FALL FROM GRACE
By Marta Perry
Chapter One
Sara Esch smiled as her young scholars burst out into the
autumn sunshine at the end of another school day. Even the
best of Amish students couldn't help showing a bit of
enthusiasm when freedom arrived at three each weekday
afternoon, especially on Friday.
All except one, it seemed. Seven-year-old Rachel King hung
back, her small face solemn, as if reluctant to leave her desk.
Sara tried not to let concern show in her expression as she
approached the motherless child. Rachel had been in Sara's
one-room school for less than a month, since she and her
father arrived in Beaver Run, coming to Pennsylvania from
Indiana. That meant Sara didn't know Rachel as well as she
did most of the kinder in her school.
Sara knelt next to the child and spoke softly, knowing her
words would be masked by the chatter of the two eighth-grade
girls whose turn it was to wash the chalkboards.
"Was ist letz, Rachel?" She asked the question in dialect.
She always spoke Englisch in school, but the familiar tongue
of home and family might put the child at ease. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Rachel's round blue eyes grew rounder still, as
if surprised that her teacher had noticed. "Nothing is
wrong, Teacher Sara."
Sara sat back on her heels, studying the small face. Rachel
might have been any young Amish girl, with her blue eyes,
rosy cheeks, and blonde hair. Her plain blue dress and black
apron were like those of every other little girl. But
something was different about Rachel King, of that Sara was
certain sure.
She took the child's hands in hers. "You can tell me if
anything is troubling you, Rachel. I want you to be happy
here in Beaver Run."
Rachel's lips trembled, as if she were on the verge of
speech. Then she looked over Sara's shoulder, and her
expression lightened.
"Daadi!" She ran to the man who filled the school doorway.
So. Sara got slowly to her feet, mindful of Caleb King's
gaze on her. His arrival meant she wouldn't hear anything
more from Rachel today, anyway. But least she could see
that Rachel's problem, whatever it was, wasn't with her
father. She would hate to have to deal with such an issue.
She took a step toward Caleb, smiling, and stopped when she
encountered an icy glare. His face was set in severe lines
above the warm chestnut of his beard, and Caleb's gaze
seemed an accusation. Her heart gave an uncomfortable thump.
Caleb patted his daughter's head. "Go out and play on the
swings. I need to talk to Teacher Sara."
Sara caught a swift flare of panic in the child's face at
the prospect of going outside. She moved toward them.
"Perhaps Rachel could help with washing the boards," she
suggested. "We might step out onto the porch to talk."
Caleb's gray-blue eyes grew steely with annoyance, probably
at her interference, but he nodded. He stepped back and held
the door open like a command.
Sara pushed Rachel gently toward the chalkboard. "Lily and
Lovina, you'll like to have Rachel help you for a bit, ain't
so?"
Lily looked a tad mulish at the prospect, but gentle Lovina
seemed to take the situation in and smiled, holding out her
hand to the child.
"Ja, komm, Rachel."
The little girl ran toward her happily enough. Satisfied,
Sara stepped through the door, very aware of Caleb's looming
presence behind her. He had a complaint, it seemed.
The door clicked shut.
"What has happened at school to bring my child home so upset
she could not even eat her supper?" Caleb didn't give Sara
time to turn around before he threw the words at her. "And
to give her nightmares as well? I don't expect this at an
Amish school."
Stiffening at the implication she was at fault, Sara made an
effort to keep her expression calm as she faced the man. "I
noticed that Rachel seemed upset today. I was just trying to
get her to tell me what was wrong when you came in."
And whatever it is, I am not to blame, she added
silently. Nothing was more important to her than her
scholars—they were the only kinder she was ever likely
to have.
"You didn't scold her for anything yesterday?" Caleb didn't
look mollified. "Or let another child bully her?"
"Certainly not. Bullying is not tolerated in my classroom."
She took a deep breath, reminding herself not to let the
man's antagonism rouse her temper. Even teachers in Amish
schools had to learn to deal with troublesome parents. "I
am as puzzled as you are. Maybe together we can figure out
how to handle this problem."
She met his gaze steadily, and after what seemed a very long
moment she had the satisfaction of seeing some of his
antagonism fade.
"Sorry. I didn't mean...ach, I was worried ."
Caleb seemed to realize belatedly that he still wore his
black hat. He took it off, revealing hair the same chestnut
as his beard. His face was lean and austere seen close-up,
and there were fine lines around his cool eyes. He was a
widower, so the rumors ran, his wife having died after a
long illness. It was natural that he'd be protective of his
only child. But not natural at all that he should
immediately assume she was at fault.
Sara gathered her scattered wits to concentrate on the
problem at hand. "I thought Rachel seemed a little reluctant
to leave school yesterday. That's why I made sure the Miller
children walked along with her. She didn't give you any idea
of what was troubling her?"
Caleb shook his head, worry deepening the lines in his face.
"When I heard her crying in the night, she sounded so
afraid. The only thing she said made no sense. She said
der alt would get her."
"The old man?" Relief swept through Sara. "So that's it."
"What's it?" Caleb demanded, his fists clenching. "Who is
this old man who frightened my child?"
"Ach, it's not real." She put her hand on his arm in an
automatic gesture of reassurance and felt taut muscle
beneath the fabric of his coat. She pulled her hand away as
if she'd touched something hot, realizing she was probably
blushing. She'd treated him as she would one of her
brothers, but he was a stranger, despite being Amish.
"Komm." She moved quickly off the schoolhouse porch, just as
glad to turn her back on him. "I'll show you."
The schoolhouse sat in the fertile Beaver Creek valley,
Amish farms stretching out on either side, while in front of
the schoolhouse the long lane led to the paved county road
that entered the town of Beaver Creek a bit over a mile east.
Sara turned away from the road, heading across the
playground behind the school. Here the ground sloped down to
the creek for which the valley was named.
On the other side of the creek the wooded ridge went sharply
upward, seeming to lean over the valley protectively. No
year-round houses had been built there, but the ridge was
dotted with hunting cabins that would be busy during deer
season.
"Where are you going?" Caleb's long strides kept up with
hers. "Are you going to answer me about this old man? Does
he live back here?"
"In a way." She raised her arm to point. "See that rocky
outcropping? Watch what happens when we move just a little
farther."
A few steps took them to the spot where the rocky cliff
suddenly took on a different aspect, its sharp edges forming
what a child's imagination might see as the profile of an
old man.
A quick glance at Caleb's face showed that he understood.
"Der Alt," she said. "The kinder call it that. I forgot that
you wouldn't know."
Caleb stared at the rocky profile, frowning. "Ja, I see. But
I don't understand what there is about it to frighten her so."
"Nor I." Her voice firmed. "But I mean to find out. If one
of the older scholars has been telling scary stories to the
young ones, that is not—" She broke off, her gaze
arrested by something dark at the base of the cliff face.
"Look there. That...that almost looks like—"
"A person." Caleb finished for her. "Someone is lying there."
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