Close to Home by Emma Miller

Chapter 19

"Did your young man leave so quickly?" Aunt Viola asked as Mary hurried past her and up the staircase.

"Ya, he did," Mary answered. "And I don't think he will be back." It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears. She hadn't wanted to hurt Caleb, and she had. She shouldn't have closed the door on him like that and now she didn't know how to make it right.

"A pity," her aunt called after her. "Such a nice-looking boy. Good manners, and...the promise of a prosperous farm."

Mary pretended she hadn't heard and continued to climb the steps, past the second floor landing, up to the third floor attic and to her room. Eyes stinging, she went to the window and watched as Caleb's buggy turned onto the main road. She couldn't see the horse because of the darkness, but the blue carriage lights blinked brightly.

What had she done? What if she never found anyone she cared for as much as she cared for him? What if she ended up an old maid living in a relative's house or married to someone like Zebediah Swartzentruber? Shouldn't she have been happy that she and Caleb could have their own land to go to, rather than skimping and saving for years to buy a farm? So what if she would have to live in Virginia? There was a large Amish community there. They would become her family.

All her arguments, they were just excuses. Irrational fears that had no truth behind them.

She pressed her palm against the window screen and blinked back tears. I love him, she thought. I've always loved him. But now, because of her stubborn pride, it might be too late.

Unless... Maybe if she went to him and—

Mary instinctively leaned closer to the window as the lights of a speeding truck came up the road behind Caleb's buggy. A police car with flashing blue lights and a wailing siren followed the truck. The truck started to pass the buggy, but then must have spotted the oncoming car. A silent scream caught in Mary's throat as she heard the squeal of brakes and saw the truck strike something and then roll with a terrible shriek of grinding metal.

Caleb! Where was Caleb? The blue lights of the buggy were gone. In their place were flames and the headlights of a vehicle.

"Caleb!" Mary raced down the stairs, her heart pounding. "There's been an accident!" she shouted to her uncle. "Caleb's buggy's been hit by a truck."

"Wait!" her uncle said. "I'll hitch up the cart."

"It's quicker if I go across the field!" She ran out the back door and through the garden. Her kapp blew off, but she didn't stop to retrieve it. All she could think of was Caleb.

Mary's breath came in ragged gulps and her side ached, but she kept running. She had to get to Caleb—had to know if he was safe. "Please, God," she kept repeating.

A loose horse trailing a harness stumbled past her in the darkness—Caleb's gelding.

A state trooper strode through the blinking lights, ordering onlookers to step back, but there was no sign of Caleb, only a shattered buggy, half sunk in the deep ditch.