“You okay?” He rubbed his forehead.

  “What was that?” she said through panting breaths.

  He almost said his head, but he knew she meant the noise outside. “I’m pretty sure that was the roof.” He’d worked in construction and easily recognized the flailing sound of distressed roofing tin. More flapping noise carried into the distance.

  “Ach.” Her gasps feathered his face with warm air.

  Assuming the roof was gone, the walls would collapse next, but he couldn’t tell her that. At the rapid rate she breathed, he expected any moment for her to faint from hyperventilating. The full impact of the storm hadn’t even hit yet. But as his thoughts rambled, the structure gave off a high-pitched screech as boards pulled away from their nails. Daylight seeped through the cracks where a moment ago it was dark.

  “Get down!” he yelled.

  It seemed as though time stood still before the howling wind passed. When it did, an unnatural silence loomed.

  “Is it over?” A child’s frail voice broke the silence.

  “I . . .” The woman cleared her throat. “I think we’re safe nau, children.”

  Children? He’d only seen one running with her for cover.

  More whimpers came from the opposite direction. Seth shifted his eyes, but without more light than what penetrated through the cracks, he couldn’t decipher anything but shadows in the dark.

  “How many children do you have?” His thoughts escaped aloud.

  “Twelve,” she replied. Then added, “Is everyone all right?”

  The children might have thought she sounded composed, but he heard the tremor in her voice. He sat quietly and listened as the children’s faint responses rang out.

  A small hand tapped his arm. “Where did you kumm from, mister?”

  “Mary, don’t be so bold,” the woman corrected.

  “I’m sorry,” said the child in a weakened voice.

  “I’m Seth Stutzman.” His hands gritty, he wiped the dirt on his pant leg. “I’m from the Saint Joseph County settlement in Centreville.” With his district 135 miles south of Hope Falls, he didn’t expect the child to know where he was from, but he said his district for the woman’s benefit.

  “Seth from Centreville, would you mind opening the door for us?”

  Good idea. He lunged off the dirt floor, banging his head on the overhead beam.

  “What was that?” asked one child.

  “Only me.” He rubbed the sore spot.

  “Are you okay?”

  Hearing the woman’s motherly concern, he smiled. “Jah, at least we know one beam is intact. My thick head didn’t seem to shift the structure any.”

  “That’s a blessing,” she said.

  “Having a thick head?”

  Several children laughed, and the woman hushed them immediately.

  “I meant the sound structure is a blessing,” she clarified, her voice a mix of authority and jitters.

  He chuckled as he moved cautiously to the door. Maybe his thick head would figure out a way out of here. He patted the wooden door, searching in the dark for the handle. Gripping it firmly, he nudged the door with his shoulder. It didn’t open. He tried again, using more force. Still, the door wouldn’t release. “It’s jammed.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. It must be latched,” the woman said.

  “Nay. I heard something slam against it just after I entered.” The noise was loud enough that she should’ve heard the same racket outside the door. Then again, firsthand experience had taught him how fear paralyzed one’s senses.

  “Are we going to have to stay in here forever?” a small voice squeaked. Several of the children sniffled.

  He wasn’t thinking straight. He should’ve held his last comment and not riled the children.

  “We’ll be rescued soon.” The woman’s soothing voice settled most of the whimpering.

  Seth rammed the door harder and vibrations rippled throughout his body. The hinges rattled, but the door wouldn’t give. Whatever had struck the door during the storm was solid and somehow had lodged itself against the entry. He drew a deep breath. As a builder, he’d belly-crawled through several narrow crawl spaces and never felt claustrophobic, but now, trapped with a woman and her frightened children, he expected the walls to close in.

  “I’m hungry,” one child said.

  “Me too,” another one added.

  The woman shushed the children as he barreled his shoulder against the door again. The force dislodged debris from overhead, causing an echo of shrill cries in the darkness behind him. He readied for another shove, but a hand grasped his arm and he stopped.

  “Are you sure forcing the door open is safe?” the woman whispered.

  “Do you have a better idea, Mrs. . . . ?”

  “Katie.” She dropped her hand from his arm. “And nay, I don’t have a better idea.”

  He plowed his weight against the door once again. This time the structure groaned. Beside him Katie let out a similar noise under her breath. He peered up at the new pinholes of light. What was he thinking? He couldn’t risk a cave-in.

  “You’re right. Let’s sit down,” he told her.

  Her shadowy figure shuffled away from the door.

  “Is there a lantern in here?” He moved gingerly so as not to stumble over one of the children. Before he lowered to the floor, he dug his hand into his pocket, hoping he had a pack of matches.

  “Nay, we didn’t think to bring one,” Katie replied.

  Just as well. He hadn’t found any matches. His fingers touched the brass casing on his pocket watch and his breath caught. He pulled it out but couldn’t inspect it properly without enough light to see the face. At least in the shuffle of seeking shelter, the watch’s chain remained intact and the glass face didn’t feel broken.

  It was noon when he checked the time last. His niece had announced that the meal was ready, and he had glanced out the kitchen window and noticed his nephews struggling against the strong wind to push the buggy into the barn. After going out to help his nephews, a strange noise caught Seth’s attention and he sent the boys into the house while he checked out the source of the wailing. A sorrel mare tangled in the barbed wire had put up a fight. She’d bolted away once freed, and that’s when he’d caught a glimpse of a funnel cloud as it spun closer.

  Seth sat on the damp dirt floor. He hoped his nieces and nephews were safe. With their father in town, picking up supplies . . . Seth squeezed his eyes closed. He refused to think about anything happening to his late sister’s children. God, please send your angels to watch over them. Keep them safe.

  The volume of chatter rose until Katie cleared her throat. “Children, if you’re unable to talk quietly, we will resume our earlier lesson.” Immediately the noise level dropped and she redirected her attention to Seth. “I thought that would settle them,” she said. Then added, “What brings you to our settlement on this dreary day?”

  He leaned against the woodpile next to the woman. “I arrived yesterday to help mei brother-in-law, Amos Mast.”

  “Ach.”

  He wished there was light. Her reluctant reply fed his curiosity, and he would’ve liked to have seen her expression.

  “Your brother-in-law, you say?”

  “Jah, I kumm to help him set up a honeybee farm.” Certain he detected her muttering under her breath, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

  A stretch of silence passed as though she were choosing her words carefully. “I thought perhaps he’d changed his mind about the beehives. I hadn’t seen any boxes.”

  “I just finished building them. We plan to set them up this next week.”

  “Your sister was a fine woman. I miss Erma a lot.”

  Without knowing Katie, he couldn’t be certain, but it sure sounded as though she intentionally shifted the conversation away from the beehives.

  “Denki,” he said.

  Talking about his sister was still difficult for him. His brother-in-law’s household struggled too. Amos seemed steeped in anger while a cloud of depression hung over his children.

  The prattle of young voices grew louder again, pulling Katie’s attention away. Just as well. He didn’t want to talk about his sister’s family or about Erma’s untimely death. Her cancer had consumed more than her own life; it had practically devoured her husband and children.

  Seth tilted his head up to view the cracks in the subfloor. If he had his tools, he could cut an opening large enough to evacuate everyone. “Are there any tools in here? Perhaps an ax?”

  “I’m nett sure. The wood is already split when it arrives at the schul.”

  “Ach, this is a schulhaus.” Her shadowy figure certainly looked far too lean to have mothered twelve children. “Jah, that makes sense.” Hearing the sound of relief in his own tone caused heat to creep up his neck.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your voice sounds young for having . . . so many children.” Dig a little deeper, he inwardly scolded.

  “I’m the teetshah and I’m twenty-nine—if that was your next question.”

  He coughed into his hand, caught off guard by her bluntness. Nay, surely he would’ve caught himself before saying something that offhand. Most leddich maydels were secretive about their age, especially since schoolteachers past twenty-six were considered old maids in his district.

  “I don’t feel an ax at this end,” said a boy at the far side of the room. “But I think I’ve seen one in here.”

  “Denki, Eli.” Katie pulled up to her knees and reached to the woodpile beside Seth.

  “Stay put. I’ll look for it.” It wouldn’t be safe having too many people move about.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said and lowered back to the dirt floor.

  He raked his hands along the top of the woodpile, made his way to the end, then felt the wall in search of an ax leaning against it or hanging off a nail.

  “Nothing.”

  Loose dirt sifted through the cracks and landed on his head. He combed his fingers through his hair as more debris fell. That couldn’t be good. Without saying anything, he slid his hands along the rocky wall, feeling for any indication of disturbed mortar. Once he reached the corner, he prodded the support beam for gaps between it and the wall.

  Wobbly. Just as he suspected. It meant the brace for the support timber was compromised too. Sweat trickled down the middle of his back. Only in his dreams had he relived this predicament. The outcome was always the same—disastrous. God, I beg you not to let another tragedy happen. Send your angels to save these children.

  More loose sand sifted between the cracks.

  “God has heard your plea, child.” Elias reached up and supported the entire load span of the structure.

  Seth swiped his shirtsleeve across his sweaty brow and peered at the ceiling.

  “Touch the support beam again. See that the wall no longer wobbles. See for yourself that God has indeed answered your prayer.”

  The man groaned under his breath. He glanced over his shoulder, but not for long. Meanwhile, his driving heartbeat and heavy respirations indicated his lack of peace. His lack of trust.

  “Why did you pray and not expect God to answer? You will fail in your own strength.” Elias chanted words only the Master understood. Given orders to instruct Seth one last time, Elias pleaded, “Child, you have prayed. Trust God that he has not abandoned you. You asked for help, yet you do not rest in his power.”

  With the limited light quickly fading, Katie couldn’t figure out what Seth was doing. He already said he couldn’t find an ax, yet he pawed the wall like he was searching for something.

  Something poked her ribs and she rotated to Ella Sue on her other side. “Something wrong?”

  “How will mei daed know where we are?”

  “God will lead him to us.” Katie hadn’t turned, but she sensed Seth’s towering presence beside her.

  He dropped to one knee and leaned toward her. “Can you get everyone moved away from this back wall?” Even as he whispered, panic laced his tone. “Nau?”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t ask.” He pushed off his knee and stood.

  She placed one firm hand on Mary’s back and the other hand on Ella Sue to guide them. “Let’s all move forward.” Thankfully, the children didn’t question the instructions. As they all scooted together, she glanced over her shoulder at Seth. He was busy moving wood from the pile to a new corner location. Only he was stacking the pieces high enough to reach the ceiling.

  “I’m scared,” Ella Sue said.

  Katie tapped her legs. “Kumm sit on mei lap.”

  “I want mei mamm.” Mary Lapp’s voice grew shaky.

  “Me too,” yet another child whimpered.

  She had to find something to distract them. “How about we think on gut things?” Katie suggested.

  “That’s a gut idea,” Seth chimed in as he sat down beside them.

  Katie leaned toward him. “Did you get things situated?”

  “As best I could.”

  “What does that mean?” Her voice quivered, trying to whisper.

  “Think of gut things,” he said, then added, “like ice cream.”

  Food wasn’t exactly what she wanted to discuss, not with a roomful of hungry children. Her stomach had started growling before the storm started. No doubt the children were also half-starved.

  “I’m hungry,” one child said. The others agreed.

  Seth leaned closer to Katie. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up ice cream.”

  Ella Sue squirmed into a position on Katie’s lap to face Seth’s direction. “I like chocolate.”

  Little Mary sidled up beside Katie and interweaved her arm around hers. “Are we gonna have to stay here all nacht?”

  Katie balanced Ella Sue on her lap while pulling Mary into a hug. “Lord willing, we’ll get out soon.” Please, Lord, let that be your will. That you send us help and don’t leave us closed up in here all nacht.

  She glanced up at the dim light spilling in through the cracks. Almost nightfall. She didn’t want to dwell on what might be keeping the children’s parents. “Let’s focus on other things. Perhaps when this is over we’ll have a frolic.”

  “With ice cream?”

  Katie smiled. Maybe Seth bringing up food was a good distraction. “Of course, and I’ll make a couple of pies.”

  “Are you kumming too, mister?” Mary asked.

  “Sure. I’ll bring the ice cream,” Seth said. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

  “Vanilla.”

  Several other students shouted out their preference before Seth’s question returned to Katie. “And what is the teetshah’s favorite?”

  “Straw—”

  “Save that thought. I think I hear footsteps,” he said.

  Chapter Three

  Can you hear me?” The door hinges rattled under the man’s heavy rap.

  “Jah!” they all shouted in unison.

  Katie shifted her rigid body to push off the floor, but Seth tapped her shoulder.

  “Stay put,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “Okay.” She eased back down. Seth was right. They didn’t all need to crowd the door. Besides, her legs tingled from several hours locked in the same position, and she wasn’t certain she could stand. “Stay seated until the door is open,” Katie instructed some of the antsy children who had already scrambled to their feet.

  After the man outside explained that a fallen tree had blocked the door, Seth suggested they synchronize their effort and try forcing the door to open in the opposite direction. This time instead of thrusting his shoulder against the door, Seth braced his foot against the stone wall and yanked on the door. Their effort failed. The building, however, released an eerie creak.

  Katie clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp. Dirt sifted between the cracks overhead, and she blinked several times to clear her vision. Flanked at her sides, Ella Sue and Mary clung tightly to her arms.

  “I think the wall moved,” Samuel said.

  “Jah, I felt something too,” confirmed another child.

  “Slide closer together, children.” Consumed with huddling the children into a tighter bond, Katie missed most of the conversation between Seth and the rescuer.

  “This isn’t working. What’s left of this structure is unstable,” said the man outside.

  Seth blew out a breath. “What about from above? Can you cut the planks of the subfloor to gain access?”

  “I’m frightened,” Ella Sue whimpered.

  Mary squeezed Katie’s arm tighter. “Me too.”

  Katie wanted to listen to the rescuer’s reply, but the children pulled her attention away with their cries. Even Seth would find it difficult to communicate with the man if she didn’t settle the children.

  Seth eased away from the door, his urgency nearly palpable. He leaned over Katie’s shoulder to whisper, “Can you have the children clear the center area?”

  She froze. Had the boys been right about the wall moving? Prodded by Seth’s nudge on her shoulder, she shifted into action.

  “You heard him, children. Let’s squeeze together. It won’t be long nau.” She hoped. The children had handled the fright and discomfort of the day’s events without much complaint. But now, jammed together, dirty and uncomfortable, it wouldn’t be long before tension and fear gave way to temper.

  Sawdust sprinkled from above as the man worked above them and sliced through the schoolhouse floor. Katie coughed from inhaling the fine particles. The floor would need repairing prior to the frolic . . . She gnawed on her bottom lip, remembering the sound of the peeling wind and how Seth assumed they’d lost the roof. Perhaps only a section was missing. Lord willing, she could hope that was the extent of the damages. In her mind, she’d already begun to plan the children’s ice cream frolic. With this the middle of May, they didn’t have many more weeks before school broke for the summer. Ending the year with a treat like ice cream was a fine idea. Jah, she’d see to it that something good came from all of this.