Plain Protector

by Alison Stone

  “My mom loves her house. Her friends at church...”

  “You could think of all the reasons why it wouldn’t work, or you can just have a little faith.” Nick slipped in and sat next to her.

  Sarah nodded slowly.

  “It’s late. Why don’t you get some sleep?” He pushed to his feet. He kissed his sister’s cheek. “Thank you.” Then he turned to face Sarah. “We’ll go back to Buffalo in the morning and invite your mom to come home with you.”

  Sarah’s brow creased. “Don’t you have to work?”

  “I have the day off.”

  “Oh, okay.” She seemed hesitant, almost disappointed that she had run out of excuses. “But it won’t be her home.” Sarah’s voice was racked with worry.

  “I have a feeling your mom will consider home anywhere you are.”

  Sarah stood and touched his arm. “You’re a good man, Nick. Thank you.”

  EIGHT

  A few days after Christina’s suggestion that Sarah’s mom move to Apple Creek, she had. Now, Sarah’s mother had been here almost a week and seemed to be settling in, and Christina graciously managed her care. Sarah tried not to think of the reality of her mother’s situation and instead cherished each day.

  Tears burned the back of Sarah’s eyes. Wasn’t this what faith was all about? Trusting in God’s plan? Sarah collected the dishes from the kitchen table. She dumped the cereal from her mother’s partially eaten breakfast down the disposal.

  Nick kept watch every evening, usually arriving close to dark and leaving at dawn. Sarah guessed he didn’t want to impose on her time with her mother.

  Through the window above the sink, she watched Mary Ruth take Sarah’s mother by the elbow and help guide her down the back steps. Her mother had everyone, including Sarah, calling her Maggie, and Sarah was seeing a side to her mother that she never had. Her mother—Maggie—had interests that extended beyond being Sarah’s mother. It shouldn’t have surprised Sarah, but it did. The two of them had developed such a strong mother-daughter bond after her father died that it was hard to separate the person from that of her mother.

  Maggie had taken to strolls around the property, surprising for a woman who rarely ventured out of her own home. Maybe it was because she was always too busy cooking, cleaning and otherwise tending to a house. Things she had struggled to do of late.

  Other than the weight of her mother’s illness, Sarah had been able to take somewhat of a breath. There hadn’t been any other “incidents,” and if Jimmy did know where she was, he probably would have sought her out once her mother disappeared.

  Yet, all had been quiet.

  Maybe Jimmy believed the false story they had planted that her mother moved to Florida with Sarah’s aunt.

  Maybe it had been the foolish youth trying to mess with her. She had another Sunday meeting in a few days. Two weeks from the original episode. She debated bringing it up for fear she’d push those away who needed her most.

  Sarah put the last dish in the dishwasher and dried her hands on the towel hanging over the handle of the oven. She was growing fond of the quiet routine of the days since her mother had arrived. She had reluctantly rescheduled clients, but it needed to be done. She wished she could bottle this time.

  Sarah slipped her feet into her shoes and ran across the yard to join Mary Ruth and her mother as they strolled the perimeter of the yard, one side bordered by Apple Creek, the body of water after which the town was named.

  “Beautiful morning,” Sarah said. Birds chirped and the wind rustled through the ever-growing corn.

  “Mary Ruth has been sharing tidbits about the Amish life,” her mother said, her words wrapped around little gasps for air. A condition that was sure to get worse.

  “What have you learned?” Sarah smiled.

  “Well, I’m amazed that the Amish don’t go to school past eighth grade.”

  “Why would we need an education when most of us end up right here on the farm?” If Sarah hadn’t been watching Mary Ruth’s face, she might have missed the flicker of regret.

  “Teenage Englischers—” Sarah used the word the Amish would for people like herself “—would love to drop out of school.” She had tried to lighten the tone, but it only made Mary Ruth more thoughtful.

  “I guess people don’t realize what they have.”

  Sarah’s gaze drifted from her mother to Mary Ruth. “I’ve never heard you talk about school.”

  Mary Ruth shrugged, the straps of her bonnet dangling near her shoulders. “Ever since my brother hopped the fence and then I called things off with Ruben, I’ve been thinking...”

  An uneasy feeling dimmed the edges of the glorious late-summer morning.

  “I always wished I had gone to college,” Maggie said. “But money was tight growing up. So, I went to work.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if she never had a choice and the path of her life had been predetermined.

  It broke Sarah’s heart how her mother spoke of her past in the way older people did when they were coming to the end of the road. Her mother, by rights, should have had many more years on earth. Many more years.

  “I suppose we’ve all had regrets,” Sarah said, stuffing the tips of her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans.

  Her mother stopped and turned to face her. “Don’t go feeling sorry for yourself since Jimmy turned out to be a no-good creep.” Her mother grabbed Sarah’s arm and gently shook her. “It’s not your fault.”

  Sarah pressed her lips together, afraid to speak. Afraid her voice would tremble. Afraid she’d start crying and never stop. And she was tired of every conversation gravitating back to her. This was about Mary Ruth.

  “Have you ever considered getting your GED?” Sarah asked. “It’s the equivalent of a high school diploma.”

  “I’m not sure I’m book smart.” A soft smile curved the corners of Mary Ruth’s mouth. “Not like you.”

  Sarah shook her head. “Don’t dismiss yourself.”

  “I’m not,” Mary Ruth said assuredly, then she got a gleam in her eye. “I’m glad you came to Apple Creek. I’m sorry it was under these circumstances.”

  Impulsively, Sarah reached over and gave Mary Ruth a hug. The young Amish girl stiffened, then returned the embrace. Sarah was the first to pull away. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  Mary Ruth waved her hand. “The Amish aren’t big on displays of affection.”

  Both Mary Ruth and Sarah turned when they heard her mother laugh. “Sarah was never the most affectionate person, either.” She chuckled again, a delightful sound.

  They reached a bench at the far corner of the yard where the Zooks’ property ended at the creek. The water wound along the edge of a path bordering thick foliage. Nick had been kind enough to build the bench, specifically so Maggie could rest during her walks. Sarah’s heart warmed at the simple kindness of this man. A man she had grown to learn was filled with much kindness and compassion, a far cry from her ex.

  Her mother sat and ran her hands down the thighs of her jeans. “I feel rejuvenated here.” She looked up with radiant eyes and reached for Sarah’s hand and pulled her down next to her. “I’ll never regret my coming to Apple Creek. I had held onto the house in Buffalo because it was my house with your father, but I can’t turn back the hands of time. Your father’s been gone a long time, and without you there, it didn’t feel like home.”

  Sarah bowed her head, afraid to let her mother see the tears in her eyes. “You shouldn’t have had to leave your home, especially not now.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to leave your home, either. But you’re doing well here in Apple Creek. Helping people. And I feel like I’m on a vacation. I don’t have to look around the house and feel bad about all the things I can no longer do—gardening, cleaning, cooking. I’m enjoying my time here. All tho
se chores left me feeling exhausted.” Her voice cracked over the last words. Her mother lifted her hand and cupped Sarah’s cheek. “We’re blessed to have this time together. Never regret that.”

  Sarah lifted her eyes to meet her mother’s gaze. They both had tears in their eyes. Sarah hugged her mom and held on tight, memorizing this moment. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Sarah turned to see Mary Ruth had tears in her eyes, too. Sarah laughed. “Look at us, a sorry bunch.”

  Mary Ruth shrugged and glanced over her shoulder toward the barn next door. “Your mom said she’d like to see the horses.”

  Her mother nodded. “City girl that I am, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve come up close and personal with a horse.”

  “Really?” Mary Ruth said, not hiding the surprise from her voice.

  “It must sound strange from someone who lives on the farm and uses them for transportation.”

  “It’s funny. When I was younger, I used to watch cars go whizzing down the street and wonder where they were going. I’d daydream about the world outside. But that’s not the Amish way,” she quickly added.

  “We all wonder about the what-ifs...” her mother’s voice had a distant quality to it. “But—” Maggie’s voice brightened “—I don’t want my Sarah to ever wonder what if she had taken a chance on that handsome Deputy Jennings.”

  “Mom!” Sarah admonished playfully, suddenly envisioning Nick’s warm brown eyes, his broad shoulders, his unshaven jaw. “He’s just being nice.” She tried to shake the image.

  “You could use someone nice.” Her mother grabbed the arm of the bench and pushed herself to a standing position. Sarah resisted the urge to jump up and help every time her mother did something. She knew her mother wouldn’t want to be fussed over every second.

  “Deputy Jennings is a very nice man. I’ve noticed him drive by quite often when he’s working.”

  “He’s doing his job, making sure I’m safe. I appreciate that he left his truck here in case we need transportation.”

  “You can make all the excuses you want, Sarah Lynn. But don’t let your past dictate your future.”

  Sarah smiled, but didn’t say anything.

  “Can I see those horses?” her mother asked Mary Ruth.

  “Sure. I saw little Patience playing by the barn. She’d be happy to show you her family’s animals.” It went without saying that Mary Ruth hoped she wouldn’t run into Ruben.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go in and do some paperwork.”

  Her mother waved her hand. “Go, go. We’ll be fine.”

  Sarah watched her mother walk slowly next to Mary Ruth. She took comfort in knowing that her mother did seem content, despite her health and relocation.

  Thank You, Lord.

  Sometimes the simplest prayer was one of gratitude.

  Thank You.

  * * *

  When Sarah reached the back door, she heard her cell phone ringing. Nick had insisted she have one. He had registered it in his name and only a few trusted people had her number. She ran up the steps and into the house and grabbed the phone off the kitchen counter. She didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello,” came the quiet voice, “is this Sarah Lynn?” Not everyone knew her full name.

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, I got your name from the pastor at Apple Creek Community Church. He told me you might be able to help me...” The woman’s voice trailed off, and Sarah thought she heard her sniffle.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “No, I’m afraid my baby and I can’t afford food, and I’m worried.”

  “The church has a food pantry.”

  “I don’t have a car, and I’ve reached my wit’s end.”

  Sarah paced the kitchen, and as the woman explained her dire situation, Nick’s truck parked in the driveway came to mind.

  “What’s your name?”

  A long pause stretched over the line. “I’m Jade Johnston. I live on the old farm on Route 62 out past the Troyers’ garden nursery.”

  “Do you have food for your baby for today?”

  Sarah thought she heard a child cry in the background, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “I’m so stupid. I don’t know how I got myself in this situation. The baby’s always hungry.”

  “Is the baby still on formula?” Sarah’s mind raced.

  “No, no. The baby’s two.”

  “Okay.” Sarah thought about calling Nick, but he was working and he had done so much for her already.

  What could it hurt to help this woman? It would only take a few minutes, and she had the truck. She wouldn’t be walking along the road, exposed.

  “I’ll bring some groceries to you today. And then we’ll have to fill out some paperwork to make sure you and your baby have services until you get on your feet again.”

  “Oh, that would be great. Thank you.”

  Sarah ended the call, and something uneasy banded around her lungs. As she wrote a note to her mother and Mary Ruth and then climbed into Nick’s truck, she assured herself her feelings of unease stemmed from the woman’s desperate call and not her apprehension of driving out to an unfamiliar house alone.

  Sarah turned the key in the ignition, dismissing her anxiety as one of the hazards of being a social worker. Always cautious.

  * * *

  Nick always looked forward to his lunch break at the Apple Creek Diner. He parked his cruiser along the curb and strolled inside. He tipped his hat at the couple sitting in the booth by the window. The elderly pair seemed to have claimed that table as their own.

  Nick had grown up in Apple Creek. Despite his parents’ wealth, they had insisted on public education through high school. After he graduated, he joined the service. His parents, who understood the need to follow one’s passion, didn’t dissuade him from going into law enforcement, although they would have preferred a safer path.

  Nick had been back in Apple Creek a year, and he was still trying to get accustomed to the fact that everyone seemed to think they knew him. When most of them only knew that he was one of the Jennings’ kids who grew up in the big house on the escarpment. They didn’t truly know him.

  Anonymity didn’t exist in small towns.

  “Hello there, Nick.” Flo the waitress strolled over to his table. Point made. “We have chocolate cream pie and lemon meringue today.”

  “Oh, tough choice. Let me have a BLT for now, and I’ll give my dessert choice some careful consideration.” A slow smile crept across his face.

  Flo put in his order, then made her way back over to him. “I was surprised to see you pull up. I thought you might have had the day off or something.”

  Nick cocked his head in curiosity.

  “I saw your truck go by not more than ten minutes ago. Thought maybe you were headed out for another picnic with that pretty social worker I’ve heard you’ve been spending time with.”

  Nick blinked slowly and laughed. Truly nothing got past the residents of Apple Creek.

  “Shame about her mother. Curious that her mom would come to Apple Creek and Sarah didn’t move back to Buffalo to help her while she’s ill.”

  Apparently some rumors didn’t get circulated. Namely, the one about Sarah being stalked by her ex-boyfriend. “I left her the truck in case she wanted to go somewhere with her mom.”

  Flo patted his shoulder. “You really are a good guy—” she leaned in conspiratorially “—despite what some people say.”

  Nick shook his head. “I can only imagine what some people say.”

  “I think it’s a good thing you’re doing. Helping her. Before you came along she seemed lost.”

  The cook dinged the bell. Flo strolled over to get
his sandwich and returned, sliding the plate in front of him. “Have you decided on the pie?”

  Nick twisted his lips, as if it were a hardship to decide. “I’m feeling chocolate cream today.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll bring you a slice after you finish your sandwich.”

  The bells on the door chimed, and Flo walked away to seat a couple young men who were most likely taking summer classes on the nearby campus.

  Alone with his sandwich and his thoughts, Nick couldn’t help but wonder where Sarah was headed in his truck. She had seemed reluctant for him to leave it there, but he had insisted. He didn’t like the idea of her isolated with a sick mother and a potential stalker around. Even though that hadn’t been his intent, Sarah had told him she’d only use it in a true emergency.

  Nick’s heart sank. Had something happened?

  Nick grabbed his cell phone from his utility belt and stared at it a minute before dialing. He didn’t want Sarah to feel uncomfortable about using his truck—even if it was to do a grocery run—but a little voice in the back of his head nudged him to check in with her. To make sure she and her mother were okay. Sure, everything had been quiet recently, but that didn’t mean Jimmy wasn’t lying in wait.

  The thought sent renewed anger pulsing through his veins. He put down his sandwich and dialed Sarah’s number. He held his breath, waiting for her to answer.

  She answered, sounding like she had run to the phone.

  “Where are you?”

  Sarah gave her location before she paused midsentence and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  “Sarah! Sarah!” he yelled into the phone, but his pleas were only met with silence.

  NINE

  Sarah slowed the truck as it climbed the crest on Route 62. She’d passed the Troyers’ nursery about a half mile back and knew the farm where the woman called from for assistance had to be just ahead. Sarah wasn’t used to driving such a big vehicle and worried if she’d be able to navigate it up the driveway over a small wooden bridge over a ditch lining the country road. Many a drunk driver had ended up in a ditch along country roads in the dark of night.