Amish Refuge

by Debby Giusti

  Emma’s voice could be heard calling goodbye to Daniel, but all Miriam thought about was Abram’s touch and the beat of his heart when she had rested her head on his chest yesterday.

  His fingers dropped to her lips. “It looks like a bit of sugary apple caught at the side of your mouth. That’s how I could tell you were hard at work. The pie I tasted was delicious, so I thank you for preparing it for me.”

  “I... I...”

  She could hardly think of anything to say. Her mind kept remembering when she had been wrapped in his arms and wished to be there once again. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about what had happened on the mountain road and that a man with a vile tattoo was prowling the countryside looking for her.

  Emma pushed open the kitchen door.

  Abram stepped away, leaving Miriam overcome with a sense of loss.

  He smiled at his sister and pointed to Miriam. “Rebecca’s pies—” he started to say.

  Miriam’s breath caught. Rebecca? Abram had confused her for his wife. A pain stabbed her heart.

  Why was she drawn to this man who was so totally different from her? A man who still loved a woman who had died some years earlier, a woman whose clothing Miriam was wearing?

  Any interest Abram might have showed to her was really directed to his wife. He was confused by the dress. He wasn’t touching Miriam’s lips, he was yearning to touch his wife’s.

  “Excuse me.” Miriam wiped her hands on the nearby towel. “I need to go to my room.”

  Seems Miriam had followed in her mother’s footsteps. Her mother had trusted no one and wandered from town to town looking for acceptance that she’d never seemed to find. Her negative outlook on life had caused Miriam to keep a tight hold on her own heart, as well. She hadn’t allowed anyone to come close, especially not a man who put her world into a spin.

  “Are you all right?” Emma asked as she followed her up the stairs. “You appeared upset when Abram mentioned Rebecca’s name. Her pies were never as golden brown as ours today, which was the point he was trying to make.”

  Miriam knew the truth. Abram had confused her for his wife.

  “I’m tired, Emma. If you don’t mind, I’d like to lie down for a bit.”

  “Yes, of course. You have been through so much.”

  After Abram’s slip of the tongue, Miriam needed to make plans to leave Willkommen and head to Atlanta. But how would she contact Hannah? If they couldn’t connect by phone, Miriam might be able to contact her via email. To do that, she would need a computer.

  “You told me that the Englisch buy your baked goods,” she said before Emma left the room.

  The Amish woman nodded. “I have some regular customers who I count on weekly.”

  “Do any of them live nearby?”

  “The Rogers’s house is about four miles from here. They have a standing order of two loaves of bread, a pie and two dozen cookies each Saturday.”

  “Their house is situated along the road to Willkommen?”

  “Actually, it sits back from the road. I used to take the route that crosses over the river. The bridge is not strong enough for an automobile, but a carriage can pass there. Although sometimes a horse can get spooked.”

  “That’s the road that passes in front of your house?”

  Emma nodded. “But Abram is worried about our safety, and he does not like the water.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Emma shrugged. “I should not bring it up.”

  “But you mentioned it.”

  “I did, although I should not talk about Abram.” She bit her lip and sighed. “His best friend when he was fourteen was an Englischer. Trevor was older and drove his father’s car too fast. Abram was with him. There was a sharp curve and the car skidded off the road and into the lake.”

  Miriam could see the pain wash over Emma’s face. “What happened to the Englisch boy?”

  “Abram saved himself but—” Emma pulled in a stiff breath. “He could not save Trevor.”

  “I’m sorry, Emma.”

  “Yah, it was hard on all of us. Abram especially.”

  Miriam could only imagine how tragic the drowning had been.

  “The accident happened in Tennessee, but the memory returns whenever Abram is around any body of water. For that reason, he stays away from the river and the bridge and, although a longer journey, we take the other fork in the road. While it causes us to backtrack, Abram does not have to worry about the bridge.” Emma’s face brightened. “I have an idea. You can go with me to the Rogers’s house on Saturday. They are good people. You will like them.”

  “Do they have a computer?”

  “I do not know about a computer, but I am sure they have a phone so you can call your sister.”

  By Saturday, Miriam hoped to be in Atlanta. She looked down at the blue dress she wore and brushed a smudge of white flour from the skirt. “I must wash my clothes, Emma. You need to show me where you placed them.”

  “I will wash next week. It is no trouble. Your things are in the barn, soaking since they were spotted with blood.”

  “You don’t need to do my wash. Just tell me where you keep the soap or laundry detergent.”

  “You will see them near the wash barrel.”

  In addition to clean clothes, Miriam also needed money for her bus ticket. “I’ll rest now and maybe go to the barn later,” she said as a plan took hold.

  “You will take the evening meal with us?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll come downstairs later to help you prepare the food.”

  “Only if you feel strong enough. Perhaps I tired you too much with baking the pies.”

  “Absolutely not. I enjoyed the work.”

  “And I enjoyed the company.”

  Glancing out the window, Emma smiled. “I see Isaac is coming to visit.”

  Miriam stared over the Amish woman’s shoulder and nudged Emma playfully. “He probably wants to thank you for the pie.”

  “Perhaps. Although I suspect he wants to talk to Abram. They are alike, those two, although in different ways.”

  Miriam raised her brow. “Meaning?”

  “Isaac knows he must work within the Amish way, but he uses some other resources in his business.” No doubt seeing Miriam’s confusion, she added, “A dairy needs refrigeration if he is to sell to the Englisch.”

  “You mean Isaac uses electricity?”

  “Yah, it is allowed, but the power runs only to the dairy barn. It is verboten—not allowed—in the house.”

  “The bishop sets the rules?” Miriam asked.

  “We live by the Ordnung, but each bishop leads his own community. Some communities and some bishops are less strict in adhering to the old ways.”

  “Does Abram have electricity in his woodshop?”

  Emma shook her head. “Abram would not, but he does use diesel fuel to run some of his woodworking machines. Diesel is allowed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Some members of our community came from Ethridge, Tennessee, years ago. You have heard of that town?”

  Miriam nodded. “Abram mentioned it.”

  “Ethridge is made up mainly of Old Order Amish. They live as the Amish have since first coming to America. They do not have running water in their homes as we do here. Nor does anyone, even those doing business with the Englisch, use propane. Diesel motors are allowed, but that is all.”

  “Abram said part of the community left Ethridge and moved here.”

  Emma nodded. “A new community usually develops when a group of families have like ideas about the way they will live. Sometimes they move to find farmland, as Abram did.”

  “So your community is less conservative compared to Ethridge, where you grew up?”

  “Excep
t Abram. He remains very conservative.”

  “And his wife?” Miriam asked. “How did she feel?”

  Emma smiled sweetly. “She loved Abram. What could she say?”

  A knock sounded at the door below.

  “It is Isaac.” Emma tugged a strand of hair back from her face and hurried into the hallway. “I need to welcome him.”

  Emma’s feelings for Isaac were obvious. Although Miriam had never loved a man, she had hoped to find someone someday. Someone who would walk through life at her side. Both of them in step and working together.

  But love would have to wait. As much as she admired Abram and found his home and way of life peaceful, Miriam would never fit into the Amish community. Or could she?

  * * *

  Abram studied the wood he had stacked against the wall of his workshop. In times past, he had been considered a master craftsman. The work had brought joy and a steady income from the items he had sold in town. But that was before Rebecca had died.

  He touched the arm of the hickory bentwood rocker he had only begun to make. For the last three years, it had remained a visible reminder of his deceased wife.

  Deep in his heart, Abram knew Rebecca would have wanted him to find someone else. Emma had hinted at the fact several times. But he did not deserve happiness after what had happened. He had never verbalized his thoughts to his sister nor did he give voice to the question that troubled him now.

  Why would he search for someone to replace Rebecca when his own stubbornness had claimed her life?

  Yet ever since Miriam had appeared on his doorstep, he wondered if there could be something—or someone—else that would fill the void Rebecca’s passing had left.

  Abram shook his head with regret. He didn’t need joy. He needed redemption. His father was right. He had been too easily taken off task as a youth. He would not let himself be thrown off course now.

  The door to his shop opened and Isaac Beiler entered. Tall and stocky, the dairyman dipped his head in greeting. “Emma said I would find you here.”

  Abram left the rocker and stepped closer to his neighbor. “I thought you came for another pie.” He was hard-pressed to stop the smile that tugged at his lips and he was glad when Isaac’s eyes responded with twinkling good humor.

  “Emma is always generous with her baked goods,” Isaac said. “She is generous with her heart, as well. She invited Daniel and me to join you for supper this evening.”

  Isaac’s wife had died thirteen months earlier. “Emma sees you losing weight, my friend. You and Daniel both need a good meal to fill your bellies. I do not know how you manage the dairy and the household. I would waste away if Emma were not living with me.”

  “She is a good woman.” The neighbor rubbed his beard. “With Daniel, my thought was always to find a mother for my son.”

  “Yet in all these months, you have not found anyone?” Abram questioned what they both knew to be true.

  Isaac sighed. “There is a woman, although I am not sure how she feels about me. With the dairy and raising my son, I have little time to court.”

  “Ah, but Isaac, you must make the time.”

  “By adding more hours to the day?” the neighbor smiled ruefully.

  “There is always time for love.”

  “You are not one to follow your own advice, Abram.”

  The two men chuckled, but their joviality turned serious with Isaac’s next comment.

  “Daniel told me about the lady who has come into your home. I questioned Emma. She hesitated to tell me about the visitor until I mentioned seeing the sheriff’s car on the road. She said the woman—Miriam—was injured and you gave her refuge. Your sister is worried about you, Abram.”

  “Worried? In what way?”

  “That you do not realize what could come of this. Did you tell your uncle about the visitor?”

  “I tried, but he needed to get back to town and did not have time to hear me out.”

  “What about the bishop? He has time to listen.”

  Abram did not want the bishop or any of the elders involved. The fewer people who knew about Miriam, the better. At least until Samuel returned to Willkommen.

  “The bishop provides wise guidance,” Abram explained. “But I do not need his counsel at this time.”

  He hoped Isaac would be satisfied with his answer, but the neighbor pushed on.

  “Deputy Idler stopped by the dairy yesterday and told me about the abandoned car and the older woman’s body found in the trunk. The timing makes me think your houseguest is somehow involved. Have you questioned her?”

  Although Abram would rather not discuss the newcomer, he knew Isaac could be trusted.

  “A man held her captive. He is on the loose. When Samuel returns to Willkommen Miriam will tell him what happened. Until then, she must remain hidden, and the best place to do that is here with me.”

  “She wears Amish clothing.”

  “Because she has nothing else to wear. The bishop would not want her going without clothing.”

  Isaac shrugged. “He would not.”

  “Once Samuel returns, the problem will be resolved. You understand I am acting out of concern for the woman. She was hurt and injured. I had to take her in. Is Emma unsettled by her presence?”

  “She likes Miriam, but as I mentioned, she is worried about you.”

  “Emma worries too much. I am fine, Isaac.”

  “And what happens if the man who held her captive comes after you or after Emma? I do not need to remind you, Abram. The Amish way is one of peace, not conflict.”

  “If a fox is killing chickens in your coup, Isaac, do you stand by and watch? Or do you go after the fox?”

  Isaac lowered his gaze and kicked at a mound of sawdust on the floor. “Be careful, my friend.”

  “We will be fine.”

  Glancing up, Isaac nodded. “Then I will return home now. Daniel and I will see you this evening.”

  After his neighbor left, Abram continued to think about Isaac’s comments.

  Was Abram making good choices concerning Miriam? He wanted to keep her safe. Hiding her on his farm was the right decision, but Emma was worried. Was she worried about their safety or Abram’s heart?

  SEVEN

  Peering from her bedroom window, Miriam spied the Amish neighbor leaving Abram’s workshop. He joined Emma at the front of the house where she was talking to Daniel. The young boy played with a stick that he threw in the air and then ran to catch. Bear sauntered around the corner of the house as if wanting to join the fun.

  Even from her lofty vantage point, Miriam noticed the warmth in Emma’s expression as she laughed with the child. Hopefully, the dairy farmer and his son would continue to occupy Emma’s attention for some time.

  Miriam turned her gaze to the workshop. From what she knew of Abram’s routine, he would hopefully stay put for at least an hour or two.

  With no time to lose, Miriam hurried down the stairway and out the kitchen door. She wrapped the black cape around her shoulders and raced along the path she and Abram had walked her first morning on the farm.

  Miriam’s car had bogged down near the river just past the edge of Abram’s property. Surely the police had finished their search and, unless they had hauled the vehicle off to Petersville, she expected to find her car exactly where she had left it.

  Thoughts of her mother’s body found in the trunk made her sick with grief. She fisted her hands and forced the thoughts to flee. She couldn’t mourn her mother now. She had to think of finding her sister, Sarah, and getting to Atlanta.

  Still hoping to find her cell, Miriam kept her gaze on the edges of the path she walked and only occasionally glanced over her shoulder to make certain no one was following her. She didn’t want Abram to stop her.

  Sh
e needed to leave the area and that required a bus ticket, which meant she had to retrieve the emergency stash of money from her car. The police would have searched her vehicle but, how thoroughly, she wasn’t sure. Even if they had looked at the maintenance manual in her glove compartment, hopefully they hadn’t riffled through the pages.

  A stiff wind blew across the pasture. She pulled the cape more tightly around her shoulders and increased her pace. She didn’t have time to dawdle. Miriam had to retrieve the money from her car and return to the farmhouse before Abram or Emma noticed her absence.

  All the while she walked, she listened for the sound of a car engine, knowing she would have to hide if she saw Serpent’s dark sedan driving along the mountain road. To her relief, all she heard was the caw of crows flying overhead.

  Nearing the fence that edged Abram’s property, Miriam hurried forward to the open gate through which she must have passed the night of her escape. Leaving the pasture, she looked back at the farmhouse still visible in the distance. Once again she thought of the light shining in the window that had been her beacon of hope when she was trying to elude Serpent.

  Turning her back on the peaceful scene, Miriam scurried deeper into the underbrush where the thick growth of pine trees mixed with hardwoods blocked the sunlight. The temperature dropped and the sharp bramble forced her to slow her pace.

  Carefully she picked her way around the prickly bushes that caught at her dress. Two nights earlier, she hadn’t worried about thorns or sharp branches. She’d only thought of staying alive.

  Skirting a particularly large bush, she inadvertently stepped on a twig that broke underfoot with a loud crack. The sound seemed amplified in the dense forest. She stopped behind a gathering of bushes to catch her breath and listen. Surely no one was close by, but she had to be careful.

  As much as she wanted to keep moving forward, an internal, niggling voice cautioned her to bide her time. The forest stilled but another sound filled her ears. Rushing water.

  Peering through the underbrush, she spied the river. The moving water was what she had heard while being held in the cabin and brought back memories of the hateful man who had held her captive.