would find out soon enough.

She followed the boys as they hoisted the luggage up the steep flight of stairs. ‘‘My brothers are mighty strong,’’ she remarked to Aunt Sarah, who’d stepped out to lock her car. ‘‘Don’t worry ’bout them droppin’ your suitcases.’’

Her aunt only nodded, as if the mindful part of her was hundreds of miles away.

Then Caleb and Josiah came running downstairs, all smiles. Lydia led the way for Aunt Sarah up the steps to Mamma’s bedroom. ‘‘This is where you’ll be most comfortable, I’m thinkin’,’’ she said, standing in the doorway.

Aunt Sarah’s face turned nearly pale as the moon as she paused at the entrance to the large room. ‘‘Was this Ivy’s . . . I mean your
mother’s
room?’’ the slender woman asked softly.

‘‘Mamma and Dat’s both, when they were alive.’’

Her aunt made a little motion with her head that Lydia could not quite grasp, then moved past her, going into the room where just less than an hour ago Lydia had committed the sin of meddling. ‘‘I best go and check on Hannah,’’ she said, excusing herself.