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Authors: Wanda E. Brunstetter

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Romance, #Contemporary

A Sister's Hope (37 page)

BOOK: A Sister's Hope
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“Not physically. The worst part was how Mom reacted to it. She was so upset that she didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. Except for a couple of words, she wouldn’t say much to Dad, Grace, or me, either.”

Ruth covered her mouth with her hand as she struggled to control her emotions. “How’s Mom doing now?” she asked.

“Well, Dad called Aunt Rosemary this afternoon, and we took Mom to see the doctor.”

“What’d the doctor have to say?”

“He thinks Mom’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

“Ach, no!”

Martha nodded. “The doctor wanted to put Mom in the hospital, but Dad said no to that idea. So the doctor gave Mom a prescription for something to help her relax and said she needed to rest.”

Ruth jumped up from her chair. “I’d better go over there now and see how she’s doing. Maybe she needs my help. Maybe—”

Martha put a restraining hand on Ruth’s arm. “She’s already in bed. There’s nothing you can do right now except pray.”

Ruth swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Has the sheriff been notified?”

“Jah. Aunt Rosemary went to see him while Dad, Mom, and I were at the doctor’s.”

“Is the sheriff going to come out and check for evidence?”

Martha shrugged. “I don’t know about that, but I did find a couple of things on my own when I was looking around outside this morning.”

“What’d you find?”

“There was a ballpoint pen lying in the flower bed, and not far from it was a beer bottle.”

“A beer bottle?”

Martha nodded.

“Gideon fell on a beer bottle this morning. That’s how he cut his leg.” Ruth rocked back and forth in her chair as she mulled things over. “You don’t suppose—”

“That the beer bottle Gideon fell on was left by the same person who dropped a beer bottle at our place?” Martha said, finishing Ruth’s sentence.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Ruth bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood. “I wonder if the person who threw the brick
into Mom and Dad’s window came over here last night with the intent of doing the same thing but got scared off by Winkie. I did hear the dog barking once during the night.”

Martha shrugged. “I suppose that’s possible, but I’m wondering why none of my dogs barked last night. If they’d heard an intruder, I’m sure they would have been howling like crazy.”

“I think Abe needs to know about this,” Ruth said as she moved toward the door. “He’s in the living room, rocking Molly to sleep.”

“It’ll be dark soon, so I’d best be getting home,” Martha said. “I’ll say hello to the kinner and be on my way.”

“Tell Dad I’ll be over to see Mom in the morning,” Ruth called over her shoulder.

On an impulse after John had closed his shop for the day, Luke decided to go for a ride in his truck. It had been a long, busy day, and he needed to relax—needed to get out of the small room in the back of John’s shop where he’d been staying at night since he’d moved out of his folks’ house.

Maybe I’ll drive over to Walnut Creek and see what’s doin’,
Luke told himself as he started down the road in that direction.

He’d only gone a little ways when he spotted Martha riding her bike along the shoulder of the road. He pulled over behind her and tooted his horn.

Martha stopped the bike and got off.

Luke turned off the engine and hopped out of the truck. He swallowed hard when he saw how flushed Martha’s cheeks were. Several strands of dark hair had escaped her kapp, no doubt from the wind. It was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms and kissing those rosy cheeks.

“Where’re you headed?” he asked.

“I just came from Ruth and Abe’s place, and now I’m headed home. I’m really glad to see you, Luke. We need to—”

“You’re losin’ daylight,” Luke interrupted. He looked up at the darkening sky. “It’s not good for you to be out on the road alone.” He
motioned to the back of his truck. “Why don’t you let me put your bike in there and give you a lift home?”

Martha hesitated as she glanced around kind of nervouslike. Was she worried someone they knew might drive by and see her talking to him? Probably so, he decided, since she didn’t want her dad to know they’d been seeing each other. Luke was on the verge of telling her to forget the offer of a ride and suggesting he follow behind her bike in his truck, when she said, “I’d be happy for a ride home. It’ll give us a chance to talk.”

Luke lifted the bike with ease and set it in the back of his pickup. “Aren’t you worried what your daed will think when I bring you home?” he asked as Martha opened the door and climbed into the passenger’s seat.

“I figured you could drop me and my bike off at the end of our driveway. That way, Dad will be none the wiser.”

“Guess that makes good sense.” Luke skirted around to the driver’s seat and started up the truck. Before he pulled onto the road, he turned to Martha and said, “I’ve got to tell you, though, I’m getting tired of sneaking around in order to see you. Every time we want to see each other, we have to meet some place in secret.” He thumped the steering wheel with his knuckles. “It’s not right that a fellow in love has to sneak around to see his
aldi
.”

Martha’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. “Did you mean what you just said?”

“What? That I’m sick of sneaking around in order to see you?”

She shook her head. “The part about being in love and me being your girlfriend.”

Luke reached across the seat and took hold of her hand. “It’s true, Martha. I’m in love with you.”

She sat there several seconds, staring at his fingers, intertwined with hers. “I. . .I love you, too, Luke, but I don’t know if I can ever truly be your aldi.”

“Because of your daed?”

She nodded. “If we could just find out who’s behind the attacks—”

Luke stopped her words with a kiss. Her favorable response made
him wish all the more that he had the right to court her.

“Oh, Luke,” she murmured, pulling slowly away, “I’m afraid things will never be the way we want them to be. You see, what I wanted you to know is that there’s been another attack, and even though I found some evidence, I still don’t know who threw the brick.”

Luke squinted as he studied her face. “What are you talking about? What evidence? What brick?”

“Last night, someone threw a brick through my folks’ bedroom window. No one was hurt, but it left Mom really shaken.” Martha paused to take in a quick breath. “This morning, I was looking around the place for evidence, and I found a ballpoint pen and a beer bottle that I believe the attacker must have dropped. The pen came from the Farmstead Restaurant, so whoever dropped it probably has eaten there.”

“What’d you do with the evidence?”

“I threw the beer bottle out and put the pen in a kitchen drawer.”

“Did your daed call the sheriff?”

“My aunt Rosemary spoke to the sheriff while Dad and I sat with Mom at the doctor’s.”

Luke’s brows furrowed. “What was she doing at the doctor’s?”

“This morning, Mom wouldn’t respond to Dad or me, so we knew she needed to see the doctor.”

Luke sat silently, trying to digest all that Martha had said. “What did the doctor say about your mamm?”

“He thinks she might be having a nervous breakdown, so he prescribed some medicine to calm her down and said she needed to rest.” Martha squeezed Luke’s fingers. “I’m afraid if the attacks don’t stop soon, Mom might get worse and never fully recover.”

Luke groaned as he leaned against his seat. “Your mamm’s mental condition is one more reason why we need to find out who’s behind the attacks. I don’t know about you, but I plan to step up my investigation.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“I don’t know, but when I come up with a sensible plan, I’ll let you know.”

Martha drew in her bottom lip. “What if we never find out who’s doing these horrible things to my family? What if—”

Luke put one finger against her lips. “ ‘With God, all things are possible.’ Isn’t that what the Bible says?”

She nodded slowly. “It’s hard to hope and have the faith to believe when things keep going from bad to worse.”

“Don’t give up,” he said as he pulled onto the road. “Maybe by the time we meet again, I’ll have come up with a better plan.”

T
he following morning, Roman looked out the kitchen window and spotted Sheriff Osborn’s car pulling in. As the sheriff stepped onto the porch, Roman went to open the door.

“Your sister came by my office yesterday and said someone had thrown a brick through your bedroom window,” the sheriff said.

“Took you long enough to get here,” Roman mumbled.

The sheriff stiffened. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Jah, well, I don’t see how you’re ever going to find out who’s responsible for the attacks that have been done here if you don’t keep a closer watch on our place.” Roman grunted. “Doesn’t make much sense for us to notify you when something happens if you don’t care enough to check things out right away.”

“It’s not that I don’t care. If you’ll recall, you haven’t always notified me right away.”

“That may be true, but you were notified this time, and you don’t show up until today.”

The sheriff cleared his throat a few times and raised himself to his full height. “I’m a busy man, and I don’t have time to stand around here all day debating the issue with you. I came to see if I could find any evidence, and that’s what I plan to do.” He moved toward the porch steps. “You want to show me exactly which window the brick came through?”

“Jah, sure.” Roman followed the sheriff down the steps, and they walked across the grass. “That’s the one.” Roman pointed to the first
floor window he’d patched with a piece of plywood.

“I’ll take a look around out here in the yard,” the sheriff said. “There might be some footprints showing or some other evidence that could help me find out who threw that brick.”

Roman stood off to one side as Sheriff Osborn studied the lawn and the ground beneath the bedroom window. After several minutes of looking, the sheriff shook his head and said, “No footprints in the flower beds, and it would be hard to spot any in the grass unless there was snow on the ground. Don’t see anything lying around that might give me any clues, either.” He glanced at the house. “Mind if I have a word with your wife?”

Roman shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

“Why not?”

“Judith’s asleep in our room right now.”

“I can come by later this afternoon.”

“No, I. . .I don’t think Judith will be up to talking to you at all.” Roman rubbed the back of his head. “You see, Judith kind of went into shock after the brick flew through the window, and I had to take her to the doctor’s yesterday.”

The sheriff nodded. “Yes, your sister mentioned that.”

“The doctor gave Judith some medicine to take—something to calm her nerves and allow her to sleep.” Roman continued to rub the spot on the back of his head. “Even if she was feeling up to talking to you today, she wouldn’t have anything more to say than I’ve already told you.”

“How about your daughter, Martha? Was she at home when this happened?”

Roman nodded.

“Is she here now?”

He nodded again.

“Mind if I speak with her?”

Roman moved toward the house. “I’ll get her now.”

BOOK: A Sister's Hope
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