The one holding the jars backed all the way to the wall as if he’d been shoved, obviously as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Rose couldn’t see much by the light of her dropped flashlight, but he must have been an Englischer. He wore a baseball cap and blue jeans. “Let’s get out of here, Jethro,” he hissed.
Jethro, the boy behind Rose, squeezed her tighter. She winced but didn’t struggle. Terror made her limbs weak, and she couldn’t do anything but stay upright. “She’ll give us away.”
“Then let’s just run. Now. We can run faster than she can, and we have a car.” As strange as it was at a time like this, the Englischer tiptoed over the shards of glass and set the unbroken jars gently back on the shelf. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute,” Jethro said. Rose squeaked as he tore the bandanna from her hair and pressed his hand into her face so she would turn her head. “Which one are you?” he said. “Buddy, grab the flashlight.”
The Englischer snatched Rose’s flashlight from the floor and shined it in Rose’s face. Jethro took his hand from her mouth and squeezed her cheeks until she winced in pain. She was too frightened to cry out, and no one at the house would hear her weak attempt anyway. He got a gute look at her, and she got a gute look at him.
Fright tore through her. It was dark, and she hadn’t seen him for thirteen years, but she was fairly sure that La Wayne Zook’s youngest son was the one who held her fast. Dan had said that La Wayne’s wife had left the church, but Jethro wore a traditional Amish straw hat, a dark shirt, and suspenders. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen, but he was solid like La Wayne and his expression was one of pure hatred.
“Rose,” he growled, slapping his hand back over her mouth. “This is the one, Buddy.”
Buddy recoiled in shock, almost as if he wished Rose had not walked into the honey house. “Let’s go, Jethro. We’ve done enough. You’ve had your revenge. Let’s get out of here.”
“We’re not going until I show her what she’s done. She’s going to see.”
“What do you mean, Jethro? You can’t show her anything.”
Rose thought she might pass out from the sheer force of her blood racing through her veins. She had never felt such pure terror before. How she wished she were like Poppy, who would have fought her way out of the honey house with her bare hands, or even Lily, who would have been able to struggle free and run away. But Rose was helpless, as helpless as the seven-year-old girl who had been shoved out of the haymow. As helpless as the five-year-old praying for Gotte to send her parents back.
The only thing she did well was cry, but her tears would do her no good. They never had. She was useless.
“We’re taking her to Wallsby,” Jethro said.
Buddy’s expression flooded with confusion and panic. “Wha . . . right now?”
Jethro nodded. “I want her to see.”
Buddy pressed his palm against his forehead and nearly made his hat fall off. “Are you crazy? That’s kidnapping, Jethro. You’re crazy.” He pointed toward the door. “They’re sitting out on the porch. They’ll see us.”
Jethro didn’t hesitate. He shoved Rose farther into the room. “We go out the window.”
Buddy seemed almost more panicked than Rose was. He walked backward as he panted for air. “No, Jethro. This is crazy. We’ll get arrested.”
“Open the window. We can crawl out.”
With his eyes flashing in alarm, Buddy opened the window on the side of the honey house away from the porch where Dan and Lily sat. Leaving the flashlight on one of the shelves, he scooted the table beneath the window, climbed onto it, and kicked out the screen. Then he went out the window feet first.
“Get up there,” Jethro said, shoving Rose toward the table with his hand still over her mouth. “Don’t make a sound or you’ll be sorry.”
Rose couldn’t have made a sound if she wanted to. It was all she could do to stay upright.
Something small and orange dropped from one of the honey shelves near the window and landed on Jethro’s shoulder. In his surprise, Jethro yanked his arm up and snapped Rose’s head back against him. Rose heard a hiss and a growl as Leonard Nimoy dug her little claws into Jethro’s skin. He momentarily released Rose and snatched the kitten from his arm. Leonard Nimoy didn’t go quietly. She left eight long and bleeding claw marks.
“Don’t hurt her!” Rose screamed, finally finding her voice.
Jethro set Leonard Nimoy on the ground and pressed his hand against Rose’s mouth. “Shut up, Rose. Shut up.”
Rose could see the kitten out of the corner of her eye as she tried to climb up the shelf again. She was preparing for another attack.
Jethro shoved Rose toward the window once more. “Get up there.”
She couldn’t do it. Her legs felt like jelly. For sure and certain, she’d end up in a heap.
When he saw she wouldn’t move, Jethro put his mouth up against her ear. “Get up there or the next person who comes through that door is getting smacked in the head.”
Terror clamped an icy hand around Rose’s throat as she heard the thud of horse hooves and the crunch of buggy wheels against gravel outside. The faint sound of off-tune singing accompanied the buggy’s approach. Josiah! He was coming up the lane in his courting buggy. She had to get Jethro away from here, and the only way to do that was to get out with him.
With Jethro’s not-too-gentle shove, she found the strength to pull herself onto the table and climb out the window. Buddy was on the other side to grab her hand and soften her landing. Jethro followed close behind.
“Stay quiet,” he said, “or you’ll get hurt.” He hooked his arm around her waist and half dragged, half carried her across the clover field and deeper into the night.
She felt both profound relief and a sense of dread darker than she could have ever imagined.
She had saved the ones she loved most in the whole world.
Would anyone save her?
* * *
Josiah had started humming a tune the minute he’d hitched up his buggy. The humming had turned into whistling about halfway here. The whistling had turned into singing on the last mile of his journey. He had probably disturbed a lot of birds and livestock that were trying to sleep, but he was too happy to keep it to himself. He was in love with Rose Christner, and he thought maybe she loved him too. He wanted to share his gute news with everyone.
Thanks to Rose, he was mostly healed, but singing made him cough, so he would sing a song, take a break to cough, and then sing another one.
Because she had the kindest heart in the world, Rose had organized Bitsy and her sisters and Dan and Luke to help on Josiah’s farm while he recovered. She hadn’t allowed him to lift a finger for four whole days, even when he had started feeling better. He hated being down in bed like that, but Rose had cooked him dinner every night and made him a cake or a pie or some other delectable dessert to help him feel better. He’d probably gained ten pounds lying around.
Suvie, who usually took very gute care of him, had been noticeably absent since he’d gotten sick. He was grateful he got to spend time with Rose instead, which was probably the reason Suvie had stayed away. He’d have to thank her for her neglect.
Even Ashley and Griff had come to help with chores on Saturday. How Rose had gone from being terrified of Griff to teaching him how to weed pumpkins was a miracle. Gotte always knew that Griff could change. Maybe everybody else just needed to see it to believe it.
The best news of all was that Josiah had been able to track down the phone number for La Wayne’s exwife today. She lived in Shawano, not ten miles from Bienenstock with her younger children and her new husband. Josiah planned on calling her tomorrow. Maybe this whole thing could be settled before the next gmay.
A thrill of anticipation traveled up his spine. He had it all planned out. As soon as Rose was out of danger, he’d buy a case of duct tape and come over every week to fix something for Bitsy. Then, after three or four months, he would ask R
ose if he could court her. Then three or four months later, he’d start bringing over tubes of paint. A few months after that, he’d beg her to marry him, and Lord willing, she’d say yes. He’d be the happiest boy in the world.
It would just about kill him to go so slow—he was passionately in love, after all—but he wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardize his chances with her. He loved her. Waiting another year or two would be a small price to pay if he could be with Rose forever.
Lily and Dan sat on the porch holding hands under the light of a lantern. A pang of jealousy hit him like a snowball to the chest. He wanted to sit out on the porch and hold hands with Rose something wonderful, but that wasn’t in his plan until month six. Oy, anyhow, how could he bear to wait?
He tamped down his longing and tried to be grateful for what he did have. Rose had allowed him back onto the farm, and he would see her tonight. He was blessed indeed.
He jumped from his buggy and strode across the flagstones. “Is Rose inside?”
“Gute evening to you too,” Dan said, looking genuinely happy to see him. He and Dan had gotten closer in the last few months, painting barn doors in the middle of the night together, keeping an eye out for troublemakers, and courting Christner schwesters.
“Sorry,” Josiah said. “Good evening to you. Is Rose inside?”
Dan laughed. “Why waste time with your best friend when you can be with a pretty girl?”
Josiah nodded. “Jah. That’s what I’m thinking.”
Lily’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “You just missed her. She went to the honey house to find Leonard Nimoy.”
“By herself?”
“Jah,” Lily said. “She’s getting braver all the time.”
Wonderful-gute. Maybe he could move his schedule up a little. If Rose was willing to walk to the honey house by herself in the gathering darkness, maybe she’d soon be accepting tubes of paint without reservation. “I’ll go get her,” he said, already halfway down the lane.
“If she’s not there, she was going to look behind the barn,” Dan called.
Josiah frowned. The honey house was one thing. Behind the barn was quite another. It was out of sight of the house, and too many bad things had happened there. He didn’t want Rose behind the barn by herself, whether she was brave enough or not.
He jogged to the honey house and opened the door. “Rose?” It was too dark to see much, but she obviously wasn’t there. A twinge of urgency stuck him like a pin. She’d gone behind the barn. Picking up his pace, he covered the distance between the honey house and the barn in a matter of seconds. The chickens had already gone to roost in the coop, and Rose wasn’t there. Neither was Leonard Nimoy.
His heart skipped a beat. Don’t panic. Maybe he missed her on her way back to the house. He ran to the front of the barn and called to Dan as he crossed the flagstones. “Did she come back? Did you see her?”
Dan and Lily both stood up. “What do you mean?” Lily said.
“I can’t find her.”
Lily marched down the steps. “What do you mean, you can’t find her? She went to the honey house not five minutes ago.”
Dan grabbed the lantern from the hook on the porch, and without another word, the three of them raced to the honey house. Josiah outstripped Lily and Dan by several yards. Maybe she was in the honey house after all, and he’d somehow missed her.
He opened the door. “Rose?” Nothing but darkness and silence replied.
Dan finally caught up with the lantern and held it aloft so they could get a better look. Broken glass on the floor sparkled in the lamplight like so many fallen stars. A table had been moved to beneath the wide-open window to their left, and a small flashlight sat on it, still glowing.
Lily gasped. “That’s Rose’s flashlight. I don’t understand. She was just here.”
Josiah’s heart skipped a beat when he heard a faint squeak to his left. Leonard Nimoy sat on one of the shelves shivering like the last leaf on the tree. “Leonard Nimoy!” Josiah picked up the kitten and cradled her in his arms. “Leonard Nimoy, do you know what happened to Rose?”
Leonard mewed mournfully and buried her head against Josiah’s shirt.
Josiah handed the kitten to Lily and took the lantern from Dan. He shined it in the direction of the window. There was a smear of blood on the edge of the table and one on the windowsill.
Sharp, hard, icy fear stabbed Josiah in the chest. He thought he might be sick.
Dan leaned his head out the window. “They must have climbed out this way.”
Dan didn’t need to explain who “they” were. They wanted revenge on Rose, and now they had her.
“They can’t have been gone long,” Josiah said, willing his shaking legs to move. With the lantern still grasped tightly in his fist, he ran out of the honey house and tore across the fields behind it. He didn’t have time to wait for Lily and Dan. Hadn’t Jack Willis told him that he’d seen the troublemakers’ car parked behind the Christners’ property a few weeks ago?
“Dear Heavenly Fater,” he prayed. “I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Please don’t let them hurt my Rose.”
He felt like he was in one of his dreams where he ran and ran and never got anywhere. The field seemed a hundred miles long with no end in sight. He heard Dan’s heavy footsteps behind him, but couldn’t begin to guess if Lily had followed.
He leaped over the pasture fence, sprinted through the stand of trees that marked the edge of the Christners’ property, and came to a paved road where he could see four or five houses in the gathering darkness. There were no rusty brown cars parked on the road. There were no cars at all. A hundred yards ahead, he could see taillights of a car, but he had no way to know if that was the car he was looking for or if Rose was inside.
Completely spent, he fell to his knees on the pavement and yelled his frustration to the sky. His voice echoed off the house across the street and came back to him.
Dan emerged from the trees and gazed down the road. “Oh no,” he said, swiping his hand across his mouth.
Josiah clawed his way out of the depths and got to his feet. He’d be no good to Rose if he couldn’t keep himself together.
“What do we do now?” Dan said.
“Where’s Lily?”
“She ran to the house to tell Bitsy and Poppy.”
A dark figure appeared from behind a tree across the road. Josiah held his breath and lifted the lantern higher. Whoever it was turned on his phone flashlight and shined it in Josiah’s face. “Is that you, Joe?”
Josiah recognized the sticky-outy ears and the shaggy black hair before the light fell on Jack Willis’s face and his wild, frightened expression.
“It’s me,” Josiah said. “Can you help us, Jack? They’ve kidnapped Rose.”
Jack nodded. “I know. I saw them.”
“You did? Which way?”
Jack pointed south. “But you won’t catch them. They drove out of here like the police were chasing ’em.”
Josiah tried to keep his head. “Did you get a license plate number or anything?”
“Remember how you told me to keep an eye out for that car?”
“Jah.”
“I came outside like ten minutes ago and there it was, parked right here, right where I saw it before. It wasn’t locked, so I climbed in and opened the glove box.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a crinkled piece of paper. “I copied down the registration information. I know where they live.”
Josiah could have given Jack a hug. “Ach, du lieva.”
“I got out of the car and was walking across the street when they came running through the trees. It was two of them, and the one guy was dragging an Amish girl. I could tell she didn’t want to go with them, but I didn’t know what to do to stop them. I was afraid they’d run me over. I’m sorry.”
“You wouldn’t have been able to stop them,” Josiah said, his gut a pit of rocks. “And you might have gotten hurt.”
“I got their address,” J
ack said, handing Josiah the paper. “They live in Shawano, but I don’t have a car to take you there.”
“Can I borrow your phone?” Josiah asked. Jack handed his phone to Josiah, who handed it to Dan. “Do you remember that number?”
Dan’s face briefly clouded with confusion before he caught his breath and nodded. He pressed the numbers on the screen and handed the phone to Josiah, who prayed with all his might. If she didn’t answer, he didn’t know what he’d do.
Finally, thankfully, a voice on the other end. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ashley?” Josiah said. “I need your help.”
Chapter Seventeen
Foam rubber protruded from several cracks in the vinyl in the backseat of Buddy’s filthy car. Rose sat on one side of the backseat with her back pressed against the door, her arms clamped tightly around her waist and her feet tucked underneath her in as small a ball as possible. Jethro sat in back with her, probably to be sure she didn’t decide to open the door and hurl herself out of the moving car. At this point, she was almost desperate enough to do it.
She had never in her life been able to keep herself from crying when she was upset. And even though she yearned with all her heart that she could stop, the tears slid down her cheeks like rainwater against a window. She tried her best to cry silently, but an occasional whimper came out of her mouth that made Jethro all the angrier.
“Shut up,” he said, when an involuntary sob escaped her lips. “You’re getting on my nerves.”
Rose pulled her arms tighter around herself and tried to shrink to nothing. What was going to happen to her? Did Jethro want her dead or in pain? Was he planning on doing something unspeakable to her in the dark of the night? She shuddered down to her toes as the tears dripped down her face.
How she wished Josiah were here. He would hold her close and make everything all better. She never felt so happy as when she was with him.
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