A Dark Path #8
After a moment, Bonnie speaks up. “Little Joe was diagnosed six months ago. We started chemo, and Little Joe got terribly sick.”
I nod, giving both young people a moment to shore up their emotions.
Tomasetti shows no such restraint and skewers Thomas with another hard look. “What does that have to do with your taking a minor child from his home without permission? Without telling anyone?”
It’s Bonnie who answers. “Thomas did the right thing, Mr. Tomasetti. You see, Little Joe has been on chemo for weeks now. The good news is it’s working.
The bad thing is the medicine makes him deathly ill.
Mamm and Datt couldn’t bear to see him like that.
They told me to stop the chemo. To give Little Joe time to recover.
They urged me to try a homeopathic regimen and put the rest in God’s hands. So I did.”
“I couldn’t abide by that.” Thomas looks from Tomasetti to me and shakes his head.
“So there was a disagreement on treatment?” I ask.
Thomas nods. “Chemo isn’t perfect, but it’s the only way to fight the leukemia.”
“How exactly is abducting a minor child from his bedroom in the middle of the night helpful?” Tomasetti asks.
“The chemo was working,” Thomas tells him.
“A few more weeks, and he’ll be in remission.
The timing is important. You can’t just stop the treatments.
” He looks over at his son, his face a play of emotion, and he runs his hand over the back of the boy’s head.
“I have no problem with the Amish ways or putting things into God’s hands, but Erma and Joseph were wrong to demand that she stop the chemo at such a crucial time.
They didn’t give me a say in the matter. I felt … helpless.”
I look at Bonnie. “When did you find out Little Joe was with Thomas?”
“An hour or so after I spoke to you. I walked down to the pay phone and called Thomas. Mainly to tell him Little Joe had disappeared. Thomas told me what he’d done.
I was angry, but he wanted the chance to explain.
” She looks away, but not before I see a flash of shame in her eyes.
“He sent a driver to pick me up on the dirt road behind our farm. The driver brought me here.” She tightens her mouth.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Chief Burkholder. But I was scared. And I was ashamed.”
“How is any of this going to help Little Joe?” I ask.
Bonnie responds. “Thomas spent weeks researching the latest medical breakthroughs and different chemo treatments. He looked at clinics and doctors and nutrition. He convinced me it was a mistake to take him off the chemo. He gave me hope.”
Thomas squeezes her hand. “The three of us have an appointment in the morning at the children’s hospital in Cleveland. They’re the best in the world, Chief Burkholder. We’re going to beat this. As a family. And with God’s help.”
“Please don’t misunderstand, Chief Burkholder,” Bonnie says. “My parents love Little Joe. They mean well. They believe in doctors and the power of medicine, too. But they’re wrong about this.”
Thomas shakes his head. “It didn’t help that her parents don’t like me, Chief Burkholder. Not just because I’ve made some mistakes. But because I’m not Amish.” He flushes. “I guess we’re still working that out.”
“I love my parents,” Bonnie says. “I love being Amish. My community. My friends.” She blinks back tears, but doesn’t acknowledge them when they fall.
“Even grumpy old Bishop Troyer.” She looks down at their clasped hands.
“This has made me realize that I cannot remain Amish and marry the father of my son. The man I love. I had to choose.”
“There’s a Mennonite group,” Thomas adds. “Not far from Painters Mill.”
“The bishop there will marry us,” Bonnie tells us. “Even though Thomas isn’t Anabaptist.”
Tomasetti looks from Bonnie to Thomas. “You could have been facing some serious charges.”
Thomas holds his gaze. “I figured I could play by the rules and risk losing my son to cancer—or I could do something about it.” He shrugs. “I chose to do something about it. If that makes me a criminal, then you might as well cuff me and haul me off to jail right now.”
“What happened last night?” I ask.
Thomas doesn’t hesitate. “I waited until everyone was in bed. I parked down by the bridge and went into the house.” He runs his fingertips over Bonnie’s hand.
“I knew my way around; I’d been inside the house a few times.
I knew the back door was never locked. I went upstairs and lifted Little Joe out of his crib. And I brought him here.”
“And the blood?” I ask.
“Little guy had a bloody nose,” he tells me. “Scared the crap out of me.”
“It happens because of the leukemia,” Bonnie adds.
I look at Tomasetti and he shrugs. “Looks like they’ve got the situation under control.”
I turn my attention back to the young couple. They’re sitting close now, with Little Joe on his mamm’s lap, his little head on her shoulder. Thomas stares down at his son, his arm around Bonnie.
I address Bonnie. “We let your parents know you’ve been found and that you’re safe.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“They’d probably appreciate hearing from you,” I tell her.
She lowers her gaze. “I’ll talk to them after the doctor appointment tomorrow.”
Tomasetti gets to his feet. “I think we’re done here.”
Thomas passes him his slicker. “Thank you,” he says, and extends his hand.
Surprising me, Tomasetti grasps the younger man’s hand and shakes it. “Do me a favor and keep your nose clean, will you?” He looks at the toddler and smiles. “That little guy is depending on you.”
Thomas grins. “I won’t let him down,” he says. “Ever.”
“Good luck at the clinic tomorrow,” I tell them as I shrug into my slicker.
The young man turns to me and shakes my hand with unbridled enthusiasm. “Thank you for not giving up on me, Chief Burkholder. We’ll keep you posted.”
It’s eight P.M. and I’m sitting at my desk in my small office, glad this very long day has come to a close.
The police station is blissfully quiet. My newest officer, Mona, is covering for my second-shift dispatcher, and I can just make out Roger Daltrey belting out the final notes of “Love, Reign O’er Me” from the radio on her desk.
Fitting, I think as I power down my laptop.
“Chief?”
I glance up to see Mona standing in the doorway of my office. She’s in uniform this evening, and even after a full day and with another shift looming, she looks bright-eyed and fresh.
Behind her, Tomasetti shakes a bit of rain from the shoulders of his jacket. The sight of him brings a smile to my face.
“I think this guy wants to talk to you,” she announces.
“By all means send him in,” I tell her.
Grinning, Mona backs away and goes back to the switchboard.
Tomasetti enters and takes the visitor chair across from me. “I thought you’d be on your way home by now.”
“Just tying up a few things.”
“You spoke with Rasmussen?” he asks, referring to the Holmes County sheriff with whom I spent an hour or so explaining the “misunderstanding” that led to the missing-juvenile callout this morning.
“He’s glad we found the toddler safe and sound,” I tell him.
“Could have been a hell of a lot worse,” he says. “I’d say this case had a happy ending for everyone involved. How did it go with the Klines?”
“I stopped by earlier and called Thomas while I was there, let them speak to Bonnie,” I tell him.
“They’re relieved Little Joe is okay. Of course, they’re disappointed that Bonnie is going to leave the Amish way.
” I think about my own life and the tattered relationship I share with my siblings—the pieces of which I’m still trying to put back together.
“It’s not going to be easy,” I tell him. “Especially for her.”
“There’s a lesson about tolerance in there somewhere.”
“Not to mention second chances.” I think about Bonnie and the challenges she faces in the coming days and weeks and months. “It takes a lot of courage to walk away from the only life you’ve ever known.”
“Especially when you’re just nineteen years old and you know you’ll likely hurt the people you love.” Tomasetti tilts his head, holds my gaze. “I think you know a thing or two about that.”
“I guess I do.” I feel my gaze skitter away from his, kick myself for succumbing to the old habit, and I take a moment to slide my laptop into its case. “I also know that love and time are great healers.”
“And while it does, indeed, take a certain kind of courage to walk away from everything you’ve ever known,” he says quietly, “it takes a different kind of courage to commit.”
I zip the case and look at him, feeling a little more than I’m comfortable with, but knowing that quick squeeze of my heart is a precious thing. That this is a precious moment. One I’ll carry with me for all time. “You’re not insinuating I’m not up to the task, are you, Tomasetti?”
“You? Kate Burkholder? Afraid to commit?” He feigns incredulity.
I laugh, toss a paper clip at him.
Leaning forward, he sobers, takes my hand in his, and squeezes. “I happen to believe that you’re up to whatever task you set your mind to.”
“I hope you’re not giving me more credit than I deserve.”
“Not on your life.” Rising, he comes around the side of my desk and picks up my laptop case. “However, considering the seriousness of the topic at hand, maybe we ought to swing by McNarie’s bar for a beer and to discuss the situation in depth.”
“Or we could skip McNarie’s.” I shrug. “Go back to the farm.”
“Pop some corn. Build a fire.”
“Have some of that rum raisin ice cream you’ve been hiding in the freezer.”
“I guess that means you found my stash.” He grins. “Has anyone ever told you, you ought to be a cop?”
“I think you’ve mentioned that once or twice.”
Rising, I take his hand and we start toward the door.