Thomas and Joseph stood together with their backs to her, studying the weather through the front windows. From what she could see, the hail had eased up, but the thick rain gave the appearance of viewing the world through a gauzy veil.
“Pepper!” Thomas shouted. “She is out again!”
Before Rebekah could say anything, her husband bent to Thomas’s level. “Take care of Rebekah and the bopplin for me. There looks to be a lull in the storm. I will be right back.”
Sure enough, the wind and the rain had momentarily stopped, giving way to an uneasy silence. The same kind of silence that comes right before a catastrophe, like the silence that stilled all sound before lightning struck her childhood barn and almost took her life. Or during the snowfall that trapped both her and Joseph in the riverside cave along with her Englischer brother, Peter, when he first came to their Amish home, bound and determined to take Rebekah back to civilized folk. She was still grateful that Peter had consented to stay on with the Wagler family and adopt the Amish way of life himself.
Rebekah wished he was here now. Something about his presence made her feel comfortable and safe. But he was not here. He was off in Amarillo, Texas with his own wife, Katie, and their new bopplin Ruth.
Rebekah watched as her mann dashed out the door and into the yard in pursuit of their terrified horse.
No sooner had Joseph left the door than a roar sounded across the Indiana prairie. Thomas flung his hands over his ears and began to cry. Dawson released his latch and began to cry, as well.
“What in the world…” Rebekah quickly adjusted her dress to make herself presentable. Faster than she thought possible, she managed to get up, still draped in a quilt, with her infant sohn clutched to her chest. Once she made it to the window, she saw it. Against the greenish backdrop of sky, a black tongue snaked down from the clouds above, like an angry, twisting funnel.
“What is it, Sissy?” Thomas’s face, dirty and streaked with tears, searched hers for any semblance of hope or calm.
There was no time to fake tranquility. She clutched Dawson in one arm and grabbed Thomas’s hand in the other. “It is a twister, come on!”
“Where are we going?” Thomas’s voice rose quickly to a shriek. “What about Joseph? Sissy!”
Baby Dawson began to screech again, too.
“We have to take cover, now!”
Behind them, with a roar that rivaled the loudest trains in New York City, the glass in their windows burst from their panes into slivers, like seeds from a dandelion’s puff.
Once in the kitchen, Rebekah pushed her brother against the innermost wall. “Get down, Thomas,” she bellowed. Even as she shouted, she could barely hear her own voice.
With Thomas safely between her and the wall, she curled her body around his, shielding tiny Dawson between them. “Fater God, please help us, your humble and undeserving children. It is our hour of need, and we are helpless without You.”
Rebekah was not sure if she said the prayer, thought it, or perhaps even yelled it, but it was there, nonetheless.
As she prayed, the deafening commotion grew louder and louder still. Then without warning, it was gone.
Rebekah peeled herself away from the boys slowly, ever wary for any bleeding or other signs of injury. “Thomas?”
Limp, Thomas said nothing.
“Thomas!” Rebekah gave him a shake. “Are you all right?”
Sluggishly, Thomas uncurled from his fetal position. “I think so, you were smashing me though.” He massaged his neck with one hand. “You are heavy, Sissy.”
Rebekah managed a smile. “Here, help me check over the bopplin.” Her smile faded as she examined a silent baby Dawson. “He was crying a moment ago, wasn’t he?”
Her thoughts galloped in her mind, slow at first, then faster and faster. “He was crying, then I fed him. Then you screamed, then he screamed, then the twister…”
Words flew off her tongue so quickly that they all slurred together into one long, spoken thought. “Oh no, Thomas, I squished him. My bopplin, I…”
As if on cue, little Dawson yawned and stretched his arms above his head. His eyes fast closed.
“You put him to sleep,” Thomas giggled.
“Finally!” Rebekah agreed. “It only took a twister.”
The pair of them shared a nervous laugh.
“I cannot wait to tell Joseph…” Rebekah’s voice trailed off into the freshly fallen quiet. “Oh no, Joseph.”
No words were necessary as she handed the sleepy baby to Thomas. Her mind moved faster than her body as she hurried from her kitchen, through her glass-spattered living room, to the front porch. Joseph, where are you?
The balls of ice sparkled strangely as she scanned her yard. What had once been so familiar now seemed otherworldly.
Nothing in the yard.
A noise from the vicinity of the barn caught her attention. She started toward the barn and corral, with the gate closed, with a hopeful step. Pepper stepped out of the barn and into the corral, her big, brown eyes wide with worry.
He got Pepper inside, Thank you, God. He must be here somewhere.
A sickening thought gripped her mind. If the twister could blow out my windows, could it have picked up Joseph and carried him away?
Her stomach turned over on itself and hot bile surged into her throat.
Before she could evacuate her breakfast, she caught sight of it. A crumpled, out-of-place shape in the corner of the corral. Joseph’s black felt hat lay nearby.
Chapter Five
Rebekah closed the space between the crumpled figure and herself quickly. Cold stones fell into her gut when she realized she had found Joseph, lying with his back to her. A halo of thick, scarlet blood circled his head in sickening contrast to the opaque ice on which he fell.
