Unbreakable (12 page)

“Yes. You went to school out in the world for a couple of years.”

“That's right. And Lizzie lived in Kansas City for five years.”

I frowned at him. “I don't understand. What is it you want to know?”

He paused for a moment as if trying to gather his thoughts. “As I listened to everyone this afternoon I realized that the only people in the room who hadn't been away from Kingdom at one time or another were you, Sophie, and Roger. Of course, Roger never lived here, and Sophie is only seventeen. As an elder, I hear people talk about leaving for a variety of reasons. And some of them do.” He turned his head to look at me. “But not you. Not once. Why?”

I looked at him in surprise. “It never occurred to me, I guess. Kingdom is my home and the only place I want to be.”

“Even though bad things have happened to us?”

“Nothing will ever break my commitment to Kingdom. And it isn't because I'm afraid of the world. I'm not.” I sighed. “I can't really explain it, but I know I'm where I'm supposed to be. I don't have any desire to live anywhere else, because my heart is in Kingdom—and it always will be.”

“I feel the same way, and so does Lizzie. Kingdom is a very special place. I really do want to protect it.”

“I know that. It's hard to know what to do, but in the end, we must trust God and make sure we are true to our hearts.”

He smiled at me. “Exactly. And thanks for understanding why I couldn't get involved in Jonathon and Roger's plan.”

We left our discussion about faith and moved on to more mundane topics. Noah explained the work that was going on in the house and what it would look like when completed. We also talked about the expansion of the electric company to Kingdom. Many of our citizens were availing themselves of the new opportunity. Each request for electricity had to pass through the elders first for approval, but most requests were being granted, especially for the farmers who lived outside of town. Two residents who had dairies were given permission as well. If the recent transformation hadn't happened in our church, I was certain no one would be the recipient of this once-shunned prospect. I wondered if Papa would ever agree to sign up for it. Our quilt shop got so cold in the winter, even with the potbellied stove we used to provide warmth. And in the heat of summer, it could be stifling.

When we finally arrived in Washington, Noah dropped me
off at Flo's while he went to the building supply store to pick up his order. Flo had my fabric under the counter, waiting for my return. We visited while I waited for Noah. Most of our conversation centered on Avery's death.

“When I heard that someone in a buggy had been killed,” Flo said, “my heart almost stopped in my chest. I was so afraid it was you.”

I reassured her that I wouldn't be out on the road by myself again until the men behind the attacks were caught. By the time Noah came back to pick me up, she had calmed down considerably.

We started back to Kingdom a little later than we'd planned because Noah's order wasn't quite ready at the supply store. I hoped Papa wasn't worried. Although I'd purposely tried to not think about the wisdom of going to Washington with Noah, on the way home I began to worry about the consequences. The idea that anyone would be concerned about our being alone in Noah's truck seemed ludicrous, but I had no desire to cause trouble for Noah. Had I pushed to get my way without thinking it out first? Though Lizzie, Noah, and I had no problem with our decision, that didn't mean everyone else would feel the same way. Would the move toward grace in our church cover us, or would we be chastised for breaking the rules? I really had no way of knowing, but a tickle of fear began to wriggle its way around inside me. I'd just decided to discuss the situation with Noah when I heard the sound of another vehicle coming up behind us. I checked the side mirror, and a feeling of horror made my current concerns seem unimportant. Behind us, and drawing closer, was a large red truck.

“Noah, I think that's the truck
that tried to run me off the road.” I fought to keep my voice even, but it shook, betraying my fear.

“Hold on, Hope,” Noah said loudly, trying to be heard above the red truck's loud engine. “I'm going to try to outrun him.”

I grabbed the handle over the passenger door and braced myself with the other hand on the dashboard. Noah pushed on the accelerator and we sped up, our tires spinning on the gravel beneath us. I kept my eyes peeled on the mirror outside my window. The red truck caught up to us quickly. We were still several miles from the turnoff to Kingdom, but even if we could make it there, would we be able to take the road home? Wouldn't we lead the man behind us right to our town? I glanced over at Noah, wondering if I should say something, but the look on his face choked back my words. His attention was fully focused on getting us out of harm's way, and I knew I needed to be quiet and let him concentrate.

As we sped down the road, I began to pray softly for God's
protection. The words from Isaiah came back to me. “‘No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.'” I began to speak the verse over and over in a low voice. After a couple of times, Noah began to say it with me, although I could barely hear him over the roar of two engines racing down the road, both of us going faster than we should.

Before we could put enough distance between us and the red truck, another truck sped past us. Although I didn't know a lot about trucks and automobiles, I could read a speedometer. I looked at ours. Noah was going almost seventy miles an hour. The new truck, older and black, had to be going at least eighty. I tried to see inside the cab as it went by, but just like the red truck, the windows were heavily tinted. All I could see was the shadow of a man at the wheel. I couldn't make out his features.

He drove ahead of us and then suddenly slowed down, whipped his truck around, and blocked the road. Noah slammed on his brakes, but the gravel beneath our wheels caused us to skid and we spun around, finally coming to a stop a few feet from the black truck. Noah and I watched our mirrors as the red truck slowly approached us from behind, effectively blocking us in.

“I should have pulled out into the field,” Noah said in a low voice.

“We could have gotten stuck in the ditch.” I reached out and put my hand on his arm. “You did everything you could. This isn't your fault.”

Noah pushed a button and locked our doors.

The red and black trucks sat with engines idling. No one got out.

I stared at Noah. “What can we do?”

He didn't answer me, but I saw that his eyes were glued on the rearview mirror. A quick look told me he wasn't staring at the truck parked behind us. He was focusing on his hunting rifle in the rack behind the back seat. I wanted to tell him to forget about his gun. That grabbing it was wrong. But I couldn't force the words out. If the men in the truck came after us, what would happen? What would they do? Would they beat us? Kill us? Was I in danger of an even worse outcome? The fear inside me rose like a growing flame, threatening to overshadow everything else. Even my faith. I began to whisper, “‘No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper. No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper'” over and over.

“Get down, Hope,” Noah growled. “And stay down.” He'd just turned to reach for the rifle when a high-pitched sound split the air. We both froze. A siren. The drivers of the trucks obviously heard it too. The truck in front of us backed up, turned around, and took off, and the red truck raced its engine. It was an angry sound, making it clear its owner was frustrated that his plans had been interrupted. But like the black truck, he backed up and then sped around us, following his friend the other way.

The dust they left behind shielded them from our sight. I tried desperately to get a glimpse of their license plates, but not only did the dust hide them, the red truck's plate was smeared with mud in what I perceived was a deliberate
attempt to conceal the numbers. Even still, as they roared away, a feeling of relief washed over me, combining with the fear that still held me in its grasp. I began to shake uncontrollably.

“We're all right, Noah,” I said, blinking back tears. “We're all right.”

He didn't respond, just sat there staring into the rearview mirror. A few seconds later, a patrol car pulled up behind us. I turned around to see Sheriff Ford climb out. He strolled over to our truck but had to knock on Noah's window twice before he rolled it down. Noah's face was ashen, and I wondered if he was in shock.

“You two okay?” Ford said. “Truck broke down?”

Noah shook his head. “We didn't break down. Two trucks forced us to a stop. Probably the same people who killed Avery.”

Ford frowned and stared at me. “You both look fine to me. If someone was out to get you, why ain't you both a little worse for wear?”

“Are you serious?” I said, emotion making my voice higher than normal. “Do you think we're making this up? We were threatened, Sheriff. If it hadn't been for you, we might be dead.”

He shook his head, his basset-hound jowls jiggling. “Didn't see nobody botherin' you, girlie. You sure 'bout this?”

I'd had enough with the sheriff, and my patience was about as thin as it could get. “If you didn't see the men who stopped us,” I snapped, “why in the world were you speeding down the road with your siren on?” I tried to control the anger in my voice, but it seemed to take over. At least I'd stopped shaking. I lost the battle to control my tears, but they weren't tears of fear. They were tears of rage.

“You need to settle down, little lady,” the sheriff growled. “I got a call that someone was broke down on the road. That's why I came out to check. Since I can hear your engine, I think you need to move on. Go back to that little town of yours and stay there. It ain't a good idea for any of you Mennies to be out here.”

“Why would you say that, Sheriff?” Noah said, seeming to finally find his voice. “I mean, if there's nothing to worry about, why should we stay in town?”

“I didn't say there wasn't nothin' to worry about, young man. I just said I didn't see anyone out here botherin' you right now. Don't mean there won't be in the future.”

I glared at him. “May I ask you one question, Sheriff? Who called to report we were stranded? The only people we've seen out here are the men who chased us. Not one other car passed us. Not one.”

He scowled at me. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Rage boiled up inside me. “Yes, sir. I'm calling you a liar.”

The sheriff's eyes widened and he walked away from Noah's window, came around the front of the truck, and knocked on my window. For a brief second I considered leaving the window up, but I rolled it down.

“You listen to me, you little troublemaker. Did it occur to you that there are farms out here?” He pointed to a farmhouse set back from the road, not far from where we were. “I never said the call came from a vehicle, did I?”

I didn't like being confronted by the rude sheriff, but I had no answer for him. He was right. There were actually two houses nearby. Someone from either one of them could have called. Something else suddenly occurred to me. I swallowed
hard, trying to find the courage to push the sheriff's buttons just a little more. “Maybe . . . maybe you could talk to whoever called. I mean, they might have seen the trucks. Might help you to believe our story. Maybe they'll even recognize the vehicles.”

His eyes narrowed and a vein in his temple began to throb. For some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off that vein.

“You take the cake, young lady. What's your name?”

“H-Hope.”

“Well, Hope, I intend to do just that. Why don't you two get goin' and let me do my job.” He stuck his finger in my face. “And I don't wanna see either one of you for a while. You understand me?”

I wanted to argue, but I felt like a wrung-out dishrag. Frankly, the only thing on my mind was getting back to Kingdom. Noah and I nodded simultaneously, and I was reminded of the funny little bobblehead dog Flo kept on the counter in her shop. She liked to flick its head because it always made me laugh. But today I didn't feel like laughing.

Sheriff Ford shot us both one more threatening look and walked back to his patrol car. He got in, started his engine, and then sat there, just like the man in the red truck had.

“I think he's waiting for us to go,” I said to Noah.

He put his truck in gear and started slowly down the road. I glanced back at Sheriff Ford's car, but he didn't move.

“If you're wondering if he's really going to talk to anyone about what happened, I wouldn't get your hopes up,” Noah said.

His expression concerned me, and I studied his face carefully. “Are you all right?” I asked finally. “I know that was
frightening, but shouldn't you be relieved we're okay? God protected us, Noah. We're safe.” I noticed that his knuckles were white as he grasped the steering wheel.

He was silent for several seconds. When he finally began to speak, it was almost as if each word caused him pain. “When it mattered, Hope, when I had the choice to choose God or to choose my gun, I almost chose my gun. How am I going to be able to live with that?” He shook his head. “I may have to step down as an elder. I'm not worthy of the position.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. “That's ridiculous, Noah. You're a wonderful elder. Our lives were in danger. And besides, you
didn't
pick up your rifle. Even though you thought about it, you didn't. Please don't make a rash decision based on what
might
have happened. Our church needs you.” I reached over and touched his arm. “I need you, Noah. Anytime I have a question or a problem, I know you'll lead me in the right direction.”

He shook off my hand. “I didn't lead you in the right direction today, did I? I should never have taken you with me. It was wrong, and I knew it. My rebellious nature almost cost you your life.”

Tears stung my eyes. “But that wasn't your fault. I talked you into—”

“That's enough,” he snapped. “I don't want to talk about this right now.”

I wiped my face with my apron. “Please, Noah. Please pray about this before you do anything.”

He turned toward me, and his expression softened. “Don't cry. I'm sorry. I'll pray about it, I promise. Let's not discuss it now. Please. I need to think.”

I didn't respond, just nodded. We drove back to Kingdom in silence. I dreaded telling Papa what had happened. I almost asked Noah if we could keep it to ourselves, but I knew he would never agree. It was important for everyone to know that traveling the road outside of Kingdom truly wasn't safe. Even in cars and trucks.

When we got back, Noah pulled up in front of the restaurant. I could see an old green truck parked in front of the quilt shop. I wondered if it belonged to Herman Hightower, Berlene's husband. Sure enough, the front door of the shop swung open, and Papa and Herman emerged. Papa kept his eyes on me even though he spoke to Herman for a while before he climbed into his truck and drove away.

Noah got out, came around, and opened my door without a word. He headed toward the restaurant while I waited for Papa to reach me. He didn't look happy.

“Where have you been, Hope?” he asked immediately.

“Noah took me to Washington, Papa.” I held out the sack of fabric I'd picked up from Flo. “I forgot this the other day. It's for the quilt I'm making for Lizzie and—”

Papa held up his hand, and I stopped talking. This wasn't going to be easy.

“I know we talked about you making your own decisions, but this was not a good one. I know nothing inappropriate happened between you and Noah. Nor would it. But you must remember that Noah is an elder. He must keep a spotless reputation. You should have waited to go to Washington. Your lack of patience may have caused Noah a great deal of harm.”

I wanted to defend myself, but I couldn't. I hung my head.
“You're right. And that isn't the worst part, Papa. Something happened out on the road.”

Papa's already disturbed expression darkened as I told him about the trucks that had confronted us and what Noah had said about leaving his position with the church. When I finished, he shook his head.

“I am grateful to God that you are safe.” He pointed his finger at me, exactly the way Sheriff Ford had done. I was beginning to get tired of fingers in my face. “This is the second time your life has been in danger, and I will not allow it anymore.”

“I have no intention of leaving town again,” I said. “You don't need to worry about me. I'm perfectly happy being home, where it's safe.”

The creases in Papa's face relaxed, and he reached over to gently pat my face. “I am happy to hear that. Just make sure you follow through.” He stared over at the entrance to the restaurant. “I am concerned about Noah. To think that he would walk away from his eldership troubles me greatly.”

“He respects you so much, Papa. Maybe you could talk to him?”

He nodded. “Yes, I will do that.”

“Please, Papa. And before he has a chance to do something he'll regret.”

“I will speak to him tonight.” He studied me. “Are you hungry?”

Although I hadn't been thinking about food, I realized I was ravenous. “Very hungry.”

“Then let us have supper at the restaurant. It will give me a chance to speak to Noah.”

I nodded. “You haven't said anything about your visit with Berlene and Herman. Is everything all right?”

“I would not say everything is all right, Daughter. My visit with Herman and Berlene was . . . interesting though. We have a lot to talk about. Herman and Berlene have no desire to leave their lives in Summerfield, so they will not be able to run Avery's store.” He shook his head and stared down at the ground. I didn't say anything, just waited for him to finish as I wondered what that could possibly have to do with us. “They want to sell the store to me, Hope. But that would mean we would have to close the quilt shop.”