What was in that envelope?
The thought kept nagging her, like a sliver in a finger. Before Abel returned from Honor Mansion, she went to the barn and opened up his drawer. She picked up the envelope, knowing full well it was wrong, that it was wicked. But still, she opened it up and read the papers. She read and reread until her knees went weak and her heart started pounding in her ears. It was a contract from Bonnatt Construction Company with an offer for Cider Mill Farm.
My home. My orchards.
She stopped reading as a chill shivered through her. With shaking hands, she slid the papers back in the envelope. “I don’t believe it,” she murmured. “I just can’t believe Abel would betray me like that.” But even as she said the words, doubt flickered in the back of her mind like fireflies darting in the night.
That evening, she had trouble falling asleep, until a wheel clicked over in her mind. The thought made her finally relax. Even to smile. The joke was on Abel, really. She was surprised she hadn’t thought of it sooner. There was no way he could sell Cider Mill Farm.
You can’t sell what you don’t own.
On an off Sunday in late February, when church wasn’t being held, a loud roar rumbled into the driveway, so loud it sounded as if a train had arrived. Abel and Andy were in the living room and hopped up to see what the racket was. Emma stood next to Carrie by the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Abel came up behind Carrie and looked over her shoulder. “No way!” He shoved open the kitchen door and flew down the steps. A giant of a man with a big silver helmet on his head, wearing a black leather jacket, climbed off of a motorcycle.
“Abe!” the man shouted, spotting Abel as he approached, enveloping him in a bear hug. “Dude—you got a broken arm!”
Coughing from the man’s tight embrace, Abel looked back to the house and waved. “It’s Steelhead!”
Emma, Carrie, and Andy, wide-eyed, walked out on the kitchen steps.
The man pulled off his helmet, revealing a large, shiny bald head. He walked around in a circle, taking in the house and the orchards. “I feel like I just walked into a Christmas card.” Then he whirled around to face Carrie and Emma, slowly appraising the two women. He whistled. “Wow. What a babe.”
“A babe?” Abel asked, glancing back to the house. “Oh, that’s Carrie. I wrote you about her.”
“The big gal?”
“Emma?!” Abel’s eyes went wide. “A babe?”
“I like a woman with a little meat on her bones,” Steelhead said. “Man, she is one hot mama.”
Overhearing, Emma spun around in disgust and slammed the kitchen door.
At dinner that noontime, Andy’s eyes stayed fixed on the eagle tattoo on Steelhead’s right arm. When Steelhead noticed Andy’s fixation, he flexed the muscles in his arm, making it look as if the eagle was about to fly. He tore off a crusty chunk of bread, dunked it in his soup, and stuffed it in his mouth. He grinned and winked at Andy.
Carrie wondered if the tattoo would look like an expired balloon, faded and sagging, when Steelhead grew old. Emma wasn’t at all impressed by Steelhead’s tattoo, or anything else about him. Steelhead didn’t seem to notice. He would tell Abel a story or make a joke, then glance at Emma to see if she was paying attention. Emma ignored him and concentrated on her meal.
Andy was fascinated by him. “How did you get so bald?” he blurted out.
Carrie gasped, but Steelhead only grinned. “I like to think I’ve been liberated from the burden of hair,” he said, elbowing Andy.
Andy pondered that answer for a moment, then started laughing so hard he bent in the middle. Carrie started laughing too, just watching him. It felt so good to see Andy laugh again.
“So, Mr. Steelhead, what brings you to Stoney Ridge?” Yonnie asked. She seemed a little dazed by Steelhead, but so did Carrie.
“Well, I’ll tell you ma’am, Abe and I had always talked about starting our own business someday, and he didn’t seem to be coming back up to Ohio.” Steelhead slapped Abel on the back so hard he winced. “When my parole officer gave me the okay to leave the grand state of Ohio, I got to thinkin’, why not go find my little buddy and see what’s taking him so long?”
Abel bit the corner of his lip and kept his eyes on his plate.
“Is everyone finished?” Emma asked, ice in her voice.
Abel gave the signal for a silent prayer to finish the meal, then Emma hopped up and started to clear the table, banging dishes as she set them down on the counter. She was making such a racket, slamming pots and kettles, that Steelhead looked worried, as if she might start throwing things at him.
“Are you vexed with me, ma’am?” he asked her.
Emma didn’t even glance his way.
“She’s always like that,” Andy whispered to him. He twirled his finger beside his head like the spring of a clock. “A little crazy.
” “Am I talking too much for you, Miss Emma?” Steelhead asked her.Starting to fill the sink with hot water, Emma said stiffly, “Plain folks believe that needless words are a displeasure to God.”
“Oh, honestly, Emma,” Carrie said. “Steelhead is our guest.” “No, she’s absolutely right,” Steelhead said. “I’m known for making a short story long.” He laughed and stood to stretch. “And now, I’ll be on my way. I’m staying in town.” He went over to Emma and took her hand gently in his. “Thank you for the meal, Miss Emma.”
Emma’s cheeks colored, but she gave a short jerk of her head before pulling her hand out of his.
After Abel went outside with Steelhead, Carrie turned to Emma. “Why were you so rude to him?”
Emma scowled and pointed her finger at Carrie. “You should be too! He’s going to take our Abel away.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Emma.” But she looked out the window and saw the two men standing by the motorcycle, talking and laughing. Even though Abel was looking more Plain as his hair grew long, he still seemed English.
“You mark my words,” Emma said from behind her, “that kind of man can talk anybody into anything.”
Carrie rolled her eyes at Emma’s worldly wise airs.
Suddenly, Andy screamed from the other room. “Carrie! Come quick! It’s Yonnie! She’s dead!”
Carrie found Yonnie on the floor by her quilting frame, unconscious. She was breathing, but her pulse was racing. Emma shouted out the kitchen door to Abel to come quick.
“Call 911,” Steelhead said.
“Can’t,” Abel said, hovering over Yonnie. “No phone.”
“What?!” Steelhead looked around the kitchen in disbelief. “I’ll go for help. I’ll take the little dude with me.”
Before Steelhead could finish that sentence, Andy was out the door and on the back of the motorcycle. They returned a few minutes later with Veronica McCall following close behind. She walked into the kitchen like a football coach talking to his players before the big game.
“Everyone? Remain calm. I called for an ambulance,” she said, pointing to the black clothespin on her ear.
Emma and Andy stayed at the house while Abel rode in the ambulance with Yonnie. Veronica and Carrie followed behind in the car. Carrie was so distracted she didn’t even say goodbye to Steelhead. She hoped Emma wouldn’t run him off too quickly. He was an odd fellow, but there was a sweetness to him.
At the hospital, Abel, Carrie, and Veronica sat in the waiting room outside of emergency for a long while as the doctor ran tests on Yonnie, trying to determine why she was unconscious. With a captive audience, Veronica McCall thought it would be a fine time to discuss selling the property.
“Not now, Veronica,” Abel said in a warning voice, trying to cut her off.
“Why not now? We have time—”
“Not now,” he said, giving her an angry look.
A dark cloud passed over Veronica’s face. It was obvious that she didn’t like having someone tell her what to do.
Just then, the nurse came in and told them they could see Yonnie. “The doctor will be in shortly. He’s reviewing her initial test results.”
Yonnie slipped in and out of consciousness. She lay in the bed, so tiny and frail. Carrie leaned over to smooth some wispy gray strands into her prayer cap. Abel stood on the other side of her bed, holding her wrinkled hand, his face full of worry. She was the last leaf on his family tree.
Dr. Zimmerman came in through the door, reading Yonnie’s chart. When he looked up, he said, “Well, well! My favorite Amish family! My, you people seem to be in the emergency room a lot.” He pointed to Abel’s cast and asked him how it was mending.
“Too slow for my liking,” Abel said.
“That was a nasty break, Abel. Bones need time to heal.” Dr. Zimmerman turned his attention to Yonnie. He asked Abel a few questions to get Yonnie’s medical history. “She’s stable, but I’d like to admit her and run more tests.”
Veronica, Abel, and Carrie got into the elevator, trailing behind the orderlies as they pushed Yonnie’s bed to the floor where she would stay for the night. Dr. Zimmerman tagged along to answer their questions.
Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand reached in. The doors jerked open as Solomon Riehl stepped inside. His eyes scanned those in the elevator, then stopped when they landed on Carrie, as if he knew she was in the elevator. Shocked by the sight of him, Carrie felt her palms start to sweat and her heart pound, but no one else in the elevator had any idea of her discomfort.
Awkwardly, Sol sidled next to Carrie. “Carrie, how are you?” he asked her in a kind voice.
“Very well,” she answered, lifting her chin a notch.
“Good. That’s good.”
Suddenly, Veronica McCall let out a gasp. “Solomon Riehl! The pitcher for the Barnstormers!”
Veronica’s face was lit up like a firefly on a summer night. Carrie didn’t really blame her. It wasn’t so long ago that Sol had the same effect on her. Veronica rooted through her purse for a paper and pen, thrusting them at him for an autograph. Dr. Zimmerman got caught up in Veronica’s excitement and reached in his pocket for a prescription pad for Sol’s autograph.
“How do you know Carrie?” Veronica asked Sol, as he scribbled his name on her paper.
Sol turned to look straight at Carrie. “We go way back. Way, way back.”
Veronica looked from Sol, back to Carrie, then back to Sol. “Well, small world.”
Carrie inched farther away, against the wall. She kept her eyes lowered on Yonnie, but she knew that Abel was looking straight at her. That was one thing—the only thing—about Abel that reminded her of Daniel, she realized. He didn’t miss a thing.
As soon as the elevator opened, Carrie squeezed past Sol and followed the orderlies. She and Veronica waited in the hallway while Abel went into Yonnie’s room with the doctor. A nurse spotted Veronica using her cell phone and ordered her outside on the deck. “It’s freezing outside!” Veronica wailed, but the nurse insisted. She finally complied, leaving Carrie alone.
Carrie knew Sol was waiting by the elevator for such an opportune moment. As he approached her, she stiffened and crossed her arms. “You have a habit of popping up in unexpected places.”
“I’m here with the team for an autographing event in the pediatric ward,” Sol said. “A couple of the players are on the ward signing baseballs and photos and things. To cheer up the sick kids.”
“How nice,” Carrie said in a flat voice.
Sol took a step closer to her. “Carrie, we need to talk.”
She turned her head away.
“I didn’t realize Daniel had died on the same day I came to your barn with that . . . information. I’m sorry, Carrie. Until Mattie mentioned the date . . . I didn’t know . . .”
Carrie kept her eyes lowered. “You didn’t cause his death, if that’s what you mean.”
I did that
, she thought. Still, the chain of events that started by a single act astounded her.
Sol leaned in toward her. “Does that fellow mean something to you? The one dressed Plain but acts English?”
Her eyes flew up to meet his. “I suppose Mattie told you about Abel too?”
Sol nodded.
For a split second, Carrie wondered when Mattie had talked to Sol. Then she caught herself and dismissed the thought; she had no claim on Sol. “It’s not any of your concern.”
“But you
know
what he’s done, back in Ohio. Why would you be letting yourself get taken in by these kinds of guys? I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t know anything about the Millers, except for that old newspaper clipping.”
“I know enough. I know that Jacob Weaver would never have let you near them had he known what they’d done.”
“My father knew,” she said coldly.
Sol was shocked silent. He put his hands on her upper arms and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Carrie, don’t you see? We’ve been given a second chance. To get it right.”
Carrie’s brows lifted. “That’s not the way it works.”
He sighed. “One choice? One wrong choice? That’s all it comes down to?”
Carrie turned her head to the side.
He dropped his arms. “When did you get so hot hartzfich?”
So hardhearted?
His voice broke as he asked, “Did my leaving do that to you?”
Suddenly Abel stood at the open threshold of Yonnie’s door, just as Veronica joined them from the patio. They gathered around Carrie and Sol, watching them curiously. As Carrie realized she had an audience, her cheeks flamed. Sol didn’t seem to notice; he kept his gaze fixed on her.
“Is Yonnie dying?” Veronica asked Abel.
“Who’s Yonnie?” Sol whispered to Carrie.
Abel looked at Sol, annoyed. “Who
are
you? And why are you here?”
“Yonnie is Abel’s grandmother,” Veronica answered Sol. “She must be ninety if she’s a day.” She turned back to Abel. “A body can’t live forever, you know.”
Abel scowled at her. “She’s only eighty-one. And who is this guy?”
“This is Solomon Riehl, the famous baseball player.” Satisfied that she had made the proper introductions, Veronica turned to Dr. Zimmerman as he approached them. “So, is she dying?”
Abel threw his arms up in the air in a gesture of
oh, you can’t
be serious!
Even Dr. Zimmerman looked surprised by Veronica’s bluntness. “I hope not. Not on my watch, anyway.” He turned to Abel. “We’ll call you if there’s any change in her condition.”