The moment Bethany opened her door Michael knew he was in trouble. Her bright smile and the eagerness in her eyes pushed at the mental wall he had erected to keep people from getting too close.
He didn’t want to shut her out. He wanted to be worthy of the friendliness she seemed so willing to share.
“You have decided to join us, after all. Come in, Michael. Please have a seat.” She stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.
He shook his head. “I’m not here to eat.”
Disappointment replaced the eagerness in her eyes. “Oh? What can I do for you, then?”
She moved back and he stepped inside. The dog squeezed in to stay at his side. Bethany frowned slightly but didn’t say anything.
The house was typical of the Amish houses he’d seen all his life. From the entryway a door to his right led directly into the kitchen. Beautiful pine cabinets lined the walls. The floor was covered with a checkerboard pattern of black-and-white linoleum. The windows had simple white pull-down shades instead of curtains. The delicious aromas of Bethany’s home-cooked meal filled the air. His stomach growled.
He resisted the urge to stay and make her smile again. “The cabin is locked. I can’t get in.”
Bethany cocked her head slightly. “Are you sure? Maybe the door is just stuck.”
“I’m sure. The back door is locked, too.”
“Why does he need in the cabin?” Ivan demanded, scowling at Michael.
Bethany gave her brother a sharp look. “Michael is going to be living there. Daadi rented the place to him. Do you know anything about the cabin being locked?”
“I don’t know why you’re asking me,” Ivan snapped. “Every time something goes wrong I get blamed.” He pushed to his feet and rushed out of the room.
Color blossomed in Bethany’s cheeks as she glanced at her guests. “I apologize for Ivan’s behavior. I thought he was doing better. Jenny, did you lock the cabin?”
Jenny shook her head, making the ribbons of her kapp dance on her shoulders. “I play there sometimes with Ivan and Jeffrey, but I didn’t lock the door.”
Bethany met Michael’s gaze but quickly looked away. “I believe there is a spare key in Grandfather’s bedroom. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go find it. It may take me a moment or two. I’m not sure where Daadi kept it.”
The dog suddenly left Michael’s side. He made a grab for her and missed. “Mutt, get back here.”
She ignored him and went to investigate the new people in the room. She gave the young Amish woman and the Englisch fellow at the table a brief sniff, then rounded the far end. Jenny had her hands out. The dog settled her head in Jenny’s lap and looked up with soulful adoring eyes as the girl scratched her behind her ears.
“What a beautiful dog.” Jenny stroked her soft fur. “I think she likes me.”
Michael walked over and took hold of a length of black nylon webbing Jesse had fashioned into a makeshift collar. “I’m afraid she hasn’t learned any manners.”
“What’s her name?” Jenny asked.
“Mutt.” He still wasn’t sure he would keep her, although she seemed to have attached herself to him. Maybe she would like Jenny better and stay here.
The slender man in Englisch clothing rose to his feet. “Mutt is not much of a name but it’s better than Cat. I’m Pastor Frank Pearson. You can call me Frank.” He swept a hand toward the young Amish woman seated across from him. “This is Bethany’s friend Gemma Lapp and you must be Michael Shetler.”
The pastor held out his hand. Meeting new people made Michael uneasy. He rubbed his sweaty palm on his pant leg before taking the man’s hand in a firm grip. “I take it you are the chess player.”
Frank’s expression brightened. “I am. Do you play?”
“Now and again.”
“We’ll have to arrange a match someday. I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet Elijah. He was a true master of the game. He told me quite a bit about you.”
Michael grew cold. “Is that so? I don’t know what he could have told you. We never met.”
The pastor’s expression didn’t change. “He said you came highly recommended by an old friend of his. I believe it was George Meyers and that you grew up near Sugarcreek in Ohio. My grandmother was from the Sugarcreek area, but she left many years ago. Please, have a seat.”
It had been a long day and Michael just wanted to get settled in a place of his own. He accepted the invitation mainly because his leg was aching.
“Would you like some kaffi?” Gemma asked.
He nodded. She rose and brought him a cup and saucer with three pale yellow cookies on the plate. “These are lemon crinkles. My specialty. I hope you like them.”
“Danki.” The coffee was black and bracing. The cookies were light, tart and delicious.
“You can’t call her Mutt,” Jenny said from the other end of the table.
“Why don’t you name her?” Gemma suggested.
Jenny peered into the dog’s eyes. “I’m going to call you Sadie Sue. Do you like that name?”
The dog barked once and everyone laughed.
“That settles it,” Michael said. “She is now and forever Sadie Sue.”
“How are the cookies?” Gemma gave Michael a smile every bit as sweet as the pastry.
“They’re delicious. They remind me of the ones my grandmother used to make.” He prayed Bethany would hurry up before he was subjected to more questions. She came back in the room a few seconds later.
“Found it.” She held the key aloft.
Michael grimaced as he stood and leaned heavily on the table. He had been sitting just long enough for his leg to stiffen. When the sharp pain subsided he picked up his cane.
“Are you all right?” Bethany asked, reaching a hand toward him.
Her sympathy irritated him. He hated when people treated him as if they expected him to topple over at any second. “I’m fine.”
“How were you injured?” Gemma asked softly.
His throat tightened. He couldn’t draw a full breath. The walls of the house started to close in. He needed to get outside. “I’ve got to get going.”
He saw the confusion in Bethany’s eyes, but nothing mattered except getting enough air. He pushed past her and went out the door. On the porch he stopped to scan the yard and outbuildings for signs of danger. Was someone lurking in the woods beyond the road? He took a step to the side and backed up to the wall of the house so that no one could get behind him. Sadie followed him out and sat at his side, nuzzling his hand. He stroked her head.
After a few deep breaths of the cold air, Michael’s panic receded. It was okay. There wasn’t any danger. He took one step away from the safety of Bethany’s house and then another, glad to escape without having her watch him fall apart.
Gemma propped her elbow on the table with her chin in her hand. “Did that seem odd to anyone else?”
Bethany had to admit Gemma was right. “He acted like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”
“I hope it wasn’t my cookies.” Gemma sat back and folded her arms across her chest.
Pastor Frank took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t think it was anything we said or did. Michael has been through a rough time.”
Bethany turned to Frank. “What do you know about him?”
“Only a few things that your grandfather shared with me. I don’t feel it’s my place to repeat what was said.”
Gemma arched one eyebrow. “Okay, now you’ve made me curious.”
Frank smiled but he shook his head. “Many people tell me things in confidence. I take that responsibility seriously. I think it’s enough to say that Michael came to New Covenant seeking privacy and a chance to heal in body and mind.”
“Is there anything we can do for him?” Bethany asked.
“We can invite him to our Thanksgiving dinner,” Gemma suggested. “He shouldn’t spend the holiday alone.”
Pastor Frank nodded. “Good idea. Treat him like you would anyone else. Be friendly, be kind, be compassionate, don’t pry. I suspect he will discover soon enough if he truly belongs here.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “One winter was enough to convince me I didn’t belong here. I don’t mind snow, but when it gets so deep you can’t see the cows standing out in it, that’s too much snow.”
Bethany chuckled. “And yet here you are facing another winter in northern Maine.”
“I can’t. What would you do without me?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Bethany admitted. Gemma was a dear friend and she would miss her terribly if she ever left New Covenant.
“Gemma, will you serve the peach pie and ice cream for me? I must speak with Ivan. His behavior tonight was not acceptable.” Bethany braced herself for a verbal battle with Ivan as she climbed the stairs to his bedroom. She knocked softly. He didn’t answer.
She opened the door and discovered he wasn’t in his room. Her conversation with him would have to wait but it would take place. He wasn’t getting out of it this easily. She checked the other rooms and the attic, knowing he sometimes liked to hide in those places, but she didn’t find him.
When Bethany came downstairs she joined the others and enjoyed a slice of pie and ice cream. When everyone was finished, Gemma began clearing the table.
Pastor Frank patted his stomach. “That was a very good meal. Invite me more often, Bethany.”
She summoned a smile. “Come anytime. I’ll feed you.”
He laughed as he rose and got ready to leave. She handed him his gloves after he finished buttoning his coat. “I’m glad you came tonight, Frank. We have missed your company.”
“I’m glad I came, too. What did Ivan have to say for himself?”
She clasped her hands together. “He wasn’t in his room. He must have slipped out the back door. What am I going to do with him?”
“He’s a troubled boy. All you can do is show him you care about him, give him the opportunity to confide in you and pray he finds the courage to tell you what’s bothering him.”
“I know he doesn’t want to be sent to live with our uncle. I had hoped learning that he only has until Christmas to mend his ways would be incentive enough.”
“Unfortunately, it may only add to the pressure he’s under.”
“Will you talk to him?”
“As a family friend or in my official capacity as a psychologist? Would your bishop approve of that?”
Bethany squeezed her fingers together tightly. She wasn’t sure but she was willing to risk more of the bishop’s disapproval. “I think he would allow it but I’m asking as a friend.”
“Then I will be happy to see Ivan. Bring him by my home any day after school this week. If he’ll come.”
“I will do that.”
He started out the door but stopped and looked back. “One more thing. Will you give a message to Michael Shetler for me?”
“Of course.”
“Tell him my door is always open if he needs someone to talk to. That’s all. Good night.”
“I’ll tell him. Good night, Frank.” Bethany closed the door behind him. What did Frank know about Michael’s past that he felt he couldn’t share with her?
Michael unlocked the front door of the cabin and stepped inside. Instantly he knew someone had been there before him. The back door was open a crack. He was sure it had been locked earlier. He crossed the room and closed the door, uneasy at the thought of someone having access. His anxiety level climbed as he thought about trying to sleep in an unsecured place. He thanked God for the dog at his side. A dead bolt and new locks for the doors were a must first thing in the morning.
The dog stayed by his side as he searched the building. Her calm attitude reassured him that the visitor was long gone. The place was neat and cozy. The cabin was a single room with a tiny kitchen in one corner. A bump out beyond the kitchen contained a modern bathroom with a shower and a propane hot water heater. Two big windows on the south wall let in plenty of evening light. A metal bed frame in the far corner held a bare mattress with a sleeping bag on it. A glance around the room gave him the impression that someone visited often. There were empty food wrappers and several magazines beside the fireplace. Perhaps Ivan and Jenny played here. He walked back to pick up his bag near the front door.
Glass shattered, startling him. Michael saw two boys through the broken window before his leg gave out and he hit the floor. Instantly, he was back in the jewelry store, in the middle of the robbery. He had to get out. He crawled toward the door and pulled it open, expecting another bullet. Someone was screaming. Sirens grew closer. Red lights flashed on the ceiling overhead. The smell of gunpowder choked him.
A dog started barking. There hadn’t been a dog there that night. He tried to concentrate on the sound. The dog was real. The rest was a nightmare, so realistic he could hear the robbers’ voices, he could see their mask-covered faces, he felt the impact of the bullet and the burning pain in his leg. He kept crawling to get away from them.
“Mister, are you okay?”
The new voice, like the barking dog, wasn’t a part of the past. Michael struggled to focus on it. Bethany’s brother was kneeling beside him. He didn’t want anybody to see him like this. “Go away.”
“I’m going to go get help.” The boy jumped to his feet and ran toward the house down the hill. Michael crawled after Ivan but couldn’t stop him.
Not Bethany. Don’t bring Bethany.
It was his last thought before the nightmare sucked him back into the past and made him relive the unbearable. He screamed in pain as a bullet shattered his thigh. He wept as his coworkers were murdered one by one. The wail of sirens grew louder. He knew he was next.
“Michael, can you hear me?”
Another voice not from the past.
“Don’t shoot,” Michael begged, but the gunshots came again and again. He jerked each time.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” The different voice was insistent. Michael tried to hold on to it. He reached out his hand. Someone took hold of it.
“It’s Pastor Frank Pearson. We just met. What’s wrong, Michael?”
“He’s killing them. He’s killing them all. Don’t shoot.”
“Michael, I want you to listen to me. You’re safe. No one is shooting. You’re in Bethany’s cabin in Maine. No one can hurt you here. You’re safe. Michael, you’re safe.”
“I’m in Maine.” Harsh panting filled his ears. He knew he was making that sound but he couldn’t stop.
“I want you to listen to my voice. No one is hurting you.”
Michael turned his head and tried to focus on the man kneeling beside him. He wanted out of this nightmare, but he didn’t know how. “Help.”
“I’m here to help you. I think you are having a flashback to something bad that happened before. It’s not happening now. It’s all in the past. Do you understand? You are safe. No one will hurt you.”
Michael had no idea how long he lay on the snowy ground listening to Pastor Frank’s voice, but slowly the cold air began penetrating the nightmare. The cold was now. The cold was the present. He took a deep breath and then another. He was looking up at darkening sky. There was a single white cloud drifting overhead. It looked like a catcher’s mitt. He heard soft whining. Turning his head slowly, he focused on Sadie Sue. She lay beside him with her head on his thigh.
Michael’s pounding heart began to slow. He laid a hand on her head. “Goot hund.”
“Are you feeling better?” Pastor Frank was still kneeling at Michael’s side.
Embarrassed that anyone had seen him like this, Michael struggled to sit up. “I’m fine.”
“I’m glad to hear that. If you would like to tell me about what happened, I will be happy to listen.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Michael struggled to get up. Pastor Frank gave him a hand and helped him to his feet.
“That’s perfectly understandable.”
Michael looked around. “Where is my cane?”
Sadie sat at his side, her wagging tail sweeping the snow from his doorstep. She leaned against him as he patted her head.
Pastor Frank located Michael’s cane inside the door and handed it to him. He smiled at the dog. “The Lord provides comfort for us in many amazing ways.”
Michael wanted nothing more than to retreat inside the cabin and lock the door. “Thanks for the help. I was fortunate I fell at your feet.”
“Actually, you didn’t. You fell at Ivan’s feet. I had just finished having supper with Gemma and Bethany. I was getting in my van when Ivan raced up and said you needed help.”
Ivan was standing a few yards away from them. His pale face and wide eyes revealed how frightened he was. Michael rubbed his hands together to warm them. “I’m sorry I scared you, Ivan.”
“You may have done more good than harm,” Frank said softly and beckoned Ivan closer. “He insists he was the one who threw a rock through your window, but I have my doubts.”
“I saw two figures,” Michael said.
Ivan approached slowly. “I thought you had been hit in the head or something. I thought you were dying.”
Michael managed a half smile. “As you can see, I’m not.”
“Why did you break the window?” Frank asked.
Ivan stared at the ground and shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do,” Frank said.
“Jeffrey and I like to hang out here. We were mad that we couldn’t use it as a meeting place anymore. I guess we thought you might not stay if the window was broken. We didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Actions have consequences,” Frank said sternly. “Your wrath served no good purpose. Before you act in anger again, you must think about this day.”
“I will. Are you going to tell Bethany about this?”
“No,” Michael said emphatically.
Frank placed a hand on Ivan’s shoulder. “You’d better go home. Your sister was looking for you.”
“To scold me again, right?”
“To talk to you about what’s really bothering you. Your sister loves you. You know that.”
“Sure, that’s why she’s sending me away.” The boy turned and walked toward the house with lagging steps.
“He’s got a chip on his shoulder,” Michael said.
“He does, but right now I’m more concerned about you.”
Michael grew uncomfortable under Frank’s intense scrutiny. “I told you I’m fine.”
“How often do you have these flashbacks?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. Why deny it? What’s important is that I know exactly what you are going through. I used to be in your shoes. I dealt with PTSD for three years before my symptoms improved. I haven’t had a flashback for five years now.”
“How?”
“How did I get better? Time and therapy. Why don’t we step inside out of the cold?”
Michael limped into the cabin. The dog followed him in and went to lie in front of the fireplace.
“I don’t have much in the way of furniture yet. I’m having some stuff shipped from home.” There was an overstuffed green leather chair by the fireplace and two straight-backed chairs that came with the cabin. Michael lowered himself into the upholstered chair and glanced at Frank. “What caused your PTSD?”
Frank turned one of the wooden chairs around and straddled it. “I served in the military right out of high school. I saw some brutal fighting and horrible situations at a very young age. I married while I was in the service. I thought I was tough. I thought I was okay but a few months after I got home I started having episodes where I relived the most frightening events I went through. I started having nightmares, panic attacks. I became moody, bitter and depressed. My wife didn’t know how to deal with me, and we divorced. Thankfully a fellow veteran recognized what was wrong with me and got me help.”
“You stopped having them?” Michael wanted desperately to believe it was possible.
“In time they went away. I found God and He changed my life. I wanted to do His work, but I also wanted to use modern medicine to help people suffering with mental health issues. I went back to school to become a psychologist and counselor, and then I became a minister. Michael, what triggered your episode today? Do you know?”
Michael shook his head. “It just came out of the blue.”
“It may seem that way but there is often a trigger associated with an episode. It can be a sensation that recalls the trauma, such as pain. Strong emotions, feeling helpless, trapped or out of control can bring on a flashback or panic attack. A trigger can be as simple as a smell, a phrase, a sound.”
Michael turned to look at the window. “The glass breaking. That’s what triggered it today.” One of the thieves had broken the glass jewelry case and triggered the alarm.
Michael gazed at Frank. “You said I can get over this.”
“Recovery is a process. It takes time and there are often setbacks. It’s important to stay positive, but yes, the majority of people with PTSD recover in time. For a few it is a lifelong battle. Therapy can help enormously. Talking about your trauma in a safe environment is a way to lessen the hold it has on you. How often do you have these flashbacks?”
“Three or four times a week. Sometimes every day. This is the first one since I arrived here. That was three days ago.”
“And how long do they last?”
“It feels like an eternity but maybe ten minutes.” Michael rubbed his thigh. It always ached worse after an episode.
Frank nodded. “And how long does it take for you to recover from one?”
“Twenty minutes or so. Will you have to tell someone about what happened today?”
“I don’t but I wish you would let me help. I have a survivors’ support group that meets every other week at my church. I invite you to check it out. You aren’t the only one dealing with a traumatic past.”
Michael shook his head. “I’d rather no one knows about this.”
Especially Bethany. It shouldn’t matter so much what she thought but it did matter.
Pastor Frank didn’t argue. “As you wish. Please let me know if I can be of help in any way. Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out. I’ve got some plywood to cover the window. I’ll be back with it in half an hour.”
“I appreciate that. And for all your help earlier.”
After Frank left, Michael set about building a fire in the fireplace. He was surprised that the ashes were still warm. Ivan or his friend had recently had a blaze going here. When Michael had a decent fire burning to drive off the chill, he sat down to wait for Pastor Frank’s return. It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door. He got up to answer it.
Ivan stood on his doorstep looking dejected. Bethany stood behind him with her hand clamped on his shoulder.
Michael tried to disguise his rising panic. What had the boy told her?