Chapter Twenty-One

Emma was exhausted when she went to bed but was awakened by movement in the room. She lay stock-still, barely breathing. The smell of tobacco wafted through the room, and a tall figure fell into the bed next to her. She knew Caleb wouldn’t let in anyone but Monique, so she sat up and tried to see with the dull light that shone through the dingy window pane.

“Monique?” Emma’s voice was just above a whisper.

The dark silhouette didn’t move. “What?”

Emma jerked, surprised at the sound of Monique’s voice, rough and gravelly. “How are you?”

“Humph.” She grunted.

Emma sat up. “I’m worried about you.” She slid off the bed and moved toward her. Understanding the truth of what Monique had been through gave Emma newfound empathy for her.

“Don’t be.” She rolled over and lay on her back.

“Can I turn on a light?” Emma didn’t want to pry but couldn’t stand by and pretend nothing was wrong, either. After seeing Abe in action, she wouldn’t put anything past him. She never would have realized who he was if Caleb hadn’t told her. It wasn’t just his appearance. His eyes were cold and unfeeling, unlike Caleb’s, which showed every feeling in his heart. The shock of Abe being the man who stalked Monique was stuck in her mind. She couldn’t get her head around the change in him. He’d always been a troublemaker, but this was so far over that line, she couldn’t see the end of it.

“I don’t care,” Monique mumbled.

Emma was about to flip on the light when Monique sat up. “Don’t. I like the dark.”

“Are you okay?” Emma could hear in Monique’s voice that she wasn’t, so she flipped the switch, only long enough to see for herself that she was okay. The one lightbulb shone against the darkness. Emma squinted just long enough to see a bruise. The dark color of her skin made it hard to see.

“I told you not to.” Monique squealed at Emma and covered her eyes with her hands.

Emma turned off the light. “I’m sorry, I just knew something was wrong and I want to help.”

After a long pause, she heard Monique sigh. “Did your boyfriend tell you about me?”

“Caleb is a friend.”

“Whatever you say.” She lay back down with a groan.

Doubt raced through Emma. Monique was obviously in pain, but she didn’t know how to help her. Even if she did, Monique probably wouldn’t cooperate. No matter how many times this happened to a person, it had to be embarrassing or maybe it was more frustration. She could only imagine how Monique was feeling. “Can I do anything for you?”

“I just need some sleep.” She took in a sharp breath.

Emma went to the door and slowly opened it. “Caleb.”

He stood. Dark bags under his eyes showed his fatigue. “How’s it going in there?”

“I need some bread, hot milk, pepper, and a bowl.”

“Go back in and lock the door. I’ll be right back.” Caleb hurried to the stairs as she closed the door behind her. When he knocked a few minutes later, she opened the door and took the items he brought.

He lingered in the doorway. “Monique, I’m going to turn on the light.”

There were so many street and car lights outside, it wasn’t a total shock when Caleb flipped the switch, but Monique complained again all the same.

Emma ignored Monique’s mumbled cursing and got busy making a poultice with the milk, pepper, and bread. She kneaded the ingredients together, adding bits of milk to the bread until she had a pasty substance. Monique, with no idea what Emma was doing, made repulsing noises when she saw what Emma was making.

“That’s disgusting. I’m not eating that.” She wrinkled her nose and turned away.

“It’s not for eating.”

Caleb grinned. “This is a poultice.”

“Your mamm made it too, jah?” Emma smiled, enjoying a memory of something at home.

Caleb smiled as he watched her, and she thought he may have suppressed an emotional response. His lips tightened, and his head was down as if to hide his face. “It doesn’t taste good, but it sure does the trick on wounds.”

“Let’s see how it works for you, Monique.” Emma offered a small amount to Monique. She slowly reached forward toward a bluish mark on Monique’s arm.

Monique frowned and pulled away. “What is this, voodoo?”

“Nee. It’s a home remedy. I’ve used it many times. It usually helps.” Emma looked into her eyes, and Monique stared back.

A few seconds ticked by before she finally nodded.

“It smells funny,” she said as Emma applied the gummy substance to her bruise and a small open wound. “What does it do?”

“Draws out the pain in those scratches, keeps it from getting infected. It’s harder to move a bruise along. It heals in its own time, but this will help a little.” Emma examined her work and glanced at Monique. “The cuts are small, so they should heal quickly.” She paused and looked away. Monique seemed to do better when she didn’t look her in the eyes when she asked her questions. “What are they from?”

“A scratch.”

“From Abe?”

Monique sat up straight. “No, from my pet cat.” Her voice rose with annoyance. She tried to cross her arms over her chest—a gesture Emma had seen her do before when she got angry—but winced when she touched a sore spot. “You say his name like you know him.”

“I do.” Emma began to clean up, avoiding eye contact.

Monique’s eyes squinted. “‘Course you did. You’re from the same farm?”

“The same community, jah.”

“He ever your boy?” Monique grinned a little, but not in a kind way, and looked at Caleb, as if she wanted to make trouble.

“Nee.”

Monique looked at Caleb and then back to Emma. “Caleb was.”

Emma’s cheeks warmed as she finished cleaning up. “Leave it on as long as you can stand it. It tightens as it dries.” She didn’t look at Caleb when she handed him the bowl. “Danke, Caleb.”

“Thank you for helping Monique.”

She felt his eyes on her but didn’t look up until he turned away.

When she glanced at Monique, she was smiling. “He’s a good guy—puts up with me and every other messed-up person around here.”

“You’re not messed up, Monique.”

She grunted. “Then what am I?”

“Alone.” Emma didn’t know where the word came from but thought it was all that was needed at the moment.

“I ain’t alone. You’re standing right here.” She scowled.

“People aren’t enough.”

“You got that right,” Monique scoffed.

“Even good people.”

Monique’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s left?”

“Christ.” Emma had so many verses memorized and speeches to say, but all that was coming out were one or two words. When she started to panic, a cool calm surrounded her. She waited.

“Don’t know Him. Don’t want to, neither.”

“Why?”

“I’m what people call a lost soul. Not all good and righteous like you Amish folk who are on the right side of God.”

There it was—what she’d worried about. How could she explain herself to someone who saw her in that light? Her life was so different than Monique’s, and her faith had been grounded at a young age. Gott was surprising her with this conversation, so she took in a breath and let Him work through her. “Being born into it has made me question it.”

Monique blinked. “What do you mean?”

“If you don’t make it your own, it’s not for Gott. It’s for others.”

“I see that every time these Amish kids come around every spring. Ones like you don’t usually talk this way though.”

“Ones like me.” Emma thought about the words. She’d always been considered a strong Christian in her community. Being here made it easy to think that was true. But Gott was pushing her to live it and show it to others. For the first time in her life she had to explain who she was in her faith, not just say she had one.

“There’s ones like you all over here every year. They try to help the wild Amish. They’re the ones who usually go home crying.” Monique lifted her brows in confirmation, and Emma believed it. She was exactly what Monique was talking about. No wonder Mark resented her, being the “good” older sister, there to keep him from sinning.

Caleb walked in. “Everyone all right in here?” When he saw Emma’s face, he stared.

“I open my mouth too much,” Monique confessed.

“It’s okay. I was talking to Caleb about it the other day.” She could see that Gott was preparing her back then and probably long before that. Emma had to do it His way, not her own. She heard the lines in her head that she’d prepared to say, and shook her head. “Thank you, Monique.”

Monique frowned, always suspicious. “For what?”

“Helping me see myself from the outside in.”

Monique turned her head to the side, absorbing what Emma said. “I don’t know what I did. You’re kinda freaking me out.”

Emma shook her head, unfamiliar with her words, but figured out enough to know it was a joke. “I have a lot to learn.”

She meant that in many ways. The people, the culture, the purpose, but most of all, what Gott wanted her to do here. It was obviously much different than what she had planned. It scared her and excited her at the same time.

This trip has been a journey into the unknown from the beginning. Why would that change now?