The Saddle Maker's Son (20 page)

Susan forced herself to look at his face. His raw pain etched lines around his eyes and mouth. His gritted teeth made the pulse jump in his jaw. His Adam's apple bobbed. He cleared his throat but said nothing more.

A mockingbird trilled and chirped its lament in the mesquite tree that offered a poor excuse for shade over the buggy parked in front of the house. Susan breathed in and out, in and out. “Gott does forgive you. He knows what it's like to lose a loved one.”

“He does, I know. But it perplexes me that I should have so little faith that I can't get past this one thing. Our days are numbered on this earth. We pass through. My fraa is in the arms of her loving Savior. Why do I give it a second thought?”

“You wish to avoid such pain in the future, I imagine.” Every inch of her fingers ached with the desire to squeeze his hand. She focused on the mockingbird's tune. “It can't be done. With every opportunity for love and happiness comes the chance that we might instead encounter pain and loneliness and despair.”

“How did you get so wise?”

“Following Mordecai around?”

“I doubt that. More likely it was the other way around.”

“I read a lot.”

“Figured as much.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The way you talk. It's not like most Plain women.”

“I suppose it isn't.” She wouldn't apologize for a voracious appetite for words. It held her in good stead in her job of teaching. “But Gott gave me a brain. I see no shame in using His gift.”

“Nor I.”

She swallowed an inexplicable lump in her throat. “What is that in your hand?”

His gaze lifted to hers. “What?”

“In your hand, what do you have?”

He glanced down as if only then realizing he held something. “It's a basket stamp.”

“What's it for?”

“I use it to carve a pattern on the saddles. The fancier ones, anyway.”

He missed his work. “It must take a certain kind of person to hand carve a leather saddle. How long have you been doing it?”

“I apprenticed with two different saddle makers as a teenager. Back home.” His gaze went to the horizon as if he sought to see that far, to Ohio and his youth. “I like doing the carving. Some find it tedious, but I like being alone with my work and concentrating on it and nothing else.”

“How long does it take you to make a saddle?”

He turned the basket stamp over and over, weaving it through his fingers, over his knuckles, and back. “It takes about two weeks to make the basic saddle, but I need another week to do the carving. If everyone leaves me alone.”

“You want to be left alone?”

Her question seemed to hover in the air, heavy and soaked with a meaning she hadn't contemplated before uttering it. His Adam's apple bobbed. His hands stilled. “Nee, not necessarily.” His gaze wandered to her face and back to the horizon. “Sometimes.”

“But not always.”

“Nee, not always.”

“Aenti, aenti, it's ready, it's ready.” Hazel bounded across the porch, a blue plastic bowl in one hand. In it she'd heaped a small scoop of strawberry ice cream. The girls had managed to get only a small bit of rock salt in the creamy concoction. “Try it, come on, try it.”

Her delighted impatience broke the thick tension that permeated the air only a second before. Susan smiled at the little girl. How could life be anything but good when a person had a stepniece
like Hazel and fresh, homemade strawberry ice cream? When she sat in a lawn chair on the porch on the Fourth of July with a man who might be starting to look ahead rather than behind? She took the scarred spoon from Hazel's plump hand and held it out to Levi. “You first.”

“Nee.” He looked sorely tempted but held his hand up like a stop sign. “Women first.”

“You don't have to tell me twice.” She loaded the spoon and lifted it to her mouth. She couldn't help herself. She hummed with delight. “Yum. You girls did a fine job. It's delicious. Those fresh strawberries really hit the spot.”

“It's gut. It's gut.” Hazel jumped up and down. “Now you, Levi, now you.”

Levi didn't take the spoon. His gaze met Susan's. Something there made her cheeks warm despite the cool residue of ice cream in her mouth. His gaze locked on hers, his green eyes wide and seeking. Susan fought to take a breath. “Go on, try it. I don't have cooties.”

He took the spoon. His fingers, hard and calloused, brushed hers. His face reddened. To Susan's everlasting relief, his gaze dropped. “I'm not afraid of your germs.”

“You're not afraid of much.” Except more pain and loss. Fear could keep a person from joy and love too. “Which is gut because there's nothing to fear here.”

His head came up. His gaze sought hers as he spooned the ice cream into his mouth. His eyes closed and he smiled. “That is gut.”

She couldn't be sure if he meant the ice cream or her statement.

Until he winked at her.

Reds, blues, and whites glittered overhead, giving the dark sky a patriotic air. Rebekah leaned back on her propped-up arms on the tattered gray blanket crackly with dead grass and cockleburs. It smelled like the mesquite wood fire they'd lit to cook the hot dogs. She stared up at the short-lived yet beautiful sight. Life was like that. Short and sometimes beautiful. She loved the Fourth of July.

Now that the sun had gone down, the heat had begun to dissipate. The mosquitoes and flies were out in full force, however. She batted away one and then the other, slapping at her neck and her arms. Butch curled up on the blanket next to her, his occasional deep-throated whine reminding her that he truly did not approve of all this sound and fury.

Her tummy was full of hot dogs, chips, pickles, and homemade ice cream complete with chunks of fresh strawberries. Even her ankle had stopped throbbing. If Diego and Lupe were here, she might even consider herself content. But no sign of the two wayward runaways. Wherever they were, she hoped they weren't frightened by the pop and crackle that could sound very much like the gunfire they experienced in their own country.

She let her mind wander to the ride down by the pond after the singing. And the way it had ended. Heat rushed to her face. She turned the memory over in her mind like a prism that caught the sunlight, creating a new, beautiful pattern each time. The pressure of Tobias's hand on her back, the softness of his lips on hers, the warmth of his breath on her cheek. Every moment had been precious. Now she would have to spoil it by telling him about David. David and Bobbie. She didn't want to be the one to tell him his brother was meandering off the path onto the tracks of an oncoming freight train loaded with hurt and pain for everyone.

She sighed. So much for enjoying the evening. Being content. Her thoughts seemed to flit back and forth like the birds in the trees, from branch to branch.

“Such a sad sigh. What are you thinking about?”

Tobias. A low growl rumbled in Butch's throat. He raised his head, eyed Tobias, and let it drop. Acutely aware of being sprawled out on a blanket, she struggled to a sitting position. “It's nothing.” She'd been thinking of him and here he was. She'd have to tell him. “I mean, it's a lot of things.”

“A lot on your mind then?”

“There's something I need to tell you. Do you want to sit?”

He shook his head. “Me first. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” The wave of pleasure overwhelmed her apprehension for a few fleeting seconds. She looked around. “Where? Here? What is it?”

“Come on. Hurry. You'll like it. A lot.”

“Tobias! Come quick. They're back!” Rueben raced across the straggly grass, puffs of dirt pluming in the air behind his bare feet. “It's Diego and Lupe. They arrested them!”

“Nee, they didn't arrest them.” Tobias held out his hand. She took it without hesitation and he pulled her to her feet. “I brought them home. For you.”

His eyes glinted with some emotion she couldn't quite understand, but it didn't matter. Lupe and Diego were home. “They're home? You found them? They're really home?”

As home as two kinner from a foreign country could be in a tiny Amish district in South Texas. She flung herself at Tobias, her arms slapped around his waist in a no-holds-barred hug. “Danki. Danki.”

Tobias's arms slid around her, pressing her against his chest. “It's for them too.” He stepped back and peeled her arms from around his waist. His fingers brushed her cheek, warm and solid against her skin. “I wish they could stay, but they're here now. Come see them.”

They couldn't stay. Rebekah shoved the thought aside and embraced the joy that they were alive. They weren't dead by the road. They weren't sold into slavery by evil men. They had survived.

His hand tight around hers, Tobias strode across the yard. Rebekah hopped and skipped to keep up, thankful she felt no pain in her ankle. A Bee County sheriff's car, covered with dust, was parked on the dirt road, headlights casting a long, filmy light on the mesquite and live oak trees that dotted the space between the house and the barn. The engine rumbled. Behind it sat a blue minivan. Jesse? Leila? What were they doing here?

A dark figure stood in the beam from the headlights. Rebekah struggled to make him out. Jesse. It was Jesse talking to a man in a uniform wearing a white cowboy hat. They both turned as Tobias approached. Rebekah kept going, drawn to the two small figures huddled in the backseat of the minivan. The windows
were propped open. Lupe had her arm around Diego. The boy's dirty face had tracks where tears had slid down his cheeks. Dark circles like bruises ringed Lupe's eyes. She looked every bit as scared and feral as she had that first day at the schoolhouse.

“Lupe, Diego, I'm so glad to see you.” She tugged on the door. “Are you all right? Where have you been? We've missed you.”

Lupe shrugged. Diego opened his mouth. A forlorn hiccup of a sob escaped. Lupe's arm tightened around her brother. “Está bien, hermano, está bien.”

“Bang, bang, lots of bang, bang.” Another sob.

“They're fireworks. For fun. Not bang-bang of guns.” Rebekah slid onto the seat. The van smelled of French fries, greasy hamburgers, little-boy sweat, and unwashed bodies. The remnants of a fast-food meal littered the seat on the other side. Diego clutched a sweating soda cup in one hand. He'd bitten the straw until it was bent and collapsed. Rebekah tugged it from his hands and set it on the floor mat. “We'll take care of you, I promise.”

“Nee, don't make promises.” Jesse slid into the front seat and turned around so he faced her. “Wally has agreed to let me take them home to stay until their hearing, but it doesn't help that they ran away the first time.”

“Your house? I want them to stay here.”

“I know you do, but Wally has strict orders to turn over any illegal aliens to ICE. Letting them stay with us is a huge concession on his part. One that can get him in a lot of trouble.”

Rebekah slipped her arm around Diego and hugged hard. “Where did you find them?”

“We found them Dumpster diving outside the Dairy Queen. Then Wally found us. He's a member of our church. He's a good guy, so he's trying to give us a break.”

“Dumpster diving?”

“Looking for food.” Jesse sighed. “Wally agreed to bring them out here so they could see you and you could tell them it's okay for them to stay with Leila and me. We'll take care of them. He thought they would enjoy the fireworks, but it doesn't look like they are much in favor of things that go bang-bang.”

Rebekah snaked her arm behind Lupe's shoulders so she could tug both of them closer. “I want them here.”

“Stay with Bekah.” Lupe shook her head in a vigorous nod. “No run. Stay with Bekah.”

“We have to follow the law. It's the only chance we have of getting custody in the long run.”

“Is there really a chance of that?” Rebekah tightened her hug. She wanted them to stay. She wanted to scrub Diego's face and wash his hands. She wanted to strip off those dirty clothes and help him into something clean so he could get a good night's sleep next to Caleb. “You're not family.”

“It depends on whether they find the father. If they can't, we might have a chance. But it's about what's best for them. To be with their blood relative. Or with us.”

“They wouldn't know their dad if they saw him on the street.”

“It's the best we can do. To be honest, I don't know how long it'll be before they have the hearing, and Leila and I will be moving—”

“I know. To Dallas.” Rebekah couldn't keep the accusation from her voice. Jesse had taken her sister away once. Now he would take her even farther from her family and the life she should be living. “What happens if you leave and they haven't had their hearing?”

“It will make it harder for them to stay. They need a sponsor.”

“Then you have to stay.”

“It's not that simple. The congregation has helped raise the money for my tuition and our living expenses. I'm enrolled. I can't let them down.”

“But you can let these little ones down?” That wasn't fair, but life wasn't fair. “Look at this face and tell me you can't wait until the next semester to start your new life?”

Jesse groaned and faced the front. He didn't want to think about it, but he would. He was that kind of man. A good man. “We'll play it by ear for as long as we can. God will provide. He has a plan for these children.”

“He brought them into our lives for a reason. Maybe it was to show you that your calling is here, not in Dallas.”

“Don't twist things to suit your wants and needs.” Jesse swiveled to stare at her, his glare hard. “You want Leila to stay here because us moving to Dallas is like losing her all over again. But we have to go where God calls us.”

“How do you know where that is?”

“You listen for His voice and you watch for signs.”

Rebekah pointed at the top of Diego's head with one finger. “What do you call this?”

“We have to go.” Jesse leaned out the window and waved at Wally, who stood talking to Tobias in front of the car. “Back to town, I mean.”

“They're counting on you.” Rebekah gave Lupe one last hug. The girl's sob reverberated in her ear. “I'm counting on you.”

“I won't let you down.”

He already had and he knew it.

Wally leaned into the front window. “Ready to go? You coming with us, ma'am?”

“Nee.” She found it almost impossible to release her grip
from Lupe's arm. She hugged her one more time. Lupe's thin arms held on tight. Rebekah forced herself to slide across the seat. “I'll see you soon. Very soon. Jesse is good. He'll take good care of you. I promise.”

Jesse started the engine. “I promise too.”

Only the presence of Mordecai, Mudder, and the other adults on the porch, watching, kept Rebekah from burying her head in Tobias's chest. Instead she stood within inches of him, aware with an almost-unbearable intensity of his comforting presence, watching until the taillights of both cars disappeared into the darkness.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” She turned to face him, her back to Mudder's stare. “You found them. That's gut. Very gut.”

His hand came up, then dropped to his side. “They'll be back. We'll bring them back.”

Rebekah sidled closer. “I need to talk to you. About David.”