She stopped, seeing as the man at the door was most likely not a patient. In fact, it was Elijah and he was dressed in Plain clothes and was clean-shaven. He looked so different that it had taken Hannah all of that time to realize who he was.
“I take it from the expression on your face that Abby didn’t tell you I was coming to call on you,” he said in a sort of apologetic tone.
“I—I um, no. She did not.” To call on me? Hannah was sure she had misunderstood. After all, her heart was beating so loudly she could barely manage to speak over the pounding. She must gain control of herself before she embarrassed herself yet again with him. “Abigail went to Mr. Hochenlooper’s. She’s not been gone long. I’m sure if you hurry you can catch her.”
Elijah removed his black hat and twirled it in his fingers. “Well, this is a lousy beginning if I have to explain more than once that I’ve come to call on you, Hannah Nolt. I have not come for a visit with my sister. I’ve come to see you and ask if you will take a ride with me on this fine night. I’ll have you home early. I already promised my sister I would. Not a minute past ten.”
Hannah frowned. Was he kidding? She had heard that he had come to stay with his father a few weeks ago. But for how long? Did he think he could simply change his clothes and shave and that would put them in the same world? “No, Elijah. I cannot. My place is here with the People.”
“And so is mine.” Elijah stepped forward and took her hand. “I’ve come home. I have my father’s blessing. I’ve been working in his mill. I bought the old abandoned Manders’ place and I’m fixing it up. It will take a while, but I’ve got time. I’m not to join the church until the spring. Until then, I can call on you and once I’ve taken my vows, well…if you’ll have me, Hannah Kurtz Nolt, I’d like to be your husband soon after.”
“But will you be happy giving up your police work? Will you be satisfied knowing you can never have children?”
“Once I saw you again, I knew there was only one place I could ever be happy,” he said, pulling her hand to his lips. “Beside you.”
Hannah smiled, every happy emotion swirling inside her so much so that she felt she might burst from it. “In that case, I’ll just fetch my wrap and leave your sister a note.”
Elijah smiled wide at her consent and grabbed her round the waist, lifting her and spinning her in a circle. “And might I start our outing with a sweet kiss?”
Hannah laughed with joy and threw her arms around his strong neck. He stopped spinning her and pulled her in to his lips for what she hoped to be the first of many, many kisses.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Threat of Darkness by Valerie Hansen!
Dear Reader,
The Amish people and their culture have long fascinated me. It started because I have relatives who live in Lancaster County. When I was a child, we visited the area every summer, staying with my aunt, while my uncle traveled as visiting professor in various German universities. Interestingly, it was also there my love and addiction to books germinated, for my uncle has a collection in his home that would rival any public library. I loved roaming through his stacks and wondering how a person could fit all those stories and facts into his brain. In fact, I often wondered how the floor of his study didn’t give way with the weight of all those books and go crashing into the living room below.
In any case, it was also during these visits that I had my first encounters with the Amish. I remember even then—at the ripe age of seven or eight—questioning the paradox of their self-sufficient communities surrounded by and yet cut off from the modern world around them. We could see them, talk to them, walk on their farms and buy their homemade products, but we couldn’t feel who they were. They belonged to another place all their own and even though we stood side by side, I had no connection and no understanding of them.
As I began to create this story, I had high hopes of uncovering their mysticism through my “adult” wisdom and being able to walk away from the experience of writing this novel with a complete and thorough knowledge of the Amish. But that did not happen. The more I peered into the Amish world, the more I realized its infinite complexities. Their lifestyles are called Plain and Simple, but as individuals, I believe, they are as unique and intricate as snowflakes.
To that end, I hope you enjoyed this visit to Willow Trace and the story of Hannah and Elijah, where big-city danger threatens the safe haven of this isolated (and fictitious) Amish community.
In Christ’s Love,
Kit
Questions for Discussion
When she was eighteen, do you think Hannah was right in choosing Peter and Jessica even when she still had strong romantic feelings for Elijah?
Elijah is a bit like the Prodigal Son in this story. Discuss the estranged relationship between Eli and his father. Why is it so hard for either of them to face each other? And to forgive each other?
Who is your favorite character in the story? Why?
What do you think will happen to Brittney once her stepfather is convicted? Do you think she truly wanted to become a part of the Amish community? Or do you think she will search for her mother? Maybe even return to the wrong side of the tracks? How would you end her story?
Do you think Elijah would have returned to Willow Trace eventually even if Hannah had not needed him? Why or why not?
Hannah is conflicted and afraid to discover the truth of what happened to Jessica. Which of her emotions do you feel would be the strongest—her guilt at feeling that she didn’t accept God’s will, her fear of learning that her stepdaughter had done something bad, her desire to know the truth or her grief?
Amish teens are often portrayed on TV and in literature as truly exploiting their freedoms in the time of Rumspringa. Discuss how accurate you believe this “Hollywood” image to be. Do you think in this story that Hannah should have been stricter with Jessica or that she did the right thing by trusting her stepdaughter to make wise choices? For any parent, where and when do we allow our kids to make their own mistakes?
What is your favorite scene in the book and why?
Amish strive to be separate from the world in a very physical sense by not having power lines or telephone lines connected to their homes. They do, however, in a few communities (not all) allow the use of cell phones and oil-powered electricity for certain, specific tasks. Discuss how technology has changed everyone’s lifestyles over the past twenty, ten and five years. Do you feel that technology makes your life simpler or more complicated?
How do you see Hannah and Elijah ten years into the future? How does Eli adapt to coming home? How does Hannah deal with his outside experiences?
Which aspects of Amish life do you find appealing? Which are not so appealing?
Hannah let go of Elijah when she was young, partly because she couldn’t part with Jessica, whom she’d raised as her own since birth, but also because she believed Elijah wanted a family that she couldn’t give him. Have you ever cared for a person whom you’ve had to let go? What were the circumstances? Did the relationship end on good terms? Why or why not?
If Hannah had told Elijah the truth about her infertility as a teen, do you think she and Elijah would have stayed together? If so, where would they have lived? Inside or outside the Amish community? Why?
Brittney thinks she wants to live in the Amish community. Elijah left the Amish community and then returned. Have you ever lived in a different culture? For how long? How did it feel? Was it harder to leave or to return home?
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.
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ONE
The keening wails echoing down the usually quiet halls of the Serenity Medical Center made the hair on the back of Samantha Rochard’s neck prickle. Every natural instinct told her to flee. Instead, her experience as a registered nurse sent her racing toward the sound of misery.
A doctor, white coat flying behind him, shoved her aside and burst through the curtain into an E.R. exam cubicle. She heard him start to speak. Then, his words were abruptly cut off.
A sixth sense brought Samantha to a skidding halt before the weighted curtain had stopped swinging behind him. Was that scuffling? Fighting? A thud?
She peeked through a slit between the panels. Dr. Weiss, the physician who had elbowed her out of his way, lay on the floor, moaning. A thin, scraggly figure she judged to be male stood with his back to her. The only thing about him that caught her attention and held it was the small, silver-colored revolver he was waving.
Samantha wheeled and flattened herself against a nearby wall. Hands trembling, she pulled out her cell phone, called 911 and cupped her hands around the instrument to muffle her speech.
“We need help at the medical center. Hurry.”
“What’s the nature of your emergency, ma’am?”
“I don’t know.” Samantha wanted to shout instead of whispering. “I heard a scream and…”
When the dispatcher interrupted to ask, “Is that you again, Ms. Rochard?” she figured her report wasn’t going to be taken seriously. So what else was new?
“Look,” Samantha said, “we’ve got a guy in our E.R. with a gun. Isn’t that enough?”
“Okay. Stay where you are and let us handle it.” There was a rumble of conversation and beeping noises in the background before the dispatcher returned. “We have units on the way. Stay on the line with me.”
Samantha was about to reply when someone grabbed a fistful of her shoulder-length, dark hair and jerked her off her feet. The cell phone hit the floor with a splintering crack. She was being dragged backward into the exam area where Dr. Weiss lay!
Her scalp felt as though it was on fire. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t reason. All she could do was keep screaming “No! No!” and try to regain her balance enough to fight back.
The attacker flung her aside like a sack of dirty laundry. She landed hard. The instant she looked up she knew who had manhandled her. It was one of the teenage Boland boys. What’s his first name? Why can’t I remember? Marty, Jimmy, Bobby? It was Bobby. Bobby Joe. At least that sounded right.
Shying away while her thoughts whirled, Samantha stared at the young man in the tattered jeans and T-shirt. His eyes were wide and darting, their pupils dilated. He was under the influence for sure, which made him even more unpredictable. His demeanor reminded her of an animal caught in the jaws of a steel trap and willing to chew its own leg off to escape.
She licked her lips and found her voice. “Hey, it’s me. Samantha Rochard. You’re—you’re Bobby Joe, right? I used to go to school with your big sisters. Remember?”
His eyes flickered. His body was shaking so uncontrollably his hand kept jerking. The hand with the gun in it. “I—I know,” he stammered. “I came to see you ’cause you’re a nurse.”
“Okay. I’m here,” Samantha said with forced calm. “I’m going to get up now, Bobby. Will you let me do that?”
His nod was quick, twitchy. “Yeah.”
Using the edge of the exam table to steady herself she kept her concentration on the teen’s face, waiting for him to do something else irrational thanks to his drug-induced paranoia. The biggest plus of the whole situation was the fact that she knew all of the Boland kids had been raised with strong morals and lots of love, even if they hadn’t had much else.
Samantha took a deep, settling breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m listening,” she told the skinny, long-haired teen. “Why did you want to see me?”
He stepped aside so Samantha could view the occupant of the narrow gurney for the first time. A homemade quilt wrapped a frail, blond child about two years old. The little body lay quiet. Too quiet.
Whipping her stethoscope from around her neck she pushed the teen aside, threw back the edges of the quilt and began to check the child’s vital signs. There was a heartbeat! Thank You, God.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“I don’t know. I was just watchin’ him for a friend and…”
“How long? How long has he been like this?”
Instead of answering, the gunman stepped back and began to weep as if his heart was breaking.
Samantha was no longer concerned about anything except the ill child. “Talk to me, Bobby Joe. Tell me everything.”
Sobbing was all she heard so she doubled her efforts. “Listen. Time matters. If you think he swallowed something I need to know what and when. Talk to me. Help me save him.” She was searching for injuries on the little body as she spoke and finding none.
The young man sank to the floor near Dr. Weiss’s feet. Samantha heard him mumble something about a stash and the little boy being too curious. That was enough to get started. She threw aside the curtain surrounding one end of the exam area and found herself staring at a trio of quaking coworkers.
“Narcan,” Samantha shouted. “And find me a doctor who’s conscious enough to give the order to administer.”
“I can do it,” Weiss said, rolling onto his hands and knees and pausing before pulling himself erect. He cast a wary glance at the assailant who was still babbling incoherently, then nodded at a middle-aged nurse who stood outside the immediate area. “You. Alice. You heard her. Meds. Stat. And somebody order a chopper. We’ll transport to Children’s in Little Rock as soon as we stabilize.”
“Respirations are slow, pulse rapid and weak,” Samantha told him.
“That figures.” Weiss blew a sigh. “I’ll start an IV while you give him half the dose IM. If the problem isn’t opiate-induced, Narcan won’t hurt him.”
“Right.” She administered the injection while other nurses and the doctor worked on the opposite side of the gurney.
The sound of approaching sirens caught her attention. Tensing, she eyed Bobby Joe. He apparently hadn’t noticed that the police were almost there.
“Vitals are improving. Somebody take my place for a second,” Samantha said before leaving the patient in other capable hands and going to crouch beside the distraught teen.
“We’ve given the boy an antidote and he’s starting to respond. It’s going to be okay.” Reaching for his weapon and closing her hand around it, she made sure it was pointing in a safe direction, then exerted steady pressure. “You can let go. Give me the gun, Bobby Joe. Everything’s under control.”
Relieved beyond words when he did as she asked, Samantha stood, holding out the small, silver pistol, butt firs
t and muzzle direction safely diverted, just the way she’d taken it from its owner.
Several police officers were already approaching warily when she turned to face them. Their guns were drawn, their expressions deadly serious so she announced, “You can relax, fellas. Everything’s under control. I got his gun away from him for you.”
One deputy sidled past her to cuff the addict while another stepped up and took the pistol from her hand.
If Samantha hadn’t already been so keyed up that she could barely think straight, she might have shrieked when she saw that cop’s face. Her jaw did drop and she was pretty sure her gasp was audible. His light brown hair and eyes and his broad shoulders were all too familiar. It couldn’t be him, of course. It simply couldn’t be. She hadn’t had one of these déjà vu moments for months. Maybe years.
Her pulse leaped as reality replaced imagination. She couldn’t catch her breath. This was not another bad dream. John Waltham, the man who’d broken her heart so badly she’d wondered if she’d ever recover, was standing right in front of her, big as life.
Before she could decide how to greet him, he set the mood of their reunion. His “What did you think you were doing?” was delivered with such force it was practically a growl.
That attitude stiffened her spine and made it easy to answer, “My job.”
“You’re a nurse, not a cop.”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to just stand there while you and your buddies waltz in here and start shooting?”
“If necessary, yes.”
“Don’t be silly. I knew Bobby Joe wasn’t going to hurt me,” she insisted, wishing she fully believed her own assertion. When an addict was under the influence there was no way to predict what he or she might do.
Handling the pistol expertly, John unloaded it and passed it to one of his fellow officers to bag as evidence before turning back to Samantha.
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