Hannah's Courtship. Emma Miller

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      “I should go with you.”

      “No, you stay here,” Hannah told her, taking the flashlight. “Just in case she comes back and I miss her.”

      “I’ll light the lamps in the kitchen.” Rebecca went one way. Hannah another.

      The dirt farm lane was a long one, and usually Hannah was grateful that her late husband had picked a place where the house was set far back off the road. Tonight, however, she wished it were a shorter driveway. Oh, Jonas, she thought. Why aren’t you here with me? In the five years since a sudden heart attack had taken him from her, she often wished he was still here by her side, but never more so than tonight. She wasn’t a weepy woman, but if she had been, she’d be inclined to sit down in the dirt and have a good cry.

      She walked quickly, not bothering to call Susanna’s name. If she was coming up this lane, with or without the pony and cart, Hannah would have heard her. Instead, all she heard was the far-off wail of a freight train and the high chirping and deep bass croaks of early spring frogs.

      The lights of a car whizzed past Hannah’s mailbox. Not far now. The Kings’ farm was dark. As with all the Old Order Amish in their community, David’s parents didn’t have electricity. Hannah had been hoping for the gleam of a kerosene lamp through an uncurtained window, but not a single glimmer showed.

      Hannah’s anxiety increased with every step. “Susanna,” she murmured. “Where are you?” If she wasn’t at the Kings’ house and she wasn’t on the road between here and there, Hannah would have to wake her sons-in-law and maybe send Irwin to the chair shop to use the business phone. Calling the English authorities wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly. If an eight-year-old Amish child had been missing at night, it would be considered acceptable. Though Susanna might technically be twenty-one, her maturity level was closer to that of a second-grader.

      At the end of the lane, a grove of cedar trees blocked her line of vision on the right. There was no moon tonight, and even with the flashlight, it was difficult to see. Hannah had just turned onto the shoulder of the road when she saw a bobbling light a few hundred feet away. “Susanna?” she called. No answer. Hannah called again. “Susanna!” Please, God, she prayed silently. Let it be her. Let her be safe.

      Whoever it was, they were coming slowly, and Hannah couldn’t hear hoof beats or the grate of buggy wheels on the pavement. She hurried toward the light. “Susanna?”

      “Mam?”

      Relief jolted through Hannah with a physical impact. She broke into a run. “Susanna, are you all right?”

      “She’s fine!” came a reply in a deep male voice.

      “I’m fine.”

      That was Susanna’s voice, but who was with her? Hannah stopped short and aimed the flashlight toward the approaching group: Susanna, short and round, bouncing along in her flat-footed, side-to-side stride and a larger, lumbering figure behind her.

      A pickup truck approached, slowed and passed. In the glow of the headlight, Hannah saw a third person, a tall Englisher in a baseball cap leading Hannah’s black-and-white pony. No, she decided, not just any Englisher. She recognized that voice. “Albert Hartman? Is that you?” She started toward them again, not running this time, but walking fast.

      In another moment, she had her arms around a sobbing Susanna. Her daughter was trying to tell her something, but she quickly dissolved into hysterics. Because Susanna’s speech was never clear to begin with, Hannah had trouble understanding what her daughter was trying to tell her.

      “Crash,” David supplied. He was a young man of few words. “Bam,” he said. “Ina ditch.”

      Hannah gazed over Susanna’s head. “Are you hurt, David?” she asked. “What about Taffy? Is the pony—”

      “Not a scratch, so far as I can tell. It could have been a lot worse.”

      Hannah accepted Albert’s opinion without hesitation. Not only was he a longtime family friend, but he was a local veterinarian. She turned her attention back to her daughter. “Why did you go out at night?” Hannah demanded. “And what made you take Taffy?”

      “Pizza,” David said. “We wanted pizza.” He shook his head. “Mam gonna be mad at me. Ya.” He nodded his head. “Really mad.”

      “I was so worried. Come on,” Hannah urged. “Let’s get off this road before we’re all killed.” She held tight to Susanna, unwilling to let her go now that she’d found her. Adrenaline still pumped through Hannah’s veins, and she felt vaguely sick to her stomach.

      “Good idea,” Albert said.

      Together, they walked back to Hannah’s lane. Once away from the blacktop, she loosened her grip on Susanna’s arm and merely held her hand. “Albert,” Hannah said, “how did you find them? Where did you find them?”

      “Half a mile on the other side of the Kings’ place,” he said. “I was coming back from a call. A cow having twins was in a bit of trouble. Two pretty little heifers, both right as rain once we got their legs untangled and got them delivered. Anyway, I was just on my way home when I saw Jonas’s courting buggy in the ditch and these two standing there beside it.”

      “A car came,” Susanna wailed. “It scared Taffy. She jumped in the ditch.”

      “The buggy rolled over on its side,” Albert explained. “A wheel is broken, but the carriage seems okay. I was more concerned for Susanna and David.”

      “Not David’s fault,” Susanna stoutly defended. “He drove good. The car beeped and scared Taffy.”

      Hannah rolled her eyes. “David drove?”

      Susanna nodded.

      They continued to walk up the long drive. “But, Daughter, you snuck out of the house.”

      Susanna shook her head. “Ne. I didn’t.”

      “You did,” Hannah said. “Did David come to the farm and hitch Taffy to the buggy?”

      “Ya,” Susanna said, but David was shaking his head. “Hush,” Susanna ordered, shaking her finger at him. “You said!”

      Confused, Hannah glanced at Albert, who shrugged. “I couldn’t get a straight story out of them, either. They were both crying when I got there. The pony was tangled in the traces.”

      “It was God’s mercy that you found them,” Hannah said. The pony belonged to her daughter Miriam, but she stabled it at the home barn so that Rebecca and Hannah had the use of it. They were all very fond of Taffy, and the thought that the animal could have been badly injured or killed by Susanna’s carelessness made Hannah angry. “I’m disappointed in you, Susanna,” she said sharply. “Very, very disappointed.”

      Susanna hung her head. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped at them with dirty hands, but Hannah wasn’t feeling sympathetic.

      “What you did was wrong and dangerous,” Hannah chided. “You, David or Taffy could have been killed.”

      “We...we wanted pizza,” Susanna mumbled. “You never...never let us go get...get pizza.”

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