Anger welled up inside him. “Excuse me for not feeling blessed at the moment.”
She took a step toward him. “Well, you should feel blessed. You are alive. You are strong. You have a roof over your head and food to eat. If you whine about the things you do not have then you are ungrateful for all you have.”
Why was she trying to rile him? He said, “I have all these things because of the charity of others. I did not earn it.”
She folded her arms and raised her eyebrow. “And that is not a blessing?”
Rising from the chair, he turned to the window. Bracing his arms on the sill he stared outside. “I don’t want to be grateful to others. I need to be in charge of my own life.”
She moved to stand close behind him. “Then pride is your sin, John Doe. The Amish live humble lives. We accept that we are nothing without God.”
John’s anger drained away. He understood better than most what being nothing felt like. Looking over his shoulder at Karen, he asked, “Do you think that’s why God is doing this to me? To humble me? What kind of person was I to deserve this?”
Karen bit her lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to hold her and feel her arms around him. As much as her compassion meant to him that wasn’t what he longed for. He wanted more.
He wanted her to care about him as a man, not as an emotional cripple in need of charity.
She looked down and fixed her gaze on her clenched hands. “We cannot know God’s plan for us. It is beyond human understanding. We can only accept what trials come to us secure in the knowledge that God is with us always. He sent His only son to die for our sins. He does not abandon us. We lean on His mercy and grace so that we may not stumble on the righteous path He sets before us.”
“I wish I had your faith, Karen. I wish I believed in mercy and grace.”
She did look at him then. “You have only to open your heart to God, John. All the rest will follow.”
The soft expression in her eyes gave him hope. She did care for him, he was sure of it.
“How can I doubt God’s goodness when He brought me to you.” He reached for her as he stepped closer.
She took a quick step away. “John, we can’t—I can’t. How do I say this? There must be no closeness between us.”
Her retreat cut him like a blade. Lowering his hand, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin, painful line. Finally, he drew a deep breath and nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry if I offended you with unwelcome attention.”
“There is nothing to forgive. I am your friend.”
How could such simple words sound so lame?
What had he expected? She was a devout Amish woman. She would never consider stepping outside the boundaries of her faith with someone like him. She offered her friendship. He would be content with that. It was more than he deserved.
At the sound of Eli’s footsteps coming down the hall, John quickly composed himself. He fashioned a reassuring smile for her. “I couldn’t find a better friend if I searched the world over,” he said, meaning every word.
Karen blinked hard to hold back her tears. They would have to wait until later, when she was alone and no one could hear her sobs. They would be her punishment for wounding John. In spite of his words, she knew she had wounded him.
At every turn she had sought to guard him from harm, to ease his way, to be the one person he could turn to. Her foolish need to be his rescuer had led to this affection for her. How could it be otherwise? Perhaps in her heart she even wanted such affection, but it wasn’t right for either of them.
She had to let John find his own path and his own strength. The only way to do that was to push him out into the world.
“Your refrigerator is working now,” Eli announced from the doorway.
John slipped the chair in place under the desk. The sudden silence seemed to radiate guilt. Karen quickly picked up the laundry basket and walked out the door without looking back. She had never felt so ashamed of her own weakness.
That night she prayed for strength and the courage to harden her heart against the attraction she felt for John. Confused and frightened, she knew only God’s help could save her from her own foolishness.
If John recovered his memory she could let him go knowing he had people and a home waiting for him. But while he was still lost and alone, she couldn’t turn her back on him. She couldn’t.
On Sunday morning she accompanied her family to church services and prayed earnestly for strength and guidance. The saving grace of the weekend was having the children underfoot to minimize the risk of finding herself alone with John.
On Sunday afternoon, Sarah Wyse arrived with Sally Yoder to sketch a picture of John. Sally seemed oddly ill at ease. As John posed for his portrait, he tried to engage her in conversation, but he received only the briefest of replies in return.
When Sally was done, John thanked her, then left the room saying he had work to do. Sally began to put away her materials.
Karen picked up the sketch. “This is goot work, Sally. God has given you a wondrous talent. I know John is grateful for your help.”
“I must do all I can to aid him.” When Sally looked up Karen was surprised to see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Sally, do you know who John is?”
Glancing from Sarah to Karen, Sally shook her head.
“I don’t. I wish I did, but I don’t.” Before Karen could question her further, Sally grabbed her sketchbook and hurried outside.
Karen and Sarah exchanged puzzled looks. Sarah said, “She is young and she has a tender heart. This outsider’s injury and burdens touch us all.”
Nodding, Karen let the subject drop unwilling to discuss her own feelings for John.
Sarah gathered her cloak and gloves. “I promise to have copies of this made and post them around town. Perhaps it will bring someone forward, but I hope John isn’t holding his breath.”
Karen knew she would be holding hers. She no longer prayed that someone would recognize him. These days, she prayed only to keep her heart and her faith intact.
During the next week the first heavy snowfall of winter arrived, coating the fields and farms in a flawless, glittering white blanket. Winter was tightening its grip on the Ohio countryside as Christmas loomed only weeks away.
In spite of her determination to stifle her affection for John, her eyes were drawn constantly to wherever he was. When she was in the kitchen, she kept watch on the corrals beside the barn where John, under the direction of her father, began training the little bay mare named Jenny and One-Way, her father’s great hope for their financial recovery.
To Karen’s surprise, her father appeared to enjoy working with John. She often heard them deep in conversations about horse care and training methods and occasionally saw them laughing together. If John had been Amish she would have been thrilled to see the relationship growing between the two. But he wasn’t Amish and no matter how much Eli liked him, he would never accept him as a suitor for Karen.
Anna and Noah had been delighted when they learned John would be staying. Jacob kept his opinion to himself, but it was easy for Karen to see he was upset. Especially after he learned Eli was letting John train the horses. Karen would have been happier if Jacob had expressed his unhappiness in words. Instead, he became withdrawn and secretive.
On Monday morning, Karen came down early to start breakfast and caught Jacob sneaking into the house just before dawn. Staring at his disheveled clothes, she asked, “Jacob, what have you been doing?”
“Nothing.” He avoided looking at her and hurried up to his room.
Amish teenagers, especially boys, were expected to rebel against the strict rules they were raised with. She held her tongue, but decided to keep a closer watch on her brother. He was growing up too fast for her liking.
As the days passed, Karen began to relax. There had been no repeat of her closeness with John. Perhaps his initial attraction to her had worn off. She coul
d only hope so. In spite of her prayers her feelings had only grown stronger.
John went out daily to visit other farms and to look for work. She knew he stopped frequently in Hope Springs to check the missing-persons website he’d told her about. In a way, it was hard to watch him go out into the world without her help, but she knew it was what he needed to do.
In the evenings, the family gathered in the sitting room after supper. Tonight, as had become the norm, Noah and John were engaged in a board game. Eli and Jacob were reading while Anna played with her doll on the windowsill.
Karen worked on her seemingly endless pile of mending as she covertly watched John. He seemed so at home among them. He was good with the little ones, especially Noah. John would make a fine father someday.
At that thought, she turned her mind elsewhere. Down that path lay only heartache. Glancing at Anna, Karen frowned. The child had both hands pressed against the frosty windowpane. As Karen watched, Anna glanced over her shoulder, then crept up behind Noah and put her hands on the back of his neck.
“Ach!” He jerked away, and she broke into loud giggles.
“’Sis kald heit.” Anna extended her hands toward John.
He pulled away in mock terror. “What does that mean?”
Noah shivered as he rubbed the back of his neck. “She said, ‘It is cold today,’ but what she means is she’s a sneaky jerk.”
“Noah,” Eli chided. “Do not call your sister names. Anna, do not trouble your brother.”
The siblings made sour faces at each other when Eli returned to his reading.
“What is this in Pennsylvania Dutch?” John patted his head.
“Your kobb,” Noah replied.
“And this?” John pulled up a lock of hair.
“Hoah,” Anna answered quickly.
John repeated the word then held up his hand. “What do you call this?”
“Hand,” Noah said before Anna could.
John shook his head at the boy. “No, come on. What’s the Amish word for hand?”
Noah and Anna fell into a fit of giggles. Even Eli gave a little chuckle. John glanced at Karen, a questioning look on his face. She stifled her mirth at his confusion. “The Amish word for hand is hand, John.”
He began laughing, too. “At least I don’t have to learn all new words to learn Amish. That should make it easier. Give me another that’s the same.”
“English.” Jacob’s tone made the word sound like an insult as he rose and walked out of the room.
Anna shook her head. “It’s Englisch. That one’s close but it’s not the same. Fox, that’s the same.”
Eli laid down his book. “Bushel.”
“Blind,” Karen said, racking her brain for more identical words.
“Land,” Anna supplied one more.
“What I need is a teacher.” John was looking at Karen when he said it. She caught a glimpse of longing in his eyes, but he looked away so quickly she knew he was trying to hide it from her.
Sadness crept into her chest. They were both struggling to mask their true feelings. How long could they keep up this charade?
Anna said, “I will be your teetshah. You can use my schoolbooks.”
John smiled at Anna, but Karen saw the effort it took. Her heart broke for him all over again.
On a Sunday morning nearly a month after his arrival at the farm John watched the Imhoff family leave for church from the window of the grandfather house kitchen. For a moment he was tempted to go with them, but he wasn’t sure an English person would be welcome.
He had learned from Anna, his new and devoted teacher of all things Amish, that the Amish had no church buildings. They held their services in the homes of members rotating the services from house to house every other week.
He’d also learned the Imhoffs wouldn’t be back until early afternoon as a meal always followed the services. As far as he was concerned, that left him with far too much time on his hands. He didn’t like being alone.
Had he always been that way? Or was it a new condition brought on by his trauma?
Picking up his Bible, he read for an hour, absorbing the words and trying to see how they applied to his own life. For a while his restless spirit was calmed, but eventually he closed the book and started looking for something else to do.
His options were limited. On Sunday the library in Hope Springs would be closed. He’d already made several trips into town to check the NamUs website, but he hadn’t found anyone looking for a man of his description. The stories in the news and on the website about loved ones who’d vanished without a trace were as depressing as not finding information about himself. How could so many people disappear? How could he be one of them?
Slipping into his coat, he bundled up against the cold and headed out to the barn. He’d been unable to find work yet and so had spent more time training the horses than they really needed but it was something he enjoyed.
When he opened the door, a gray tomcat, one of the dozen or so that kept the rodent population under control, sat in the center aisle licking his paw. Music started playing. John heard the tinkling sounds of a waltz as if it were coming from a music box.
A sharp pain stabbed his temple. He squeezed his eyes shut. Suddenly, he was in a sunlit room with a large window. A white cat lay curled on a window-seat cushion in a patch of sunlight. As John watched, the animal stood, stretched with lazy feline grace, then jumped to the floor. Once there, it padded over to sit beside the front door. John heard a key in the lock. He sucked in a breath knowing the door was about to open. Blind dread filled his mind.
A loud whinny erased the scene.
John found himself staring at the empty center aisle of the Imhoff barn. The music was gone. He stumbled forward until he reached One-Way’s stall. There, he leaned against the door drawing in harsh gulps of air to fill his starving lungs.
“Are you okay?” The tentative question came from overhead. John looked up to see Jacob staring at him from the hayloft. He heard the sound of footsteps moving away, but he couldn’t see anyone else.
“Not really.” Closing his eyes, John willed his racing heart to slow. The searing pain in his head died away bit by bit.
“What’s the matter with you?”
John’s first thought was to say nothing, but he stopped himself. Why lie to the boy? He began massaging his temples with his fingertips. “Sometimes I get memory flashes. When I do it hurts.”
Jacob looked skeptical. “Did you remember who you are?”
“I never remember anything that will help me. I know this is weird, but did you hear music just now?”
Jacob sat on the edge of the opening and let his feet dangle, sending a shower of straw onto John’s head. “What did you remember?”
Brushing the straw from his hair, John said, “I remembered a white cat sitting in the window. I remember the sound of a music box. Nothing that helps me figure out who I am. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever know.”
Hearing a noise, John looked up to see Jacob lower himself from the hayloft floor. He hung for a second by his hands then dropped lightly down beside John. Jacob adjusted his black hat and said, “You should go back to the English world where you belong.”
As Jacob turned and sauntered toward the door, John caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. “Who else was up there with you?”
Jacob didn’t reply. It seemed he wasn’t about to rat on his friends.
John yelled after him, “Why aren’t you at church?”
“Why aren’t you?” came Jacob’s reply. He walked out of the barn without looking back.
John muttered to himself, “Because I don’t know if I belong in church. I don’t know where God wants me.”
Opening One-Way’s stall, John snapped a lead to his halter and went to lead the young horse outside to the exercise corral. As he passed by Molly’s stall, he glanced in. The mare stood in the corner, her head drooping and flecks of foam speckling her chest.
Tying up One-Way, John stepp
ed into the stall with Molly. She still bore the sweaty marks of her harness. It was odd because the family had used a different horse to pull the buggy that morning.
John glanced in the direction Jacob had gone. The boy shouldn’t have left Molly in this condition. Annoyed with the thoughtless teenager, John quickly curried the mare and walked her until she was cooled down completely.
When he was finished, he took One-Way out to the exercise pen and turned the horse loose. Folding his arms on the top rail, John watched the young horse pacing proudly around the ring.
It had been more than a month since John’s injury. Five full weeks without answers. He’d spent day after day searching his mind for things that were not there. Karen believed God had brought him here for a purpose. What purpose? The question circled his mind the way the horse circled the paddock.
John shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. In spite of his occasional flashbacks, his hopes of recovery faded with each passing day. He had to face the facts. What if he never recovered his memory, never found his past?
What if God had a reason for making him forget that past? What if his former life had been so terrible that he couldn’t face it? Perhaps his amnesia was a blessing and not a curse.
Could he accept that? Right now, right this minute, could he decide to stop searching?
Hadn’t he already found everything he needed here? This was a place where he could make a new life. As wild as it once seemed, he could have an Amish life.
Was this what God had in mind for him? Was that why He’d brought Karen into John’s life? To show him a devout, simple way to live with God at the center of everything?
John chewed the corner of his bottom lip. He was happy here. He felt he belonged here. Should he be asking for more than that?
In the beginning he’d prayed for any crumb of information about himself. Now, he knew giving up his past was the only way he could fashion a life Karen could find acceptable. Was he willing to do that?
Chapter Eleven
An Amish Christmas Page 11