Amelia leaned back in the comfortable booth, letting her eyes roam the coffee shop. She was somewhat amused by the many patrons hunched over their laptops. Several slurped on iced coffee or chai lattes, and one man moved his lips as his fingers flew over a keyboard.
She experienced a sudden surge within, a need to control this one minuscule part of her life. Amelia turned off the laptop and reached for her icy drink. Stoney and Byron could wait.
Lillianne had witnessed Michael run out to wave down his friend. He could’ve gotten himself run over, she stewed. Why’s he chasing after an outsider?
Shaking her head, she went to feed the chickens, scattering corn feed in the open pen. While they scurried about, eating and pecking at each other, Lillianne entered the warm, dark little hen house, going around to collect the eggs from the nests and place them in her wire basket. Once, years ago, she’d encountered their oldest son, Roy, out here smooching the girl he ended up marrying.
Oh, thought Lillianne, if only Michael might fall for one of our church girls. But Michael was clearly carrying a torch for the young woman right now driving her car to town. Not even Marissa could hold a candle to this here Englischer, it seemed.
Lillianne took great care with the egg basket and its precious contents, not wanting to drop a single egg. Not like she’d done yesterday, while Michael and his father were exchanging heated words. Today she’d use some of these very eggs to make a welcome home cake for their youngest son, who would surely never think of kissing a girl out in the hen house, of all places!
At least, she hoped not.
Chapter 21
Saturday morning very early, Lillianne found Michael sitting alone in the kitchen. He turned ashen when he saw her, his hands dropping quickly to his lap.
“Michael, I know you have a cell phone. No need to hide it.”
His eyes were ever so serious.
“Well, you don’t much care for it, Mamm.”
She ignored that. “You look awful worried.”
He hesitated. “It’s a text from Elizabeth. She must’ve sent it last night,” he muttered. “Didn’t check messages till just now.”
“Everything all right?” Lillianne asked.
He shrugged, suddenly acting casual. “Well, you know, it’s hard to tell ’bout her.”
Lillianne stared at the cell phone in his hands, her heart racing. How she longed to know where their dear granddaughter was after all these months. “When was the last you heard something?”
“A few weeks, maybe.” Michael’s voice was quiet, like he could barely get enough breath to speak. He pressed a button, which caused the screen to blacken. “I just texted back. I’m sure we’ll hear more soon.”
“Tell her that Dawdi and I pray for her every day, won’t ya?” Lillianne wouldn’t ask more, although she could hardly stand not knowing what was going on. And something was, too, just from the look on Michael’s fretful face.
He glanced anxiously toward the door. “I should get back to the barn. Daed will wonder what’s become of me.”
She nodded, worried sick as she watched him trudge out to the harness shop. He knows more than he’s letting on!
Michael was in the stable feeding the mules when Amelia arrived. His pulse quickened as she stepped into view; then he chided himself. Her being in Hickory Hollow was only temporary, after all.
“I put your laptop on the kitchen table,” she told him. “Thanks for letting me borrow it yesterday.”
“Just let me know if ya need it again.”
“Something wrong?” she asked. For pity’s sake, if she didn’t see right into him!
“Actually, there is,” he admitted.
“Can I help?” She reached out as though to touch his arm, then seemed to think better of it.
“I’m not sure anything can be done,” he said in a low voice. Michael continued to pour feed into the trough. “Lizzie, my niece, is in a bad way.”
Amelia’s eyes filled with worry. “Where is she?”
“Harrisburg . . . in the hospital.” He explained about the rough crowd she’d fallen in with and asked Amelia not to say anything to Joanna or anyone else. “ ’Specially not to my parents.”
“Oh, I hope and pray she’s okay.”
“She says it’s nothing. But scrapes and scratches don’t land anyone in the hospital. So something’s not quite right.” He shook his head. “She’s not answering her phone. I tried texting, too.”
“Maybe you should just go to her.”
He bowed his head. “She and I have been through this before. Lizzie doesn’t want me to interfere—she can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes.”
“But she contacted you, right?”
Michael nodded.
“Maybe that’s her way of asking for help.”
“Well, I can’t just leave here . . . not with Daed like he is. Besides, you’re my guest,” he replied.
“Don’t worry about me . . . it’s Joanna I’m staying with. You should go, Michael. Wouldn’t your father want you to?”
Feeling awkward at what he’d implied, Michael finished up his chore before continuing the conversation. What did Amelia know about any of this? Yet she seemed to care. “You’re probably right,” he said suddenly. “You know what? You’re English. Maybe you could help make sense of all this—with Elizabeth, I mean.”
Amelia’s expression grew doubtful. “You two are obviously close, Michael. She’s asking for you. I’m just another English stranger.”
“But, seriously, would ya mind?” He was at a loss to know how to handle his niece, especially with this latest news. Look what good I’ve been to her. . . .
“Are you sure?” she asked.
He straightened, fixing his eyes on her. “It sure would mean a lot.”
“Okay, then,” she relented. “When do you want to go?”
Michael’s shoulders dropped with relief. “As soon as I wash my hands and put on trousers that don’t have manure stickin’ to the hems.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said with a slight smile, which Michael would have returned had he not been so nervous about naïve Elizabeth living outside the Plain community. If anything terrible had happened to her, a big part of the blame would fall at his feet.
Once they were on their way, Michael wanted to level with Amelia. “There’s more to what’s goin’ on with Elizabeth,” he confided. “She’s in over her head with a worldly fella.”
Amelia looked over at him. “Is that why you wanted me to come along?”
He nodded. “I just hope she’ll listen to wisdom for a change.”
Amelia smiled quickly and folded her hands. “You might want to go easy on her, at least at first.”
Michael chuckled under his breath. “I was hopin’ you could help with that.”
“So, you must want to talk her into coming home with you.”
He nodded quickly. “When you meet her, you’ll know right away she belongs in Hickory Hollow.” He meant it. “If she’ll just open up—to both of us—she’ll know it, too.”
He dreaded the thought of Lizzie dating a man outside the Plain community, someone who might influence her away from God. Unlike him, his niece showed little interest anymore in faith.
“I’ll do what I can,” Amelia said quietly.
“Well, she has to make the choice to return.” He realized how strange this must sound to Amelia, considering his own struggles with the church. “For Elizabeth, it’s most definitely the right thing,” he added quickly.
“But . . . not for you?”
Amelia had him, and he suspected Lizzie would ask much the same. This was always where things ended up. But it didn’t matter now. What mattered was helping his niece. And if that made him seem a hypocrite, then so be it.
After a lull in conversation, Amelia asked, “You know, right now I’m really wondering how the Amish church retains young people. How does Hickory Hollow manage to hold on to someone like Joanna or your siblings?”
“Some thin
k it’s a peculiar riddle, but the Rumschpringe years give youth a chance to see what the outside world is like. Not all teens leave the confines of the People, mind you. Only a small percentage dip their toes in the modern world.”
“Just a small few, you say.” Amelia looked unusually thoughtful.
“Yes, very few,” he repeated, wishing he could sit again across a table from her, to focus solely on her.
Amelia seemed to consider this. “Strange as it might sound, I recognize a bit of my own life here in Amish country. In some ways, I’ve been just as cloistered from the world as the People, though my parents would hate to hear it.” She gave him a wry smile. “Maybe this is my Rumschpringe, eh?”
Michael wasn’t sure what she meant until she told him about the European tour and all the hopes surrounding that.
“I feel like everyone’s holding their collective breath, waiting for me to sign on the dotted line. And, well, suddenly I’m not so sure anymore.” Amelia sighed and shifted in her seat. “It’s a little like you, I guess, with your bishop and your family waiting for you to join the church. There’s so much that depends on that decision.” She turned away from him, glancing toward the window.
“It’s not possible to make a decision like that lightly, is it?” he said, understanding more fully now why they had connected from the very first.
After Michael and Amelia pulled into the hospital parking lot, he hurried around to the passenger side of the car to open her door. She waited, smiling at his attention.
“Wow, thanks . . . it’s been ages since I’ve been around a gentleman.” He tipped his straw hat, and they laughed a little as they made their way toward the Harrisburg hospital. The lighthearted moment felt good after the frank discussion they’d had during the trip here.
In a short time, it was discovered that Elizabeth had been discharged more than an hour earlier. As no other details were forthcoming, Amelia could only imagine what had happened to cause her to be admitted.
Michael pulled out his cell phone, and as they walked back to the car, he texted his niece. Amelia held her breath, hoping the trip had not been in vain. “She must be at her apartment by now,” he said with a pensive look.
Amelia was glad she’d accompanied him—how would it have been for him to be alone right now?
“Why not just call her again? She might need to hear your voice.”
He nodded, his face solemn as he tried once more to reach young Elizabeth.
———
At last Michael got through to his niece. “You had me worried, Lizzie,” he said when she answered. “I kept texting ya, but heard nothin’ back.”
“I couldn’t use my phone in the hospital—so didn’t get your texts right away.”
“Well, I was just there and was told you’re out now. I want to visit ya . . . see for myself that you’re okay.”
Elizabeth paused, and Michael could hear voices in the background. Male voices. “Ain’t such a gut time, really,” she said, sounding strange.
“I drove here to check on ya.” He softened his tone. “You asked me to come, remember?”
“I’m fine now,” she said, still resisting. “Really, I am.”
“Mamm’s awful worried.”
Elizabeth gasped. “Grandma Lily knows . . . ?”
“Listen, I was careful what I said. I really want to see you, Elizabeth.” He pleaded this time.
“Hold on just a minute.” She must’ve covered the phone because he heard her talking—and someone responding rather loudly—although the words were muffled. In a few seconds, she returned. “Okay, I’m back.”
“What’s your address?” he asked, hoping she’d comply.
After a long pause, she told him the street name and number.
“I’ll be right over.”
“Don’t make a fuss, jah? I’m fine, really!” Was she protesting too much?
“Okay, bye!” Michael clicked off his cell phone.
We’ll just see if she’s fine.
Chapter 22
Elizabeth’s apartment was located in a section of the city where row houses lined the street for blocks on end. Michael didn’t tell Amelia what he was thinking as he pulled up to the curb in front of a rather rundown-looking building. It’s a good thing her parents don’t know where she’s living!
He asked Amelia to come along, and they stepped out of the car and up the steps. They met Elizabeth coming out the front door, which she closed quickly behind her, a large canvas bag slung over her slight shoulder. One side of her face was badly bruised and bandaged, and her right arm was in a cast and sling. She reeked of cigarette smoke.
Elizabeth raised her blue-gray eyes in surprise at the sight of Amelia, though she did not acknowledge her. His niece looked nothing like the innocent young woman she had been, growing up in Hickory Hollow. She wore her dark hair loose and hanging down her back, and more than half the length of it had been cut off—so unevenly that Michael wondered if she’d lopped it off herself. What little eye makeup she wore had smeared onto her bruised face as if she had been crying.
“Come, let’s talk in the car,” he suggested, missing terribly her formerly cheerful countenance.
“This is Amelia, a friend of mine, by the way,” he told her, hoping Elizabeth might show some manners and say hello.
Elizabeth nodded quickly, then looked back at him as she got into the front seat of the car. “I don’t have much time,” she stated quickly.
“Why don’t I go for a short walk,” Amelia said as he hurried around the car to the driver’s side.
“Okay,” he replied, opening the door. “Thanks.”
Michael slipped in behind the steering wheel, uncertain how this would turn out, given how very crumpled Elizabeth looked—not only her battered face and broken arm, but her nearly sullen attitude.
———
Amelia strolled up the street, taking her time. Most of the brownstone houses were fairly well kept, but farther down, a broken tricycle appeared abandoned near the curb. Besides Elizabeth’s building, one house, in particular, was in disrepair, the exterior paint chipping off in places. For all its supposed inhabitants, the neighborhood felt surprisingly devoid of life compared to the countryside around Lancaster County.
How could a sheltered Amish girl be happy here in the city? she wondered, feeling certain from what she’d seen that Michael’s dear niece was at risk.
———
“Don’t you get it?” Michael’s voice rose out of control. He paused a moment, taking a quick breath, forcing himself to be calm. “This isn’t what you had in mind when you left. Can’t you see this, Lizzie?”
Elizabeth pouted, her arms folded defiantly.
“You came here to attend school. What happened?”
She shook her head. “You really don’t understand, do ya?” Now she started to cry. “I dropped out, all right? I had no choice!” She shouted the words, her face red. “I couldn’t keep my grades up. It wasn’t enough to go to the one-room Amish schoolhouse . . . I just barely passed my GED test,” she explained. “So I’m a failure. I couldn’t cut it, and my precious dream’s gone for gut.”
“No . . . no.” Michael reached over to touch her head lightly. “Lizzie, you’re not a failure.”
She stared at him, her eyes pink. “But I am, Uncle Michael. I’m not as smart as you or anyone else in the Hollow.”
“Honey . . . no. Listen, you are smart—you’re very bright.”
“I wanted an education, more than anything. I wanted to make my way in the world, not end up married to an Amishman, expected to have a whole houseful of kids . . . with no time to read or study like I’ve always longed to.” She paused to wipe her eyes. “Like you, Uncle Michael.”
He couldn’t refute that. He was her role model, she’d once said . . . she wanted to follow in his footsteps. But where had it led her?
Elizabeth looked over at the brick house. “Even if I can’t make it in college, I still want my freedom.” She motioned to
the run-down building. “This is my life now. My waitressing job . . . and that apartment there.”
“And the girls you share it with?” he asked pointedly. “Are they nice?”
“Sure,” she said, looking away. “And the guys, too. They’re all nice to me.”
He stiffened. “Guys live there, too, Elizabeth?”
“Please don’t make me go back to my old boring life,” she pleaded. “I’d rather die—”
“Apparently you came awful close last night!”
She sobbed into her hands, leaning forward and rocking back and forth. “I hate bein’ told what to do all the time.”
“Listen, I really just want to take ya home.”
Elizabeth’s face darkened. “I’m not going back.”
This isn’t going well. He spotted Amelia slowly walking back and wished she’d stayed. Maybe then this conversation wouldn’t have gone so awry.
“You’re in trouble, Elizabeth. You asked to see me, remember?” He stopped and wished he had a handkerchief to offer her. “I came because I care about you.”
“Well, I’m done with this lecture. I’m gettin’ out of this car and going back inside . . . and I don’t want you to follow me, ya hear?”
He reached to touch her arm and she pushed away. “You’re not thinkin’ clearly.”
“How can ya know that?”
“Well, I’m not blind, Elizabeth.” He paused. “Sharing an apartment with men?”
She looked away, then noticed Amelia coming this way. “So, are ya courting her now? Guess Marissa didn’t mean so much to ya after all.”
That stung hard. “You know me better than that.”
“Do I?” She reached for the door handle. “It’s your fault, ya know. You never should’ve let me drive your car that day last winter.” She threw it right in his face. “You gave me my first taste of freedom . . . and the world.”
“Lizzie . . . please.”
“I can’t believe you came here. I really can’t. After all these months . . .” She sighed loudly. “What took ya so long?”
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