Breath of Spring (19 page)

As February gave way to March, Annie Mae focused on her waitressing by day and on her siblings in the evenings. When she wasn’t waiting tables, she was at Miriam’s sewing shirts, pants, and dresses for the four little ones . . . riding herd on Josh and Joey so they didn’t disrupt Tom and Nazareth’s life as newlyweds . . . cooking supper with Jerusalem . . . doing a mountain of laundry with Nellie . . . watching over her shoulder, knowing Dat might return at any time. And during these activities she kept her thoughts about Adam in a tight, straight line.

Oh, but she had dreams about riding that wicked-sleek motorcycle with him, even as she kept herself so busy. But such ideas would only get them both in trouble. Hadn’t she already led Adam astray while they sat in his rig after Tom’s wedding, with her remark about how he loved it when she teased him? Such behavior wasn’t so very different from Eve’s tempting the original Adam, after all. If she were to become a responsible, sincere member of the church, she needed to stop saying such suggestive things because they only got her into the same sort of predicaments she’d fallen into with Yonnie Stoltzfus. Even so, Adam’s kiss lingered on her lips....

And of course she saw Adam nearly every morning at the Sweet Seasons. His smile betrayed his own secret thoughts as he accepted the plate that held his silver pot of tea, letting his fingers linger on hers just a moment too long. Once in awhile, when Matthias and the other fellows were at the buffet table, Adam held her gaze as though he, too, recalled that long, sweet kiss in his rig.

“How are you, Annie Mae?”

“I’m
gut
. You?”

“Crazy-busy with remodeling work. The kids doing all right?”

“Growin’ like weeds.”

“How about boxing me up something to take home? And some of your special apple pie, if you’ve got it. . . .”

Memories glimmered in Adam’s eyes as they reached the end of their typical conversations, but he didn’t ask her out again. Annie Mae figured it was just as well. She and Adam had shared important feelings in his buggy—had helped each other over some bumps in their private roads—and they had reached an
understanding
about not going any further . . . not letting that kiss lead to another. And another.

Because if Adam ever kissed her again, Annie Mae knew she’d never keep her end of the bargain. She’d be chasing after him the way she used to pursue Yonnie and Luke. Even if she had the time for flirting with Adam Wagler, he was keeping enough of a distance to send an undeniable message:
We’ve both got plenty of stuff going on right now.

And yet, as the snow melted to reveal greening grass and the spring sunshine brought buds out on the trees, Annie Mae felt restless. Was life passing her by? While she believed she’d chosen the path God intended for her, raising her younger siblings, she wasn’t yet eighteen. A difficult, lonely road stretched before her. And how long could she expect Bishop Tom and Nazareth to share their home? They didn’t say as much—and they seemed devoted to the kids—but Annie Mae suspected they yearned for time to themselves. She also wondered if Jerusalem wasn’t postponing her marriage to Vernon Gingerich so Nazareth didn’t have to deal with the kids by herself all day while Annie Mae worked at the Sweet Seasons. And that wasn’t what she’d intended at all.

Things would be so much simpler if Adam would just wake up!
she mused one afternoon while walking home after her shift at the café.
He said right out that saddlin’ myself with so much responsibility was no life for me, yet he might as well be hidin’ under that tarp with his motorcycle. Can’t he see how perfectly the pieces would fit together . . . how the kids are crazy about him, and how much easier his life would be with me keepin’ his house clean and cookin’ for him and Matthias . . . ?

But those ideas implied marriage, and Annie Mae didn’t see that happening. She got so caught up in her glum thoughts, walking along the road with her head down, that she had no idea about the car trailing slowly behind her—until the horn honked.

Annie Mae gasped, turning. Yonnie Stoltzfus lounged in the driver’s seat of his shiny blue car, his arm draped over the passenger seat. The convertible top was down and he was watching her with hooded eyes that told her exactly what was on his mind. She walked faster, saying nothing.

“You’ve got no call to be stuck-up, Annie Mae.”

Her pulse raced. She lengthened her strides, wishing Bishop Tom’s house wasn’t another quarter of a mile down the road. Out here, between the Brenneman place and the Hostetler lane, Tom’s Holsteins munched on the lush grass, watching her with their placid brown eyes . . . which was no help at all, if Yonnie kept badgering her.

“It’s a great day for a ride, sweet thing,” he called out as he rolled slowly alongside her. “Thought you’d enjoy some fresh air and sunshine after slaving in the restaurant all day.”

Annie Mae hugged herself, almost jogging now. She wasn’t good at climbing pasture fences. Didn’t want to contend with the top row of barbed wire to get away from the road....

“Hey!” Yonnie said more insistently. “Cat got your tongue? Or has Wagler been Frenching you so much that—”

“Stop it!” Annie Mae blurted. “Shut up and leave me alone!”

The car screeched to a halt. Yonnie raced around in front of her, scowling as he blocked her path. “That’s no way to talk to me when I’m trying to be friendly.”

“If you’re my friend, you’ve got a funny way of showin’ it,” Annie Mae blurted. She tried to get around him, but Yonnie grabbed her by the shoulders so hard she yelped.

“Get in the car. We need to talk.”

“Let
go
of me! You’re hurting—”

“Oh, this is
nothing
.” Yonnie gripped her forearms and brought her face within inches of his. His pale green eyes narrowed and his ragged breathing fanned her face. “You can either get in my car, or I’ll
put
you there.”

“No! Leave me—” Annie Mae shrieked when Yonnie quickly slipped his arm beneath her bottom and lifted her effortlessly. She kicked and flailed at him, slapping his face. “Put me down! You’ve got no call to—”

“Stupid move, slapping me,” he grunted as he dropped her into the passenger seat. “I was gonna go easy on you, but now I’m mad.”

Before Annie Mae knew what else to do, Yonnie hopped into his idling car, lowered the doors, and then took off with a squeal of his tires. Bishop Tom’s cows raised their heads at the loud noise. Annie Mae desperately wanted to wave her arms at Nazareth and Jerusalem, who were planting vegetables in the garden, but Yonnie would surely do something even meaner to her if she tried that. The familiar countryside passed in a blur and soon they were turning off the pavement, down the gravel road out by the Kanagy farm.

Clinging to the door, Annie Mae muffled her sobs as the wind whipped her face. Even if she had nerve enough to hurl herself out of the fast-moving car, she would surely break some bones—and Yonnie would either leave her to suffer, or he’d toss her back into the car without regard for her injuries. Neither option was good.

What can I do, Lord?
she prayed desperately.
Ya gotta help me—please!

Yonnie turned a corner so fast, she screamed as gravel went flying. Then she squinted through her tears. Was that a big blue wagon up ahead?

Yonnie cursed and wheeled around in the road, nearly going into the ditch to complete the turn. As he roared off in a different direction, Annie Mae began to cry harder. That wagon had to belong to Adam, and if he’d seen her in Yonnie’s fancy car he would surely believe she was out joyriding.

She closed her eyes and faced forward. Doubled over in the seat to stifle her sobs in her apron. She had a feeling Yonnie was taking her to Higher Ground for whatever
talking
he’d had in mind. Was Dat in on this conversation, too, having his employee do the legwork?

“No need to hide from Wagler, like last time,” her driver derided her. “Where we’re going, he won’t follow, if he’s smart. And even if he does, he’ll not want anything more to do with you.”

Annie Mae’s heart sank into her churning stomach. What on Earth did Yonnie mean by
that?
Maybe he was just scaring her into submission....

When he pulled the car to a sharp halt a few minutes later, Annie Mae sat up warily. They were indeed in Higher Ground. Yonnie had driven up the hill and pulled in beside the biggest house in town. Annie Mae’s heart hammered and she felt like throwing up, but vomiting in Yonnie’s car would only make him angrier.

When her
dat
stepped out the side door of the house, his mocking expression told her that he and Yonnie had plotted this all out . . . that they’d cooked up a nasty plan, knowing when she would be walking between the Sweet Seasons and Bishop Tom’s house. Delilah came out behind him, her arms folded smugly across her chest. It looked as though Judgment Day had arrived.

“We have some issues to discuss, young lady,” her father said in an ominous tone. His dark eyes glittered in the afternoon sunlight. “Since you haven’t seen fit to return your brothers and Sara to their rightful home—and you haven’t begged my forgiveness for the way you defied me in Willow Ridge—your reckoning is at hand. I hope you’re prepared to do penance.”

Adam lumbered down the road toward home as fast as Jerry could haul his wagon. There was no mistaking whom he’d seen riding in Yonnie’s distinctive blue sports car, yet even as he urged his horse faster, he tried to sort out his thoughts. He’d believed Annie Mae when she’d sworn she wanted nothing more to do with that Mennonite troublemaker—not only to him, but in front of everyone at church. Was she in trouble, being driven away from Willow Ridge against her will? Or was she playing him for a fool?

If something happens to Annie Mae because you tried to second-guess what’s going on, you’ll never forgive yourself
. But his Belgian wasn’t built for speed, and as his cumbersome wagon clattered down the road, Adam felt keenly aware of the minutes ticking away. The fact that Stoltzfus had spun in a complete circle and raced off in the opposite direction told the tale, didn’t it? If Yonnie would’ve been showing off his passenger, for pride and spite, he would’ve raced past Adam’s wagon, throwing gravel while trying to spook Jerry.

But Yonnie had turned tail. So he was surely up to no good . . . and this, coupled with the way everyone still wondered when Hiram would wreak his revenge and reclaim his kids, agitated Adam all the more. Even if he got to the barn and saddled a faster horse, he could only assume that flashy blue car was heading toward Higher Ground . . . and by the time he arrived wherever Yonnie had taken Annie Mae, she could be in bad trouble.

But he had to try. If all things worked out as a part of God’s will, it was no mistake that he’d caught sight of Annie Mae in Yonnie’s car . . . and he was the only other person out on those back roads at that particular moment.

As his house and the outbuildings came into sight, Adam wavered. It only made sense, timewise, to hop on the motorcycle—but would it get him to Higher Ground? He’d started the engine a couple of times but still hadn’t taken it for a test run . . . had pondered if it was the right thing to do, going against the
Ordnung,
which forbade him to operate a motor vehicle.

What if this is an emergency? It’s only a sin to ride that cycle
—
you could confess and be forgiven. But if Annie Mae’s life is on the line, no amount of confessing will bring her back . . . you’ll be just as much to blame for whatever befalls her as you were for
Mamm
’s death
.

Was he overreacting? Surely Yonnie wasn’t fool enough to endanger Annie Mae’s life . . . but what if something went wrong? What if Hiram was also involved, and his quest for vengeance got out of hand? Hiram wasn’t known for moderation, and now that Yonnie was on his payroll, Annie Mae was outnumbered and outmanned.

Adam pulled Jerry to a halt in front of his brother’s harness shop, which sat out by the road. “Matthias!” he hollered as he hurried inside the white frame structure. “Call Officer McClatchey—or the sheriff—or Ben—or Bishop Tom. Or all of them.”

Matthias looked up from the length of black leather harness he was cutting on his worktable. “And what’s got the bee up
your
butt?”

“Stoltzfus is taking Annie Mae to Higher Ground—”

“Didn’t I warn ya that she’d—”

“Don’t mess with me!” Adam countered vehemently. “For once, just do as I’ve asked, all right? If I’m riding off into some sort of disaster, I’d like to think you’ve got my back. Unhitch Jerry, too, okay?”

Adam didn’t wait for an answer. Once outside, he slapped his Belgian’s tawny rump and urged him up the drive, jogging alongside the huge horse as it hauled his wagon off the road. “You wait here for Matthias, fella,” he murmured when they reached the shady side of the barn. Then he sprinted inside it, past the troughs and stalls.

As he yanked the tarp away from the motorcycle, his pulse thundered. Once again he heard the shriek of Mamm’s horse . . . saw the extended cab pickup plow into her buggy as she flew out of the seat and onto the road.

Adam grabbed the black helmet and put it on . . . straddled the black leather seat with its silver studs, and rammed his foot down on the kickstarter lever.
Ride with me, Lord, and then I promise I’ll sell this thing and follow the rules,
he prayed.
Just this once . . . because it’s Annie Mae. . . .

Out of the barn he rolled, restraining his urge to gun the engine until he was well past Jerry and Herbert and the other horses. The cycle rumbled beneath him, a sleek black panther bunching its muscles to spring out of the driveway. Adam sucked in a deep breath. It was one thing to get past his memories of Mamm’s accident, and another thing altogether to ride this machine after nearly six years of keeping it under wraps. Would he remember how to balance as he went around the corners? Or would he spin out on the loose gravel and fling himself off the bike before he even approached Higher Ground?