Crash! Bam! Thump, thump, thump!
Roman sat straight up in bed and snapped on the battery-operated light. His heart pounded as he looked at his and Judith’s bedroom window. It had been shattered, and a brick lay on the floor near their dresser.
Judith bolted upright and let out an ear-piercing scream.
With no thought for the broken glass covering the floor, Roman rushed over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. The moon was hidden by clouds tonight, and the yard was shrouded in darkness.
“What is it, Roman? Do you see anyone out there?” Judith’s voice quavered, and when Roman turned to look at her, he saw tears on her cheeks.
“It’s too dark for me to see,” he said, moving back to the bed. “I’m sure whoever threw that brick isn’t hanging around so he can get caught. No doubt, the culprit’s long gone.”
“Oh, Roman,” she sobbed, “I … I don’t think I can take much more of this. I wish you c–could make it stop.”
He lowered himself to the bed and took hold of her hand. “If there was something I could do about these horrible attacks, don’t you think I would?”
Judith started rocking back and forth, holding her hands against her temples.
He touched her shoulder. “Judith, are you okay?”
No response.
“Judith, are you listening to me?”
She continued to rock, staring vacantly across the room.
Suddenly, Martha burst into the room. “Did you hear that big boom? It sounded like—” Her gaze went to the window, and then to the floor. “Did … did you see who threw that brick, Dad? Were either you or Mom hurt?”
Roman shook his head, but Judith continued to sit and rock as though in a daze.
Martha rushed over to the bed and took a seat beside her. “Mom, are you okay?”
“She’s fine; just a little shook up is all.”
Martha turned to face Roman. “Are—are you sure she’s all right? She looks like she’s in shock.”
“She was talking to me a few seconds ago. She seemed kind of shaky, but I don’t think she’s in shock.”
“Maybe Mom should lie down in bed.”
“That might be a good idea.” Roman helped Judith lie down, and he made sure her head was resting on a pillow. “Martha, why don’t you run to the kitchen and get your mamm a cup of herbal tea?”
Martha hesitated a moment, took a quick glance at her mother, and bolted from the room.
Martha entered the kitchen, lit the gas lamp hanging above the table, and put a kettle of water on the stove to heat. Then she hurried across the room, grabbed a flashlight from the top drawer, and opened the back door. Clicking on the flashlight, she shone the beam of light around the yard. No sign of anyone. Of course that didn’t mean no one was lurking in the shadows. If she hadn’t been so concerned about Mom, she would have ventured into the yard and searched for the culprit who’d thrown that brick.
I’ll never find out who’s been doing these things to us if I don’t find some clues, she fumed. But I’d better not go outside and look for them now.
Martha stepped back into the house and closed the door. She would look for some clues first thing in the morning. In the meantime, she needed to check on Mom and give her some tea.
“Where’s your mamm? I figured she’d be here making breakfast,” Dad said when he stepped into the kitchen after finishing his chores the following morning.
Martha turned from the stove, where she’d been frying bacon. “Mom’s still in bed.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s not like her to sleep so late.”
“I’m not sure she’s sleeping, Dad. I think she may still be upset over what happened last night with the brick.”
“I can understand her being upset last night,” Dad said as he washed his hands at the sink. “But I boarded up the window, cleaned up the glass, and promised to notify the sheriff, so there’s no reason for her to be lying in bed feeling naerfich.“
Martha pursed her lips. “I think Mom has every right to feel nervous. These attacks have been going on too long, and it’s enough to put anyone’s nerves on edge.”
“Which is why I agreed to notify the sheriff.”
“When do you plan to call him?”
“Sometime today, but not until I’ve had some breakfast and have checked on your mamm.”
Martha set a plate of toast on the table just as Dad took a seat. “Don’t you think you ought to call the doctor and see about getting Mom in as soon as possible?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I think she just needs a good rest. She’s been working awfully hard around here lately, you know.”
Martha released an exasperated sigh. “Mom’s not in bed because she’s tired and needs a good rest. She’s—”
He held up one hand to silence her. “If she’s not feeling better by noon, I’ll take her to the clinic in town. In the meantime, I’m going up to Grace and Cleon’s place to tell them what happened last night.”
“Dad, what’s wrong? You look like you didn’t sleep a wink last night,” Grace said when her father entered the kitchen as she was getting breakfast on the table.
He moaned and sank into a chair. “There was another attack during the night.”
“Ach, no!” Grace gasped, and Cleon reached out to grab her hand.
“What happened?” Cleon asked.
“Someone threw a brick through our bedroom window.”
“Were either of you hurt?”
Dad looked up at Grace and shook his head. “Not physically, anyway.”
“What do you mean, Dad?”
He tugged his ear. “It’s your mamm. She’s not acting like herself at all.”
“What’s wrong with Mom? How’s she acting?”
“Like she’s in some kind of daze. Won’t say a word to anyone and doesn’t seem to know where she is.”
Grace covered her mouth with the palm of her hand. “I knew it. I knew this was coming.”
Dad looked up at her and tipped his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mom’s been on edge ever since the attacks first began, but with each one that’s happened, she’s gotten worse.” Grace slowly shook her head. “I’m afraid the brick being thrown through your window might have pushed her over the edge.”
“I don’t think so.” Dad’s eyelids blinked in rapid succession. “I’m sure she’ll snap out of it soon and be back to her old self.”
“Mom hasn’t been her old self for a long time, Dad.” Grace moved over to the row of wall pegs by the back door and grabbed a sweater.
“Where are you going?” Cleon asked.
“To see Mom, of course. Can you take care of things here while I’m gone?”
Cleon looked over at Dad. “What about work? Are you planning to open the shop today?”
Dad shook his head. “No, no. I think I’d better spend the day with Judith.” He rose from his chair. “I’ll walk back to the house with Grace now, and we’ll let you know later how things are going.”
Anna spoke up for the first time. “What about Poppy? Don’t I get to see him today?”
“Not today, Anna,” Cleon said. “Your grandma Hostettler is sick, and your mamm has to look after her.”
Grace didn’t wait to hear Anna’s response. She rushed out the door with Dad behind her. Oh, dear Lord, she silently prayed, please help my mamm.
As Martha headed outside after the breakfast dishes were done, all she could think about was her mother lying in her room, refusing to get out of bed. Mom hadn’t eaten anything from the breakfast tray Martha had prepared for her, nor had she spoken a word to either Martha or Dad. Martha worried that Mom might be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“I hope Dad decides to take Mom to the doctor,” Martha muttered as she zigzagged across the yard, searching for clues that might give some indication as to who had thrown the brick into her parents’ room the night before. It wasn’t fair, this nightmare they’d been living since the first act of vandalism that had taken place over two years ago. Martha was sure if it had been some kids playing pranks it would have ended long before now. No, someone was definitely trying to get even with someone in her family. The questions remained: who and why?
As Martha made her way along the edge of the flower bed near the house, she spotted an empty beer bottle lying in the grass. Whoever threw that brick must have been drinking and dropped the beer bottle.
She was about to head into the house when something shiny sticking out of the dirt caught her eye. She bent to investigate and discovered a ballpoint pen. She didn’t recognize it as belonging to anyone in her family, but she thought she might have seen it, or at least one like it, somewhere before.
Clutching the pen tightly in her hand, she hurried back to the house to check on Mom. She’d just entered the kitchen and had slipped the pen in a drawer, when Dad showed up with Grace.
“Where’s Mom?” Grace asked with a panicked expression.
“She’s in her room, resting,” Martha replied.
Grace moved in that direction, but Martha stepped between her and the hallway door. “Why don’t we let Dad check on Mom first? That will give the two of us a chance to talk.”
Grace looked like she might argue, but she finally nodded and took a seat at the table.
Dad hurried down the hall toward his bedroom.
Martha took a seat beside Grace. “I think Mom needs to see the doctor. She’s not doing well at all.”
Grace’s head moved slowly up and down. “Dad said she won’t speak to anyone and acts like she doesn’t know where she is.”
“That’s right. She’s been like that since the brick was thrown through the window during the night.”
“Is Dad going to phone the doctor?”
Martha shrugged. “He said that if Mom wasn’t feeling better by noon, he would.”
“If she’s as bad as you say, then I don’t think we should wait that long, do you?”
“Probably not.”
Grace pushed her chair away from the table and stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Into Mom’s room to see for myself how she’s doing.” Deep wrinkles formed in Grace’s forehead. “If I think she needs to see the doctor, I’m going to insist that Dad make the phone call right now.”
Luke glanced at the clock on the far wall of John’s shop. It was after eight and still no John. Luke didn’t remember John saying the night before that he planned to run any errands this morning, but maybe something had come up at the last minute and John had decided to run into town.
“He should have called to let me know he was going to be late,” Luke mumbled as he glanced at the phone sitting on John’s desk. It had only rung once this morning, and that call had been a wrong number. “Guess I’d better get busy and find something to do, because when the boss does get here, I’m sure he won’t be too happy if he sees me standing around.”
For the next hour, Luke stayed busy staining a set of cabinets that were supposed to be finished by the end of the week. When those were done, he put the can of stain away and started sanding an antique rocking chair that had been brought into the shop the day before for restoration.
At nine thirty, the shop door opened, and John stepped into the room. “I overslept. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Figured you might call me,” Luke replied.
John’s forehead wrinkled. “How could I call if I was sleeping?” He tromped across the room and dropped into the chair at his desk with a groan. “The battery in my stupid alarm clock must have gone dead, because it never rang this morning.”
“I would have called if I’d known you’d just overslept, but I thought maybe you had run some errands in town.”
“No errands today.” John glanced across the room, where the coffeepot sat on a table. “Is there any coffee made?”
Luke nodded. “Made some first thing this morning.”
“Good. A steaming cup of hot coffee is just what I need.” John left his desk and ambled across the room, stretching his hands over his head and releasing a yawn. “I never feel right when I oversleep. It’ll probably take my brain the rest of the day to thaw out so I can get some work done.”
Luke gestured to the cabinets he’d just stained. “As you can see, I’ve got those ready to go.” He pointed to the rocking chair. “I also started on that.”
“Glad to hear it,” John said as he poured himself a cup of coffee and added three teaspoons of sugar. Luke had never figured out why John liked his coffee so sweet. He preferred his black.
“Have you heard anything from your folks lately?” John asked when he returned to his desk.
“I saw Mom from a distance in town the other day but didn’t get a chance to speak to her.”
“Do you think your folks are still mad at you?”
“I’m not sure.” Luke scrubbed his hand across his chin. “I think they’re more disappointed than anything.”
“Because you haven’t joined the Amish church?”
Luke nodded. “By the time Dad was my age, he was already married, and Mom was expecting her first baby.”
John took a swig of coffee. “How much longer do you plan to sleep in my back room?”
“Do you need me to find another place to stay? Because if you do—”
John lifted his hand. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t think it’s an ideal living arrangement.”
“I hope to have some answers soon. Then maybe I can make a decision that will give my parents some peace.”
“What kind of answers are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain things when I can.” Luke motioned to the rocking chair. “In the meantime, I’d better get back to work on that.”
John set his coffee cup down. “I’d better try to get something done myself.”