A Sister's Test (33 page)

H
ow did the dog auction go the other day?” Irene asked Martha as the two of them peeled apples for the pies Irene would serve to a group of tourists later in the day.

“It went well.” Martha smiled. “I got another female beagle, and I’m hoping she’ll give me lots of pups.”

“What’d you name her?” Irene’s teenage daughter, Carolyn, asked from where she stood making a fruit salad.

“She already had a name—Polly.”

“I like it. Sounds real
lebhaft
,” Irene put in.

“Polly seems to be pretty sprightly, all right. When I introduced Polly to Bo, she got so excited she knocked the poor critter to the ground.” Martha reached for another apple. As she sliced into it, the tangy aroma wafted up to her nose and made her mouth water. Apple pie was her favorite, and she hoped there would be some left over so she could have a piece.

“Guess we know who’ll be the boss in that family,” Carolyn said with a chuckle.

A knock sounded at the back door.

“I wonder who that could be.” Irene wiped her hands on a dish towel and went to answer the door. When Irene returned, Martha was shocked to see Gary Walker standing beside her.

“Wh–what are you doing here?” she squeaked.

“I heard about the Amish meals that are served here, so I came by to see if I could get an interview to put in one of the local papers.” Gary offered Martha a slanted grin and lifted his notebook and pen.

She ground her teeth together. “I thought you had moved on.”

“I did, but I missed the place so much, I decided to come back.” Gary smiled at Irene, a more genuine smile than he’d given Martha. “In fact, I’ve decided to relocate to Holmes County, and I’ve been looking for a place to live. You wouldn’t know of anything that’s available, would you?”

Irene opened her mouth as if to respond, but Martha spoke first. “Why would you want to move to Holmes County?”

“I like it here. Besides, I’ve been offered a job at the newspaper in Millersburg. I’ll be doing a regular column for them from now on, as well as some freelance stuff.”

Martha’s heart gave a lurch, and her palms grew sweaty. If Gary moved to Holmes County and he
was
the one responsible for the things that had been done to them, they could probably expect more.

Gary turned to face Irene. “Would you mind answering a few of my questions about the home-cooked meals you serve?”

“I suppose it would be all right,” she replied sweetly. “In fact, some free advertising might be good for my business.”

Gary pulled out a chair at the table and took a seat. “Is there anything in particular you’d like my readers to know?”

Ruth lay curled in a fetal position on her bedroom floor. The circle of sun shining through her window did nothing to diminish the loneliness encompassing her soul. When Ruth was a child, she used to lie in the sun, enjoying its warmth, finding it to be healing and comforting whenever she felt sad or lonely. Not anymore. Even the heat of the sun brought no healing or comfort. There seemed to be no reason for her to go on living.

She stared at the dust particles floating past her face. One. . .two. . . three. . . How many specks of dust were there, and where did they all come from?

Caw! Caw! Caw!
The persistent chatter of a crow outside her window sounded foreboding, and she shivered. Her nose twitched as she drew in a shallow breath. When was the last time the braided throw rug on which she lay had been cleaned?

She rolled onto her back. Gazing at the cracks in the ceiling, she tried to pray, but no words would come. What was the point of praying? God never answered her prayers.

A groan escaped Ruth’s lips. She needed someplace to think—somewhere to clear her head.

The floorboards squeaked as she rose to her feet, feeling as though she were in a dream. She shuffled across the room. . .one. . .two. . . three. . .four steps to the door. Her hand clasped the knob. A few more steps and she slowly descended the stairs. The house seemed so quiet. Somewhere in the distance she heard a steady
tick-tock, tick-tock
.

Dad’s taken Mom to see the chiropractor. Martha’s at Irene’s. No one needs me. I’m all alone
.

She meandered into the kitchen and leaned against the wall, stricken with grief and a longing so strong she felt as if her heart might burst.
Martin, I miss you so
.

Ruth jumped as the clang of the dinner bell beating against the side of the house rattled the kitchen window. She needed fresh air. Needed to clear her head.

She jerked open the back door and stepped onto the porch. The sun still shone, but a gust of wind whipped around her face and took her breath away.

As if her legs had a mind of their own, they led her toward the barn. She halted in front of the silo and looked up. She had climbed up there several times when she was a girl, whenever one of her sisters had dared her to do it. Ruth wasn’t afraid of heights, and the silo had seemed like a good place to sit and think. She remembered how she had enjoyed the view—gazing at the lush green pasture where the horses nibbled grass, watching the clouds drift lazily overhead, counting the cars zipping past their house.

Ruth reached up and grabbed hold of the ladder, bringing one foot up behind her and then the other. Slowly, she made her way up until she reached the opening near the peak of the silo. Turning, she took a seat on the ledge, her legs resting on the top rung of the ladder. As she stared at the vastness below, her head started to spin. What was going on? She wasn’t afraid of heights. Why the woozy feeling?

She closed her eyes, and an image of Martin flashed into her
mind. Oh, how she missed him. It had been three months since he’d been killed, but the ache in her heart hadn’t diminished. With each passing day, the bitterness toward the one who had caused the accident escalated. Forgiveness seemed an impossible feat.

Ruth’s eyelids fluttered, and hot tears dribbled down her flushed cheeks. She drew in a ragged breath and struggled against the temptation to jump.
Oh, God, I know it would be wrong to take my life, but I don’t want to live anymore. I want the pain to end. I want to be with Martin
. She gulped, and a pang of fear twisted her insides.
Help me, Lord. Show me what to do
.

As Rosemary left her rental car and started walking toward her brother’s woodworking shop, doubts filled her mind. Was she foolish for coming here again and trying to make things right between her and Roman? Would he listen to her this time? Could she make him understand the way things were? Or would he order her out of his shop again?

She sent up a silent prayer, opened the shop door, and stepped inside. Roman’s son-in-law sat at a metal desk in the center of the room, but she saw no sign of Roman.

“Is my brother here?” she asked, stepping up to the desk.

Cleon shook his head. “He took Judith to see the chiropractor this morning. As far as I know, Ruth’s the only one at home right now.”

Rosemary stared at the floor, wondering if she should leave a message for Roman, go up to the house to visit Ruth, or head back to town.

“Ruth would probably like some company,” Cleon said. “She lost her husband in a buggy accident a few months ago. She’s been sad and lonely ever since.”

Rosemary could relate to that. She’d been sad and lonely since Bob died, despite his deathbed confession that he’d intercepted all of the letters she’d written to her family over the years.

“Do you know when Roman will be back?” she asked. “I really would like to speak with him.”

Cleon shrugged. “I’m not sure. He said something about taking
Judith out to lunch and then doing some shopping before coming home. He might not be here for several hours.”

Rosemary fiddled with the strap on her purse, then turned toward the door. “I guess I will stop and see Ruth. Maybe by the time we’re done visiting, Roman and Judith will be home.”

Cleon smiled. “In case you miss Roman, I’ll be sure to tell him you were here.”

“Thanks.”

As Rosemary walked up the path toward her brother’s house, she thought about what Cleon had said concerning Ruth. No wonder the poor girl had seemed so sad and disconnected when she’d visited with her the other day.
I should have recognized the look of pain on her face. I’ve seen it often enough when I’ve looked in the mirror. Maybe I can say something to help Ruth deal with the loss she’s sustained
.

Rosemary stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door. Several seconds went by, but no one answered.

Maybe Ruth is in her room and didn’t hear my knock
.

Rosemary turned the knob and opened the door. “Hello! Is anyone home?”

No answer.

She stood below the stairs and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Ruth, are you up there?”

No response.

Maybe she’s sleeping or went out back to check on the clothes I saw hanging on the line when I arrived
.

Rosemary stepped outside and started around the house. “Hello! Is anyone here?”

No reply and no sign of Ruth.
I may as well head back to town. Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow
.

She started toward her car but stopped to watch a twittering blue jay as it pecked at seeds in a nearby feeder. A downy woodpecker swooped in just then, and the blue jay took flight. She watched it soar over the treetops, past the barn, and up toward the silo.

Rosemary blinked and shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun. It looked as though someone was sitting on the ledge near the top of the ladder. It couldn’t be. No one in their right mind would
be foolish enough to climb up there and sit on the ledge.

She tipped her head back and stared. It was a woman dressed in Amish clothes. Could it be Ruth? Had she climbed up there to—
Oh, dear God, no!

Rosemary hurried toward the silo, a sense of urgency pressing her forward. Despite her fear of heights, she dropped her purse to the ground, grabbed the side of the ladder, and started to climb.

She’d only made it halfway up when Ruth called out, “Don’t come any farther!”

Rosemary halted and looked up. “It’s me, Ruth—Aunt Rosemary.”

“Go away.”

“I’d like to speak with you.”

No response.

“Please, Ruth, come down.”

“No.”

“If you don’t come down, I’m coming up.”

When Ruth didn’t move, Rosemary began climbing again. The metallic taste of fear sprang to her mouth.
Please, God, don’t let her jump
.

By the time Rosemary reached the top rung, her hands shook so badly, she could barely hang on. “I’m afraid of heights,” she confessed. “You need to come down so we can talk.”

Ruth shook her head.

“I understand your pain. As I told you the other day, I lost my husband, too.”

“Was he murdered?”

“No. Bob died of a heart attack.”

“Did you lose your ability to have children when he died?”

“No, but—”

“I know it would be wrong to take my own life, but I—I have nothing to live for.” Ruth emitted a pathetic-sounding sob. “I want the person who rammed our buggy to pay for what he did.”

“I’m aware of what it’s like to feel anger and resentment,” Rosemary said. “I was angry with my husband when I found out he had betrayed me.”