Martha ran down the driveway after the men. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw what was left of Dad’s shop. Pieces of wood and burning debris lay everywhere.
“Someone, run to the phone shed and call 911!” Dad shouted as he, Cleon, Abe, and Ken raced for the two hoses connected to the water faucet near his shop.
“I’ll call on my cell phone,” Ken hollered.
Martha glanced around the yard, hoping to spot the person who had done this horrible deed. Except for her family and their Thanksgiving guests, who were now all gathered on Mom and Dad’s front porch wearing stunned expressions, she saw no one in sight. Whoever had blown up Dad’s shop had taken a chance doing it in broad daylight.
Martha’s heart nearly stopped beating. No. The person responsible for this attack must have known they were having their meal at Cleon and Grace’s place.
“Oh, dear Lord,” Martha said, “how can this be happening to us?”
Grace and Ruth joined her on the lawn, but Mom remained on the porch with Sharon and the children.
“I … I can’t believe this.” Ruth’s voice quavered, and her eyes widened with obvious fear. “Must we let these attacks keep going on until someone else is hurt?”
Martha put her arm around Ruth’s waist. “Ken’s called 911. I’m sure the sheriff will be here soon. Once he finds out what’s happened, he’ll hopefully try to find out who’s responsible for blowing up Dad’s shop.”
Ray and Donna Larson dashed into the yard just then. “We heard an explosion and saw smoke and flames coming from your place!” Ray shouted. “I phoned the fire department right away!”
“My cousin phoned them, too, for all the good it will do,” Martha said with a shake of her head. “Dad’s shop is gone.”
Ray turned to Donna. “You stay here with the women. I’d better go see if I can lend Roman a hand.”
“I don’t know what Dad’s going to do without his shop,” Ruth said to no one in particular. “How’s he going to earn a living with no place to do his woodworking?”
“Maybe he’ll decide to move,” Donna spoke up. “I’d certainly encourage Ray to move if something like this happened to us.”
“Dad will never move,” Grace was quick to say.
Martha couldn’t stand there and listen to the women’s conversation any longer. She needed to see how things were going with the men. With a quick, “I’ll be back,” she sprinted down the driveway. Halfway to the shop, she heard sirens blaring in the distance. A few minutes later, two fire trucks pulled in, with Sheriff Osborn’s car and John Peterson’s rig right behind them.
The next few days went by in a blur. As upset as Roman was over losing his shop, he took comfort in knowing no one had been hurt. He’d been overwhelmed when his friends and family had rallied around, offering supplies and money so he could start up his business again. With winter around the corner, he’d decided to temporarily use one section of the barn as his shop and to rebuild in the spring. The sheriff had promised to do a thorough investigation and said he would keep a closer watch on the Hostettlers’ place.
“I hope he means it this time,” Roman mumbled as he headed for the barn on Saturday morning. The sheriff had made that promise before, but had he? No! He’d used the excuse that he was either too busy or couldn’t spare the men to patrol the area regularly. Roman had begun to think the sheriff didn’t care. But when he’d shown up on Thanksgiving Day, he’d acted genuinely concerned—even said he was thankful no one had gotten hurt.
When the attacks had first begun, Roman hadn’t wanted to involve the sheriff. He’d figured they’d been random acts by rowdy kids looking for a good time. But as the attacks continued, he’d become more concerned. Of course he hadn’t told Judith or his daughters the way he really felt. He was trying to set an example—show them how strong his faith was and that he was trusting God to protect them. Despite Roman’s resolve to remain strong, his nerves were beginning to wear, and Judith’s were, as well. Since Thanksgiving, she’d had trouble sleeping. She’d also been acting jittery as a June bug. He wondered how much more she could take.
Roman glanced at the field behind their place. The cows and horses grazed peacefully, basking in the early morning sun. A few dried-up wildflowers lined the fence, and birds chirped from the trees.
If only life could be calm and undisturbed like the scene set before me, he thought regretfully. If we could just put the past behind and forget about all the frightening things that have been done to us. He grunted. Guess that won’t happen until this horrible nightmare ends—if it ever does.
As Roman stepped into the barn, two pigeons that had been roosting in the hayloft swooped down and landed on the floor. His heart leaped into his throat, and he jumped back. Get a grip, he told himself. You can’t let every little noise set you off.
He moved to the nearest shelf, grabbed a book of matches, and lit a lantern. I just need to continue to pray and seek God’s direction.
As Rosemary stood in her driveway, saying good-bye to Ken and Sharon, a lump formed in her throat. Moving away from her only son was harder than she’d thought it would be. Even so, her place was here in Holmes County right now. Her Amish family needed her more than ever.
“I wish you’d forget about staying here and come home with us,” Ken said with a worried expression. “I’m concerned for your safety, Mom.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “The attacks have only been made on the Hostettlers, not me. Besides, I’m trusting God to protect me.”
Sharon slowly shook her head. “Look where trusting God’s gotten the Hostettlers.”
Rosemary clasped her daughter-in-law’s hand. “There are times when it seems as if God has abandoned us, but that’s when we need to draw closer to Him.”
Ken nodded as he put his arm around Rosemary. “You’re right, Mom. It won’t be easy not to worry about you, but if you’re determined to stay here, then Sharon and I will remember to pray every day—for you and for your Amish family.”
Rosemary smiled as tears clouded her vision. “I’ll be praying for you and Sharon, too.”
Ken looked over at Sharon. “If you’re ready, I guess we’d better hit the road.”
She nodded. “I’m ready.”
Rosemary gave them both another hug, and as their vehicle pulled out of her driveway, she heard a cow’s mournful moo in the distance. A sense of unease tightened her stomach. Did she really have the faith to believe everything would be all right?
Proverbs 29:25 popped into her mind: “The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the LORD shall be safe.”
She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Help us all to trust You completely, Lord.”
Luke stepped into John’s woodworking shop on Saturday morning and found John on his knees, sanding the underside of an old chair. “Hard at work already, huh?”
John looked up and smiled. “Since we didn’t work on Thursday or Friday, I thought I’d better get an early start today.”
“Which is why I’m here fifteen minutes sooner than you told me to be. I figured you’d want to make the most of our day.” Luke removed his jacket and stocking cap and hung them on the coat tree. “What would you like me to do first?”
“Why don’t you get those stained?” John motioned to a set of cabinets on the other side of the room. “There’s a new bed-and-breakfast opening in Sugarcreek in a few weeks, and they’d like the cabinets done by the first of next week.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Luke said as he got out a can of walnut stain.
They worked in silence for a time; then Luke looked over at John and said, “You’re doing a nice job on that chair.”
“Guess it comes from years of practice.”
“You’re not that old. I doubt you could have been doing woodworking all that long,” Luke said as he dipped his brush in the can of stain.
“I started working part-time for a carpenter out in Oregon when I was sixteen. By the time I’d turned eighteen, I was working full-time.” He grunted. “Of course I didn’t really have much choice, since my stepdad had died, leaving Mom and me to fend for ourselves.”
“Does your mother live in Oregon?”
“She did, but she died a few years after Harold, my stepdad, did.”
“What about your real dad? Is he still living?”
John shook his head. “He died when I was two. I don’t even remember him.” He grabbed another piece of the sandpaper and started working on the chair legs.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Nope.”
“What about grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins?”
John stood and arched his back. “Can we talk about something else? Family—or the lack of it—is not my favorite topic of conversation.”
“Sure, no problem.” Luke was surprised John had told him as much as he had. In all the time he’d been working here, John hadn’t told him much more than the fact that he was single and had no family living in the area. Hearing John’s story made Luke realize those in his Amish community weren’t the only ones who suffered hurts and disappointments. It also made him appreciate the family he had.
“Did you hear what happened at the Hostettlers’ place on Thanksgiving?” John asked.
“I spent Thursday and Friday in bed with the flu, so I haven’t heard much of anything. What happened at the Hostettlers’?”
“Roman’s shop was blown up.”
Luke’s mouth dropped open. “Are you sure about that?”
John nodded. “I saw the fire trucks speeding down the road on my way home Thanksgiving night. When they turned in at the Hostettlers’, I followed to see what had happened.”
“I thought you were going out of town and weren’t planning to be back until Friday night.”
“My plans changed, so I had Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant in New Philadelphia and headed for home soon after that.”
“And you say Roman’s shop was blown up?”
“Yep. From what I heard, they’d just finished eating their Thanksgiving meal when the big bang occurred.” John’s forehead wrinkled. “You should have seen the mess it made. There was nothing left of Roman’s shop, and he lost all his woodworking tools and everything else in that explosion.”
“That’s terrible. Was it an accident, or do they think it was another attack?”
“The sheriff and the fire marshal said they would conduct an investigation. From what I heard, it sounded like they think there was foul play involved.”
Luke slowly shook his head. “What’s Roman going to do? I mean, without his woodworking business, how’s he going to support his family?”
“I asked him about that, and he said he planned to work out of his barn until he can build another shop. I’m planning to go over there later today and give Roman a few tools. I’m sure he’ll get some help from some of the families in his community, too.”
Luke nodded. Whenever anyone in their community had a need, everyone always rallied. He just wished he felt free to offer his help, as well. Unfortunately, any help he might offer Roman would be flatly refused.
“I can’t believe the kind of luck the Hostettlers have had,” John said. “It sure seems like someone’s out to get them, doesn’t it?”
Luke nodded. I may not be able to help Roman, but I can help Martha try to figure out who’s responsible for blowing up her daed’s shop.