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“Adam, keep your hands to yourself,” Sara said sharply.
“I heard—” someone else said, and a babble of voices spoke, all telling a different, wilder story.
Sara sighed. If anyone had hoped the kinner wouldn’t learn about the body at the bottom of the cliff, they’d be disappointed. The only sensible thing was to tell them the truth so they’d stop making up stories.
“Enough.” She held up her hand, and the room fell quiet. “Here is exactly what happened. On Friday, after school, I was showing Rachel’s daed the cliff, where it looks like the profile of an old man.”
Several heads nodded. They probably all knew that much.
“We saw someone lying at the bottom, and we went to see if he was hurt. Unfortunately...” She hesitated, but they already knew. “Unfortunately the man had passed from his injuries.”
“Was there a lot of blood, Teacher?” Adam said with a certain amount of relish.
“No, there was not.” She said it firmly and held his gaze for a moment, mindful of what he might likely repeat to his father. Some of the parents were bound to dislike this departure from the curriculum. Including, most likely, Caleb.
“The poor man was beyond help, so I went to Mr. Brown’s farm and asked them to call the police. The emergency squad came and took the man away. And that’s all that happened. Are there any questions?”
There were, of course, but she was able to answer them honestly without giving any gory details. Finally her scholars seemed to run out of queries.
“Now you know the facts,” Sara said. “So you don’t need to make up any stories about it.” She paused. “Do any of you have anything else to say about it?”
She let her gaze rest for a moment on Rachel. It seemed she was about to speak. But the moment passed, and Rachel joined the rest of the class in a chorus of “No, Teacher Sara.”
Sara felt oddly dissatisfied. There were too many questions as yet unanswered. Maybe they never would be. But as her scholars got back to work at last, she realized that the cheerful presence of the children was chasing any remaining shadows from her thoughts as well as her schoolroom.
It was raining when school ended, a steady gray drizzle that made Sara disinclined to rush out into it. She saw Caleb standing at the edge of the playground, waiting for his daughter.
Why hadn’t he come to the door for her? She hadn’t spoken to him since Saturday, although of course she’d seen him at worship yesterday. Maybe Caleb thought they’d gotten too close during those moments in the schoolroom on Saturday. Now he was eager to put some distance between them.
Sara settled down to grade papers, trying to dismiss the thoughts, but Caleb’s frowning face kept intruding. She sighed. Caleb was so determined that Rachel should forget the past, but obviously he couldn’t do that himself. And she suspected he was wrong in his approach to his daughter’s grief, although she didn’t think he’d want to hear it from her.
Forcing the troubling thoughts away, she set to work and had the correcting done in an hour. She glanced at the windows, startled at how dark it had become because of the thick clouds and the steady rain. She’d better head for home before Daed came looking for her.
Putting on her outer clothes, she glanced back at the schoolroom before locking the door. With the battery lamp turned off, the familiar room looked different. But not scary. Of course not. She locked up and started down the path toward home.
At least the rain was stopping now, but water still dripped from the trees, and wet branches sagged, waiting for her to walk into them. She moved quickly, hugging her jacket around her. It was only sensible to get to the warmth and light of home as soon as possible.
The path wound along the creek, where the water rushed over the stones, fed by the rain. She resolutely did not look toward the opposite side, not that she could have seen the cliff from here anyway. Still, if—
Her skin prickled. A sound, some alien noise, had disturbed her. She was as familiar with the usual sounds along the path as she was the tone of her schoolroom. She slowed, listening, trying to identify the sound. It was the faintest murmur, but it almost sounded like footsteps on the path behind her.
Sara whirled, staring, but no one was there. Ferhoodled, that was what she was, letting herself imagine things. She hurried on. She wasn’t frightened exactly. She’d walked this way almost every day since she was six. But the loneliest section of the path was just ahead of her now, where it dipped into the pine woods before coming out behind the barn.
It was always dark and silent in the pines. Shadowy even on a bright day, which this surely wasn’t. Well, if she didn’t go through the pines, she wouldn’t get home, not unless she went clear back to the school and walked home along the road.
The thought of turning and walking toward the sound she thought she’d heard made her heart quail. No, it was better to go on.
She strode into the trees, trying not to imagine things in the shadows. She was perfectly all right; in a few minutes she’d be home, and it was ridiculous to let herself be spooked.
A sound came again, from behind her and to the right—like a body pushing through the undergrowth beyond the pines. Her heart jerked, and she forced herself to turn around, to call out.
“Is someone there?” The dense shadows swallowed up her voice.
No answer. But suddenly the bushes shook as if someone was forcing his way through them. In a moment he’d step into the clear space under the pines where nothing grew. She’d see him.
No. Sara spun and ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her schoolbag thumping against her hip. Were those footsteps behind her or the thudding of her own heart? She didn’t know, and she wouldn’t stop to find out.
She ran on, letting the bag slip down so that she could grasp the strap in her hand, with some vague thought of fending off an attack. An image of a body falling from the cliff filled her mind, accelerating her fear.
And then she broke through into the cleared ground behind the barn, which glowed with a welcoming light. She raced through the door and into the comforting presence of her startled father and brother.
FIVE
Caleb didn’t stop at the end of the path as he usually did when he walked Rachel to school in the morning. The memory of her frightened cries in the middle of the night was too strong. He wouldn’t relinquish her hand until they’d reached the safety of the school.
He spotted Sara almost immediately, standing by the porch, in conversation with a man he recognized as the school board head. It didn’t look as if either of them were enjoying their talk.
Rachel tugged at his hand, apparently ready to join some of the other youngsters at the swings.
“Have a gut day.” He touched her cheek lightly, wanting to hold her tight and knowing he couldn’t. “Listen to Teacher Sara, ya?”
“I will.” She hesitated. “You’ll komm after school?”
“I’ll be here,” he promised. “Go on, run and play until the bell rings.”
When he glanced at Sara again, she was alone and looking relieved. Catching his eye, she came toward him, smiling but not, he thought, quite as blooming as usual.
“Is something wrong?” he asked bluntly when she was close enough.
“No, not at all,” she said too quickly. “How is Rachel?”
“She had another bad night.” Some things he’d rather keep to himself, but if Sara were to help Rachel, she had to know. “I tried to get her to tell me what frightened her, but she wouldn’t.” His frustration was probably obvious.
“I’m so sorry.” Distress filled Sara’s face. “I hoped...” She let that trail off.
“You talked to the kinner about what happened, Rachel says.”
Sara seemed to brace herself for his disapproval. “I felt I had to.”
“Ya, I know,” he said quickly, not liking that she expected instant criticism from him. “I understand. They’d be imagining worse if you didn’t tell them.”
Relief flooded her face. “I wish other parents understood that.”
“Giving you a hard time, are they?”
“Not all, just a few. Silas Weaver in particular.” She broke off as a buggy swung around in the lane next to them.
Her niece, little Becky, hopped down and raced off toward Rachel. Sara’s brother leaned across the seat, grinning.
“Morning, Caleb. Sara, have you seen any more bogeymen since last night?”
“Very funny, Isaac.” But he was already driving off.
Caleb studied her, alerted by the tension in Sara’s face. “What did your brother mean?”
“It was nothing.” But she rubbed her arms as if she were chilled. “I just... I went home a bit later than usual yesterday. It was such a dark day, and I thought I heard someone following me along the path.”
He frowned, sensing it was more serious than she wanted to let on. “Did you see anyone?”
“Not exactly.” She seemed to be trying to get it straight in her mind. “I thought I heard someone behind me, but when I looked, no one was there. Then when I reached the pine woods, I heard it again. I called out. No one answered, but the bushes moved as if someone was pushing through them. Isaac says I was imagining things. It must have been an animal.”
Nothing he’d seen of Sara would make him think she was easily spooked. “An animal wouldn’t sound like a person’s footsteps.”
She looked startled that he was taking it seriously. “No. But if it was a person, he had left by the time my daed and Isaac went out to look.”
“I don’t like it.” His frown deepened. “Someone could have been waiting for you to leave so he could follow you. I think I’d best have a look around outside the schoolhouse, if it’s all right with you.”
“Ya, danki.” She managed a smile. “I hadn’t thought of it, but that would make me feel safer.”
The school bell set up a clamor, shaken by one of the older boys who seemed to enjoy making as much noise as possible. The kinner came running to line up, two by two, and began walking into the schoolhouse. Sara, with a last grateful look at him, followed them inside.
Caleb waited until the school door closed behind Sara. Then he studied the building, considering. He wasn’t what anyone would call a fanciful man, but he’d sensed the fear Sara felt when she talked about her walk home the previous day. The Esch farm wasn’t all that far from the school, but the path was a lonely one, and it would have been dark and isolated under the trees.
He circled the schoolhouse with deliberate steps. For someone to follow Sara, he must have been hiding someplace out of sight, waiting for her to leave. A car parked near the Amish school would have been spotted instantly.
He scanned the ground beneath each of the windows, his skin crawling at the thought of someone peering in at Sara. But there was no sign of disturbance.
A windowless white frame storage shed stood behind the school building. The door was padlocked. No one could have lurked there. He began to feel foolish, prowling around the school this way, until he reached the rear of the storage shed.
Boot prints were plainly visible in the ground left muddy by yesterday’s rain, and the stubs of several cigarettes littered the ground. He stared, almost wishing he could disbelieve the evidence in front of his own eyes.
But he couldn’t, and he couldn’t fool himself that ignoring this would make it go away.
Moving quickly, Caleb circled the schoolhouse to the door and tapped lightly before opening it. Every head swiveled toward him.
“Teacher Sara, may I have a word?”
Sara nodded, eyes widening. She gave a few quick words of instruction to her scholars before coming to join him on the porch.
“You found something?”
“Ya. Behind the storage shed. Footprints in the mud that look like boots. Man-size, not a child’s. And cigarette butts. Someone waited there, smoking.”
Sara paled, but she didn’t lose her composure. “It couldn’t have been any of the scholars. Not even the older boys would do that.”
The sound of a motor interrupted her, and they watched as a panel truck drove up the lane. Caleb took an instinctive step in front of Sara before realizing the truck bore the name of the local hardware store.
Mitch Foster got out and regarded them quizzically for a moment. Then he headed for them.
“Something wrong? You folks are looking upset. I was just going to get some measurements for the playground equipment materials while the kids are still inside, but if this is a bad time...”
“Not exactly.” Sara looked as if she didn’t know quite what to do with the man. “Maybe later would be better.” She sent a questioning look toward Caleb.
He made a quick decision. “We found signs that a stranger has been lingering on school grounds. If you are going back to town, maybe you could stop at the police station for us?”
Foster looked startled but agreeable. “I can do better than that. I’ve got my cell phone. We’ll give the chief a call right this minute.”
It was done. Caleb couldn’t ignore the possible danger to the other kinner and to Sara, no matter how little he might want to be involved. Still, it had become too serious to pretend he could. Like it or not, he’d have to tell the police chief about Rachel’s nightmares.
* * *
Once again, Sara found herself and Caleb in consultation with Chief O’Brian—not in the schoolroom this time, but behind the storage shed, staring at the footprints. The muddy marks gave her too strong an image of someone standing there, watching the schoolhouse, waiting for her, and she edged a half step closer to Caleb’s comfortable bulk.
“No doubt someone was here for a fair amount of time,” the chief said, squatting to have a closer look. “Don’t suppose it could have been one of the older boys?” He made it a question.
Sara shook her head, grateful when Caleb took it upon himself to answer.
“A scholar that age wouldn’t dare. And there’s not one of them would wear boots that make that kind of print. Maybe when they hit rumspringa, but not at this age.”
For all his earlier reluctance, Caleb was clearly ready to take charge, and she was just as glad to let him. She’d hate to have to admit the hollow feeling it gave her to know her fears were justified.
The chief nodded, rising, and gestured for the young patrolman he’d brought with him to take pictures of the marks. Then he eased Sara and Caleb around the building.
Once they were seated on the steps of the porch, O’Brian pulled out a small notebook. “Now, Sara, I know this is upsetting. But did you get any glimpse of the man you say followed you last night?”
She shook her head. Did the way he phrased the question mean he didn’t believe her?
“Have you seen anybody hanging around?”
“There was an Englischer in the schoolhouse on Saturday, when the auction was going on.” Caleb answered again, maybe to save her embarrassment. “Sara found him. She told him to leave, but he was...” Caleb glanced at her. “He refused to leave.”
The chief cast a cautious look at Sara. “Insulted you, did he?”
She nodded, hoping she wouldn’t have to repeat the things the man had said.
“So how did you get rid of him?”
“I came in,” Caleb said.
“I see.” The chief’s glance went from Caleb’s stoic face to hers, which she felt quite sure was red. “So both of you got a look at him. Can you describe him?”
“I’d guess him to be early twenties,” Caleb said. “He had dark hair, a thin face, a couple of those tattoos on his arms.”
“He was wearing a black T-shirt,” she said. “Jeans and b-boots.” She looked quickly at Chief O’Brian. “He did have boots on.”
The chief was frowning. “In that case, I think I know who it is. Kid by the name of Sammy Moore, it sounds like.” He paused a moment. “He was a buddy of Jase Kovatch’s.”
Sara realized she was shaken but not really surprised. “They wore the same sort of clothes, ain’t so?”
Caleb nodded. “What are you going to do?” He shot the question at O’Brian. “If Sara or the kinner are in danger from this man, we need to know.”
O’Brian looked up at that. “Why the kids? Seems to me by the sound of things it’s Sara he’s interested in.”
Sara held her breath. Please, Caleb. Tell him about Rachel.
Caleb’s face was so tight it seemed the skin was stretched over the bones. “My child, Rachel, has been having nightmares about Der Alte—the cliff face. It started on Thursday night.”
Chief O’Brian’s face lost its usual smile. “According to the medical examiner, Kovatch died sometime Thursday afternoon.”
“So.” A white line formed around Caleb’s lips. “My little Rachel might have seen something that day.”
“What does she say about it?” O’Brian shifted his weight, looking uneasy, as if this turn of events upset him, as well.
“Not much,” Caleb admitted. “All I’ve been able to get out of her is that she’s afraid of Der Alte.”
“And this started before you found the body.” O’Brian sighed. “I don’t like doing it, but it sounds as if I’d better talk to her.”
“No,” Caleb said instantly, glaring at the chief.
“She probably wouldn’t open up to you,” Sara said, hoping to disarm the sudden antagonism between the men. “Rachel hasn’t been here long enough to get to know you, and her Englisch isn’t very strong yet.”
The chief looked exasperated. “What do you suggest? If the child saw something, I have to know what.”
“I think Rachel might speak to Teacher Sara,” Caleb said, and she could hear the reluctance in his voice.
“But I’ve already tried to get her to tell me what was wrong,” she protested. “I failed.”
“Ya, but that was in the schoolroom with others around.” Caleb focused entirely on her, as if this were between the two of them. “I’ve been thinking on it. If you came to the house for supper, maybe played with her a little, even helped her get ready for bed...” Pain clouded his eyes that he had to ask for help with his child, and Sara’s heart hurt for him. “That’s when she always used to talk to me.”
Chief O’Brian cleared his throat. “I’d be agreeable to that,” he said. “Teacher Sara’s as reliable as anyone I know.”
They were both looking at her, but they couldn’t know her thoughts. She’d gone to her scholars’ homes for supper plenty of times, but never to a home with a single father. Never with a man she found herself so attracted to as Caleb.
But there was no choice.
She nodded. “All right. Ya, I will do it.”
SIX
Caleb sat on the top step outside Rachel’s bedroom that evening, listening to the sounds coming from within. So far all had gone as they’d planned. Sara had arrived in time for supper, bringing with her an apple-crumb pie.
It had been the liveliest meal they’d had around the kitchen table since he and Rachel had come to Onkel Josiah’s farm. Josiah had been on his best behavior, joking with Sara and even teasing a smile from Rachel.
Afterward, Sara had insisted she and Rachel would help with the washing up. Onkel Josiah retired to his rocking chair in the living room, and Sara kept the chatter going while they washed and dried.
Now Sara was putting Rachel to bed, something Rachel had greeted with enthusiasm. He was the one who’d suggested this, so it was ferhoodled to feel left out and maybe even a little resentful of all the giggles coming from the room. But it had been a long time since he’d been able to make his daughter laugh.
By moving slightly, he could peer through the crack in the door and see them. Rachel was tucked in her bed, with Sara leaning against the headboard, arm around his daughter. She was reading a fanciful story about a piglet, and they both giggled over the pictures.
The story came to its happy ending, with the piglet home in its pen. His hands clenched on his knees. Now Sara would move toward the purpose of her visit.
“I like made-up stories about animals, don’t you?” Sara smoothed Rachel’s hair back with a gentle hand.
“Me, too.” Rachel looked confidingly up at her. “Peter Rabbit especially. Daed reads it to me.”
He’d read it so many times Rachel had it memorized, but she still wanted to hear it.
“True stories are fun, too,” Sara said. “My daadi tells stories about when he was a boy and all the mischief he got into. You know the difference between a made-up story and a true one, don’t you?”
Rachel wore a tiny frown, but she nodded.
“Like the story of Der Alte,” Sara said, her tone casual. “The kinner made that up, but he’s not real. It’s just that the rocks look like a face, that’s all.”
He could see Rachel stiffen at the mention, and it took all his strength to keep from rushing in and snatching her up in his arms.
“But he is real, Teacher Sara.” Rachel’s voice trembled. “I saw the Old Man make the other man fall.”
The words reverberated in Caleb’s mind. It was what he’d suspected all along, but it was still a blow. He should have protected his little girl, but how?
Sara held Rachel snugly against her body. “Do you mean the rocks made him fall?” Her voice expressed none of the tension she must feel.
Rachel shook her head.
“Then what?” Sara stroked her hair again. “You can tell me.”
For an instant he thought Rachel would clam up. Then she took a firm hold of Sara’s apron. “The Old Man came to life,” she whispered. “He pointed something at the other man, and the man fell over the edge.” The words came out in a rush, and she buried her face in Sara’s sleeve.
“Did the Old Man push the other man over the edge?”
Rachel shook her head, and relief took his breath away. At least she hadn’t seen a murder. This was bad enough.
“What did the Old Man look like?” Sara asked.
Rachel seemed puzzled. “I don’t know. Just like the Old Man.”
“I’ll tell you something I know for certain sure,” Sara said. “I know it was just another person up there, not Der Alte. Maybe the two of them were friends, taking a walk. Or maybe they were arguing, and the poor man just tripped and fell. But it doesn’t have anything to do with the face in the rocks.”
She said it with such confidence that Rachel looked impressed. Maybe she could accept from her teacher what she couldn’t from him.
“Are you sure?”
Sara nodded. “And I’ll tell you why I’m sure about it. Because when my brother was younger, he climbed right up those rocks one day, clear to the top. And he didn’t see anything else. Just rocks, because that’s all they are. All right?”
“If you say so, Teacher Sara.”
At first Caleb feared his daughter was just trying to say what she knew her teacher wanted to hear, but as Rachel leaned back on the pillow, he could see the relaxation in her face.
“Now I’m going to tell you a real story about the time I went to pick blackberries with my brother,” Sara said. “And you’re going to close your eyes and try to see all the things I tell you.”
Sara began a story, her voice soft, the words repetitious. The tale grew slower, her tone more gentle as Rachel slid into sleep. Finally Sara eased herself off the bed. She tucked the quilt over Rachel and bent to kiss her forehead.
The simple gesture seemed to seize his heart. He got to his feet as Sara slipped from the room.
“You heard?” she whispered.
He nodded. “We’d best go downstairs and talk about it.”
To say nothing of deciding what exactly they would tell Chief O’Brian.
* * *
Sara followed Caleb downstairs, her mind busy fitting the pieces together. He paused at the bottom, nodding to where his uncle slept in the rocking chair, newspaper draped across his lap.
In silent agreement, they moved into the kitchen. It was better to talk about what they’d learned from Rachel without an audience.
The kitchen was utilitarian, with no flowers blooming on the windowsills or colorful calendars on the walls. Even though the Amish didn’t believe in useless ornamentation, a woman usually made her kitchen a warm, cozy place through a dozen little touches. Josiah’s wife had been gone a long time now, and he wasn’t one to bother with what his house looked like.