Amish Redemption. Patricia Davids
Читать онлайн книгу.
wants to find out what will be needed to get it ready to farm, rent out or sell. Unfortunately, it’s in much worse condition than we expected.”
That was an understatement. His father would have to invest heavily in this farm to get it in working order, and the family didn’t have that kind of money. They would need to sell it.
“From the sounds of things, it will need even more repair after the storm passes.”
He chuckled at her wry tone. “Ja. I think the good Lord may have done us a favor by tearing down the old house. I just wish He had waited until we were out of the way.”
His eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom. He could make out Mary’s white apron and the pale oval of her face framed by her black traveling bonnet. She sat down, too, pulling her child into her lap. Together, they waited side by side in the darkness. At least she seemed less afraid of him now.
The thunder continued to rumble, punctuating the sound of the wind and the steady rain. They sat in tense silence. Even the child was quiet. After a while, the thunder grew less violent but the rain continued. Was it going to storm all night? If so, he might as well find out what was left of the property and see if he could get this young mother and daughter home.
He rose to his feet. “Stay here until I’m sure it’s safe to go out.”
She stood, too, holding her little girl in her arms. “Be careful.”
He made his way to the cellar door and pushed up on it. It wouldn’t budge.
He pushed harder. It still didn’t move. Something heavy was blocking it. He worked to control the panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t be trapped. Not in such a small place. It was like being in prison all over again. His palms grew damp and his heart began to pound.
“What’s wrong?” Mary asked.
The last thing he wanted was to scare her again, but she would soon find out what was going on. He worked to keep his tone calm. There was no point in frightening her more than she already was. “Something is blocking the door. I can’t move it. Can you give me a hand?”
He sounded almost normal and was pleased with himself. If she knew differently, she didn’t let on. Having someone else to worry about was helping to keep his panic under control.
“Hannah, stay right here,” Mary said, then made her way up the steps until she was beside him. She braced her arms against the overhead door. “On three.”
She counted off and they both pushed. Nothing. It could have been nailed shut for all their efforts accomplished. He moved a step higher and braced his back against the old boards. He pushed with all his might, straining to move whatever held it. Mary pushed, too, but still the door refused to budge.
This can’t be happening.
“Help! Help, we’re down here,” she yelled, and beat on the door with her fists. He wanted to do the same.
Don’t think of yourself. Think of her. Think of her child. They need you to be calm.
He drew a steadying breath. “There isn’t anyone around to hear you. This farm has been deserted for months.”
“There must be another way out.”
He heard the rising panic in her voice. He forced himself to relax and speak casually. “There should be a staircase to the inside of the house. Hopefully, it isn’t blocked.”
“Of course. Let’s find it. I don’t want to stay down here any longer than I must. All this dust isn’t good for Hannah.”
She started to move past him, but he caught her arm. “You could get hurt stumbling around in the dark. Stay here with your daughter. I’ll go look. I’ve got a lighter, but I’m not sure how much fuel is left in it. Shout if you hear anything outside. No one will be looking for me, but your family will be looking for you, right?”
“They will, but not soon.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Maybe someone will see your buggy out there and come to investigate.”
“My buggy isn’t out there. Didn’t you see it get sucked up and carried away?”
“I didn’t. I had my eyes fixed on you.”
“No one is going to know where to look for us, are they?” Her voice trembled.
“It won’t matter once I find a way out. I’ll be back as quick as I can.” It was an assurance he didn’t really feel.
He tried to remember the layout of the building he had surveyed for his father. Although he had looked in through the windows that hadn’t been boarded over, he hadn’t ventured inside to explore thoroughly since his father was more interested in the land and its potential. Joshua didn’t remember seeing a door that might be an inside entrance to the cellar. Some older houses only had outside entrances. The most logical place for the stairs would be near the kitchen at the other end of the house.
As it continued to rain, water began pouring through cracks in the floorboards overhead. That wasn’t good. It meant a part of the house had been torn open, allowing the rain to come in. How sound was what remained? The steady rumble of thunder promised more rain. Would the saturated wood give way and finish what the tornado had started? He looked over his shoulder. “Mary, stay near the wall or in the stairwell, okay?”
“I will.”
Joshua surveyed what he could in the darkness. The cellar itself wasn’t empty. The only clear place seemed to be where they were standing. The cavernous space was piled high with odds and ends of lumber, boxes, old tires and discarded household items. His great-uncle, it seemed, had been a hoarder as well as a recluse.
Joshua had put a lighter in his pocket before leaving the farm in case he ended up camping out. It had come in handy last night and now he pulled it out, clicked it on and held it over his head. Gray cobwebs waved from every surface in the flickering light that did little to pierce the gloom. He couldn’t keep the lighter on for long before he burned his fingers, so he quickly identified a path and let the light go out.
Stepping around a pair of broken chairs, he pushed aside wooden boxes of unknown items. When his shin hit something, he flicked on the lighter again. A set of box springs blocked his way. Most of the cloth covering had rotted away. Mice had made off with more. Skirting it as best he could without stepping on the springs, he continued along the cellar wall. A set of shelves on the far side was lined with dust-covered cans, jars and crocks, but he saw no stairs. He finished the circuit and moved back toward where Mary was standing. He flicked on his light.
“Have you discovered a way out?” Her voice shook only slightly, but he saw the worry in her eyes.
They weren’t going anywhere until someone found them. He had no idea how long that might take. They could be down here for hours, days even. The thought was chilling. He stopped a few feet away from her and let the light go out. How did he tell a frightened woman she was trapped in a cellar with a man who’d spent the past six months in prison?
* * *
When Joshua didn’t answer her question, Mary’s heart sank. She knew he hadn’t found an exit. She bit her thumbnail as she considered their predicament. Her friends would be concerned when she didn’t arrive at the quilting bee, but they might assume she had stayed home to wait out the storm. When she didn’t return home this evening, Ada would become concerned, but she might think Mary had decided to spend the night at the Sutter farm. Ada might not even know about the tornado if it had formed this side of the farm.
Mary hoped that was the case. Ada had a bad heart and didn’t need such worry. It could be morning before she became concerned about them and perhaps as late as noon before she realized they were missing.
Mary’s adoptive parents, Nick and Miriam Bradley would begin looking for them as soon as their absence was noted. Miriam stopped at the farm every morning and Nick dropped by every evening on his way home from