by Pamela Bauer
“Yes, you do. You’re Faith…a woman of great compassion and kindness who is extremely good with children. What you don’t know is what may have happened to you in your past.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What if a husband happened?” Although after what happened with Adam on the boat, Faith now had her doubts.
Lori shook her head. “I don’t believe it did.”
“Why not?”
“Because he would have moved mountains to find someone like you,” she answered, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve been missing for at least four months, maybe more.”
She sighed. “I’m beginning to wonder if my memory is ever going to come back.”
“Until it does, I suggest you enjoy being Faith.”
She planned to do just that.
ADAM WAS IN his SUV on his way to an appointment to meet with a couple to discuss their plans for a customized yacht when his sister-in-law phoned.
“Are you already on your way to Rochester?” she asked.
“Yeah, why? The client didn’t cancel, did he?”
“No. That’s not why I’m calling. I saw something on TV last night that I can’t stop thinking about.”
“And what was that?”
“It was a program about the Amish. And, Adam, I have to tell you, it was fascinating. Hearing how they live, what they believe…”
“I’m sure it was, but what does this have to do with me driving to Rochester?”
“Because the Amish in Minnesota live just south of there around the area of Canton and Harmony.”
“And I need to know that because…?”
“I know this is going to sound crazy, but the longer I watched that TV program last night, the more I began to wonder if Faith isn’t Amish.”
“You think Faith is Amish.”
“Yes. She has stuff in common with them.”
“Such as?”
“For one thing, they speak German in their homes. We both know she’s bilingual.”
“That doesn’t make her Amish,” he pointed out.
“No, but if you had seen this program describing their lifestyle you’d know what I mean. Adam, she doesn’t drive. And remember how when she first started working for us we both remarked about how unfamiliar she was with modern technology? She didn’t even know how to use a computer. And it’s obvious she has some kind of strong religious background.”
You don’t suppose she could be a nun. “At least if she’s Amish it means she isn’t a nun, which is what Greg thought she might be. Amish women aren’t celibate, are they?”
“No, but you might have a better chance of getting a nun to leave the convent than an Amish woman to leave her community.”
It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Have you mentioned any of this to Faith?”
“I’m going to go see her this morning, but I thought as long as you’re already down in that area, you could stop and make a few inquiries.”
“With the police? Faith said there were no missing-person reports filed anywhere in Minnesota.”
“I know, but the Amish are not like us, Adam. They keep to themselves.”
“If that’s the case, then how would I find any information even if one of their members was missing?”
“I don’t know. I just thought maybe you could do some nosing around down there.”
“I’ll see how my time goes,” he said evasively.
“All right. I’ve got to go. Matthew’s fussing. Take care and call me if you find out anything.”
Adam thought about waiting until he’d talked to Faith about the possibility before going in search of answers, but when he’d finished his business meeting in Rochester, he found himself in his car driving south on Highway 52, not north.
He’d learned from his client that Harmony was the community where the Amish did most of their business. As he drove down Main Avenue he thought he could have been in any other small town in the Midwest. Small shops lined the block—a drugstore, a hardware, a bank. He pulled up in front of a gift shop that had a sign overhead that read Amish Country Tours and went inside.
At first he thought the store was empty, but then he saw the small man sitting at the end of the counter. From the lines on his face Adam knew the man had seen a lot of living and was probably around the same age as his grandfather. Actually he looked a lot like Robert Novak except his grandfather wouldn’t have worn a county cap.
The man looked up briefly when he heard the door open, narrowed his eyes as he peered at Adam, nodded, then turned his attention back to the project in front of him. He had a miniature screwdriver in one hand, a pair of glasses in the other.
Adam glanced around the gift shop. There were quilts and wall hangings, woven baskets and wooden kitchen accessories, all made by Amish crafters. A bookshelf caught his attention and he paused to glance at a history of the Amish in Minnesota.
“If you want to know about the Amish you should take the tour,” the wizened little man said from behind the counter.
Adam turned around to face him. “You must know a lot about the Amish if you do business with them,” he said, waving the book in the air.
“As much as any outsider can know,” he said with a wary eye. “They’re private people.”
“But they let you give tours of their farms?”
“It’s a cooperative business venture. They have stuff they want to sell.”
Adam glanced around the store. “I can see that.”
“Not just this.” The man chuckled. “This is just a very small amount of what they produce. If you take the tour you’ll see what I mean.” He smiled and the pose he struck reminded Adam of a yard gnome.
“How long does it take?”
“Couple of hours…give or take.” He held up his eyeglasses and peered at them before placing them on his nose. “You want to make a reservation?”
“Do I need one?”
“Sure.” He climbed down from the stool and Adam saw the man was even shorter than he first thought. “Fifteen dollars to go in the van, thirty if you want to take your car,” he recited. “What kind of car you drivin’?”
“I’ve got an SUV.”
He stepped over to the front window to look outside. “Pretty nice. Too bad I’m full for this afternoon. I wouldn’t mind riding in that.” He went back to the ledger on the counter. “I could take you tomorrow morning.” He looked up with a hopeful light in his eye.
“You’ve got nothing for today?”
The man shook his head. “Booked solid. It’s the height of the tourist season you know.”
Adam glanced around the empty shop but didn’t comment. “I’m only here for today.”
The old guy shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to settle for a book then.”
Adam put his selection on the counter and reached for his wallet. While he waited for the shopkeeper to process the transaction, he asked, “You know most of the people around these parts?”
“Some of them.”
“I’m looking for someone. A woman.”
He cracked a wry smile. “It figures.” He placed the book in a brown paper bag and handed it to him. “You think she’s Amish?”
“Yes. I have a picture of her.” He did. It was one he’d pulled out of a packet he’d recently had developed and still carried around in his briefcase.
The old man held up his hand and shook his head. “If you have a picture, she’s not Amish. They don’t believe in graven images.”
“What about if she’s someone who has left that way of life?”
He cocked his head to one side and nodded. He held out his palm and Adam placed the photograph on it.
The old man looked at it first through his glasses, then he lifted the frames and squinted to look a second time. Finally he shook his head. “No one I know.” He handed the photo back to Adam.
“It’s important that I find out whether or not she has family around here.”
“Amish family?”
He nodded.
“What would you do?”
“Maybe pay a visit to a shop on the other end of town,” he said with a wave of a gnarly finger. “It’s owned by a couple who left the Amish community. They might be willing to help you.” He gave Adam the name of the store and directions on how to get there.
Adam extended his hand. “Thank you, Mr….”
“Just call me Earl,” the old guy said as he pumped his hand.
“I’m Adam Novak. I appreciate your help.”
“Hope you find what you’re looking for. Come back when we’re not so busy. I’d like a ride in that car of yours.”
“I may just be back to do that, Earl,” Adam said with a grin and went in search of the gift shop. On the way he spotted a horse-drawn buggy making its way down the same road where cars zoomed by. When it pulled up in front of an ice-cream parlor, Adam watched as a bearded man wearing a straw hat and dark clothing climbed out of the buggy. From the other side came several children, two boys dressed like their father and a little girl wearing a long blue dress with an apron. On her head was a black cap.
Adam wondered if that was how Faith had dressed when she was young. As the family disappeared inside the ice-cream parlor, Adam continued on his way to the gift shop where he hoped to find an answer to his question.
Like Earl’s Amish Country Tours, the small tourist stop offered crafts and homemade items for sale. Adam wondered if the proprietor would be bearded as the man in the buggy had been, but when he stepped inside he saw a clean-shaven face on the man behind the counter. Dressed in a plaid shirt and a pair of jeans, there was nothing about him that resembled the Amish man with his children.
“Hello.” The man greeted Adam with a friendly smile.
“You have a nice place here,” Adam told him, glancing about the store.
“Ja. If you’re looking for furniture, it’s in the back room.” He cocked his head toward a doorway. As if on cue, a woman poked her head out and smiled.
“Actually, I’m looking for information.”
The woman disappeared and the man stiffened. “You’re not a reporter, are you?”
“No.” Adam extended his hand and introduced himself. “I design boats.” That had the man’s shoulders relaxing.
“What can I help you with?”
Adam pulled the snapshot of Faith from his pocket and held it up. “Do you recognize this woman?”
Without even looking at the picture he walked away shaking his head. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“I’m sorry I had to take her picture. I didn’t mean any disrespect,” Adam said, following him down the counter.
“It’s not that,” he said, turning to lift a box off the shelf behind him.
“Then what is it?”
“Just because I’m not one of them anymore doesn’t mean I don’t respect their wish for privacy.”
“Then she is Amish?”
“It’s not for me to say.” He walked over to a revolving rack and began restocking it with postcards.
Adam followed him. “What if I were to tell you this woman was in an accident and can’t remember who she is?”
That brought his head around with a jerk.
“She’s living in St. Paul, wondering whether or not she even has a family,” Adam continued. “Everything that happened before her accident is a blank.”
“She does not know whether she is English or Amish?”
Adam shook his head. “She’s worried that people may be looking for her, wondering what happened to her…maybe even thinking that she’s dead.”
“Some believe to disobey the church is to die,” he said cryptically.
Adam frowned. “Are you saying her family wouldn’t want to know she’s alive?”
“I’m saying family matters are private and we don’t know the circumstances of her past.”
“Then you do recognize her?”
It took a long moment, but he finally said, “It may be someone I have seen.”
“Can you give me a name?”
He shook his head. “This is not your matter. She needs to be the one who asks the questions.”
“If I bring her here will you give her the answers?”
“If she wants to know.”
“She wants to know,” he said, then thanked him for his time and left the shop.
“WHERE’S MEGAN?” Adam asked as he walked through the gate into the backyard.
Faith, who’d been weeding the garden, sat back on her heels. “She’s over at her friend Emily’s house. Is everything okay? You look so serious.”
He smiled then and her heart did its usual flip-flop. “Come sit down. I need to show you something,” he said, taking a seat at the patio table.
She pulled off her gardening gloves and sat on the chair next to his. It was then she noticed he had a book in his hand and what appeared to be tourist brochures. He handed the top one to her.
“‘Welcome to Harmony, the biggest little town in southeastern Minnesota,’” she read aloud. Puzzled, she looked at him for an explanation.
“I picked that up today.”
“You were in Harmony?”
He nodded. “It’s just south of Rochester.”
“I know where it is.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “It was featured in an article in the travel pages a few weeks ago. They have a wonderful bike trail that follows the Root River. I believe there are also quite a few shops that sell Amish furniture. Is that why you went? To look for that new table and chairs you talked about getting for the house?”
“No, I was looking for you.”
“But I was here,” she said, then realized the implication of his words. A wave of uneasiness began to uncurl inside her.
He reached for her hand. “Faith, I think I may have found where you belong.”
Her mouth went dry and her heart felt as if it had moved into her throat. “You found my family?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “No, but there’s a good chance we will find them if we go back down to Harmony. I showed your photograph to a couple of people,” he continued.
“And someone recognized me?”
“Not exactly. It’s not easy getting information about the Amish. They’re a very private people, but I did talk to someone who was a former member of their community and he gave me reason to believe that you’re somehow connected to them.”
The Amish? She unfolded the tourist guide and saw a horse-drawn buggy. “You think I’m Plain?”
“Faith, Plain is the term Amish use when referring to themselves.”
“But you’re familiar with it.”
“Because I was just in Harmony. There are other things about you, Faith, that point in that direction.”
She shook her head. “It can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Because that lifestyle is not mine.” She could see by the look on his face that he was wondering how she knew what kind of lifestyle the Amish led. “I have knowledge about a lot of things, Adam,” she pointed out. “Things I read and learned at school are still up here,” she said, pointing to her head. “I’ve heard about the Amish but I’m not one of them. I’m not.”
“I know. I didn’t say you are Amish. I just said there’s a possibility. It would explain a lot of things…like why no one has looked for you.”
She was quiet for a long moment as she digested what she’d just learned. “I need to find out…one way or the other.”
“I know. Until we know for sure that you are a member of that community, we’ll assume it’s simply speculation.”
“When will we know?”
“When do you want to go to Harmony?”
She was tempted to say never. She’d finally accepted that her past might be forever locked away. Now she was being told that everything she feared may be coming true. He didn’t pres
s her for an answer, but raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“How long will it take to get there?” she asked.
“Around a couple of hours.”
She took a deep breath and said, “Then I’d like to go in the morning if Lori is able to take care of Megan for me.”
“She will.” He kissed her tenderly. “No matter what you uncover, I’m going to be there for you. I’ll help you in any way I can. We’ll get through this together.”
Faith appreciated his strength and his concern, but deep down inside she knew that this was something no one else could do for her. She was the only one who could find herself, yet it frightened her to think of how unlocking her past could change her whole future.
She rubbed two fingers across her brow. “Maybe we could call and get the information.”
“The Amish don’t have phones and I really think this is something better done in person, don’t you?”
She nodded. “It’s just that…” She didn’t finish, not wanting to tell him that she was scared. She didn’t need to tell him that. She knew he could see it in her eyes.
He wrapped his arms around her in a reassuring hug. “I’ll be there with you.”
She pushed away from him and straightened. “All right. I’ll do it. I’m ready to find the answers.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ADAM EXPECTED the drive from St. Paul to Harmony would take close to two hours. While he drove, Faith read the book he’d purchased at the gift shop. When he asked her, “Does any of that sound familiar?”
Her reply was “Yes.”
Uneasiness rumbled through him. Despite the evidence to the contrary, he wanted to believe that he and Faith were on a wild-goose chase that would lead them nowhere.
When she closed the book and set it aside he asked, “What are you thinking?”
“That I don’t want a life of self-denial,” she answered candidly.
“You don’t have to have one. They don’t keep people hostage there.”
“I don’t want them to be my people. They’re Old Order Amish, the least progressive.”
He could hear the anxiety in her voice and reached for her hand. “I know. Maybe you don’t belong there.”
She didn’t answer, but stared out the window at the rolling countryside. After a few moments she said, “Why wouldn’t someone have looked for me?”