“Those are my Englisch daughter, her husband and their children,” Vera explained.
“Does your bishop allow photographs?” Willa had never heard of such a thing.
“As long as I don’t keep them on public display, he allows it. My daughter’s family lives on the West Coast and I seldom get to see them, but she makes sure that I get at least two family photographs each year.”
“Your church group is very progressive. My grandfather’s church would shun anyone who kept photographs.”
“I don’t allow photographs to be taken of myself, but one of the girls at the local school is a talented artist. She has sketched likenesses of John and me. I plan to give them to my daughter. They are coming the week after Christmas and plan to stay for two weeks this year. I’m so excited to see them. It’s been four years since I last saw all of them.” Her smile faded and sadness filled her eyes. “Not since my oldest son’s funeral.”
“You lost a son? I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No reason why you should.”
“John told me about his wife last night and how she died.”
Vera set the photograph back on the dresser. “Did he? That is a surprise. I knew you needed to stay with us for a reason.”
Willa tipped her head to the side. “You didn’t rig our buggy to break so we couldn’t leave, did you?”
“What a silly question. I’d better get started on breakfast for everyone. Look through the material in the next room and let me know if you can use any of it. We will have to buy snow pants and boots for the children. Ana Bowman stocks a small selection in her gift store.”
“I don’t have any money to buy their clothing. I can’t accept more charity when you have already given us so much.”
“That is your Englisch pride speaking. Shame on you. An Amish woman is humble before the Lord and the world, and she accepts help without quibbling. The girls need warm clothing. We are commanded to care for widows and orphans by our faith. You shall have what you need. I don’t want to hear another word about the cost. The day will come when you are able to help someone in return. Is that understood?”
Being humble was harder than Willa remembered, but she nodded.
“Goot. I think I have enough green worsted wool to make the girls overcoats and I know I have enough white organdy to make several kapps for you and the girls. If you are going to become Amish, you and your children must have more than one set of Amish clothes to wear. You will have to help me with some of the sewing. My hands ache something dreadful today.”
Willa realized Vera hadn’t answered her question about the buggy, but she didn’t press the issue. After all, she and her girls were safe and being well cared for, at least until the storm was over. Soon they would have to move on, but not today.
Willa remembered John’s teasing that morning and realized she was going to miss him as much as his mother when she did leave. Maybe more.
When had she come to like him so much?
Chapter Seven
“Johnjohn, will you play with me?”
John looked up from his magazine that afternoon to see Lucy standing in front of his chair staring at him. “I’m busy. Play with your sister.”
He started reading again. He hadn’t seen Willa or his mother for several hours, but he had been out plowing the lane after the wind had subsided. Nick Bradley would have had a hard time getting in to pick him up for the meeting even with his four-wheel-drive vehicle. Some of the drifts had been four feet deep, but Pete and Jake had no trouble breaking through them.
He glanced out the window. The winter landscape was brilliant and sparkling under a thick layer of pristine snow. The sky was clear and blue without a trace of clouds. The snowstorm had ended before dawn after blowing for two days. His mother and Willa had vanished into his mother’s sewing room for much of that time. He had spent most of the gray daylight hours in his workshop and had accomplished a goodly amount of work. He had an hour to catch up on his reading before the fire department meeting this evening.
Lucy tapped his knee. “Read me a story, please,” she said again with added emphasis on the please.
He chose the safest answer he could think of. “Go ask your mother.”
“Mama is sleeping. Story, please.”
Willa was sleeping. That was a good thing. She needed her rest. “Then go ask my mother.”
Lucy gave an exasperated sigh.
Megan was lying on the oval rug in front of the sofa stacking wooden blocks. “She say ask you.”
He hadn’t seen anything in his blacksmithing journal he felt would interest a three-year-old. “Lucy, I don’t have a storybook for you.”
“No story?” Lucy stuck out her lower lip. Were tears next?
Please, not that. Maybe he didn’t need a book. “I reckon I could tell you a story instead of reading one. Will that work, Lucy?”
“Okeydokey.” She crawled onto his lap before he could think of a way to stop her.
She held out her hand to Megan. “Sissy, come listen to story.”
Megan eyed him with distrust and shook her head.
John gave her the distance she seemed to need. “Megan can hear the story just fine where she is.” Now all he had to do was think of one.
“See my new dress?” Lucy smoothed the vibrant blue material that matched her eyes. He hadn’t noticed before, but Megan was wearing an identical new outfit, as well. Their old dresses had been oversize and a dull gray color.
“I see, and Megan has a new dress, too. You both look very nice and very plain.”
It was true. Their hair was parted in the middle and held back with blue plastic clips that peeked from beneath their snowy-white kapps. Their kapps, which were the right size, and for once they were both wearing them. They were two very Amish-looking children.
Lucy folded her hands together and gazed up at him. “Once upon a time...”
She was persistent if nothing else. He chuckled. “Who is telling this story, you or me?”
“You. Once upon a time...”
He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. He’d never told a child a story before. Where did he start? Perhaps with something they would recognize.
“Once upon a time...” He paused to grin at Lucy. She smiled back.
“Once upon a time there were two little girls who came to visit an Amish farm. They were sisters. The Amish word for sister is shveshtah.” It wouldn’t hurt for them to start learning the language if their mother intended to raise them in the faith.
Lucy rolled the strange word around on her tongue. John smothered a smile. “The sisters came to the farm in a buggy pulled by a gual, a horse. The sisters decided to visit the animals in the barn. What animals do you think they saw?”
“A cat!” Lucy shouted.
“That’s right. They saw a fluffy yellow katz. They wanted to pet her, but she ran away to chase mice. What else did the girls see?”
Megan crept closer and leaned on the arm of his chair. “A cow.”
“They did, they saw a milk cow. Our word for milk cow is milchkuh.”
“Baby cows, too,” Lucy added.
“A calf, a kalb. In fact, the sisters saw two. The kalbs were twins just like the sisters. What is the Amish word for sister, Lucy?”
“Shveshtah,” Megan answered.
“Da shveshtahs kumm to the farm in a buggy pulled by a gaul. On the farm they saw a katz, a milchkuh and kalbs in the barn. The cat ran away, but the cow stayed to eat hay. The sisters looked at each other and said ‘We want hay for supper, too.’”
Lucy shook her head. “We don’t want hay.”
“What about you, Megan? Would you like hay for supper?” he asked, hoping to draw her out.
She almost smiled but quickly made her yucky face. “No!”
“Me, neither,” he said. “I want apple pie and ice cream, and that is the end of our story about sisters visiting an Amish farm.”
“Are you kinder ready for supper?” his mother asked from the kitchen door. Willa stood behind her, smiling softly at him. She, too, wore a new dress out of the same blue material with a black apron over it. Like her daughters, the color matched her lovely eyes. She looked rested and pleased with him.
Warmth filled his chest at the approval in her gaze.
Lucy slid off his lap and grabbed Megan’s hand. “I hungry.”
“Good. I hope Vera fixed enough hay to feed everyone,” Willa said as she turned away.
The girls skidded to a halt in the doorway. His mother burst out laughing. “She is teasing you. We are having ham and potato soup, not hay. Go wash your hands and then come to the dish.”
“Dish is the Amish word for table,” Willa said. “Put your toys away in Vera’s room and then wash up.”
The children went down the hall. His mother turned to John. “I had no idea that you were such an entertaining storyteller.”
“It’s a newfound skill. One born of desperation. Save some soup for me. I’ll eat later. Nick should be here any minute to pick me up for the meeting.”
Willa placed glasses on the table. “Now that you have told the girls one story, you will have to tell them more. Once is never enough with my daughters. Fortunately for you, we will be on our way as soon as you get our buggy back together.”
He realized he wasn’t as happy about that as he should be. He would miss them when they were gone. “I will get the nuts and bolts I need from Luke Bowman’s hardware on the way home tonight”
“But you won’t be able to work on the buggy tomorrow, and Willa can’t travel. Tomorrow is church Sunday. She’s coming to the prayer meeting with us.”
Willa tipped her head to the side. “I’m not sure the girls are ready for an Amish church service.”
“They will learn our ways as all Amish children do, by the example of their parent.”
Vera folded her arms over her chest. “If you truly wish to rejoin our faith, you must start somewhere.”
“You are right, of course.”
John could see Willa was worried about their behavior or perhaps something else. “They are sweet children and young enough that much will be forgiven them.”
“It’s only that I hate to expose them to so many strangers at once. I know they will be uncomfortable, especially Megan. I have always stressed stranger danger. Megan takes it to heart. Lucy has never met a stranger.”
Maybe he could get to the bottom of the mystery about her fears. “Why are you so worried about strangers?”
Willa cast his mother a sharp look. “Didn’t you tell him?”
Vera turned her attention to the pot on the stove. “I may have forgotten to mention it.”
“You forgot to tell me what?” he asked, not certain he wanted to know. Willa had her gaze fixed on the floor. His mother began ladling soup into the bowls lined up on the counter. The tension in the air was as thick as smoke. Something wasn’t right.
The tromping of heavy boots on the porch caught John’s attention. The outside door opened and Sheriff Nick Bradley walked in. John was surprised to see him in uniform. He pulled his trooper’s hat from his head. The bright gold star on the front glinted in the lamplight. “Evening, folks.”
* * *
The world rocked under Willa’s feet as she struggled to draw breath. It wasn’t possible. How had the police found her here? Had John told them? Had Vera? She had to get to the girls. They had to get away. She took a step back, but Vera grabbed her arm with a painful grip, forcing her to stand still.
“Good evening, Nick. Have you time for a bowl of my potato soup before you and John head out to your meeting?” Vera’s cordial tone cut though Willa’s panic.
The tall man pulled his trooper’s hat off his head. “I wish I did, Vera, but I’ve got another fella to pick up and these roads are slow going.”
“Then don’t let me keep you.”
He gestured toward Willa with his hat. “I don’t believe I’ve met your visitor.”
“I’m sure you haven’t. She is visiting us for the first time. Frau Lapp, this is Sheriff Bradley. He is a fair-minded fellow and a goot friend to the Amish.”
He smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Willa couldn’t speak. She simply nodded once. Please, God, don’t let the girls come out until he is gone.
It seemed God wasn’t listening, for she heard giggles and pounding feet in the hallway, but only Lucy came in. At the sight of a stranger she rushed to hide behind Willa. Willa prayed Lucy wouldn’t speak. Her English would give them away for sure.
The sheriff grinned and squatted to Lucy’s level. He asked her name in flawless Deitsh. Willa swallowed hard. John stepped between her and the sheriff as he pulled on his coat. “She is a shy one. She barely speaks to me. We should get going.”
Standing upright, the sheriff settled his hat on his head. “It was nice meeting you, Frau Lapp. You’ve got a mighty cute kinder.”
“Danki.” She barely managed to utter the word.
The sheriff touched the brim of his hat and followed John out the door.
Willa’s knees began shaking so hard she could barely stand. Vera pulled her toward a chair. “It’s all right now.”
Willa dropped onto the seat. “What shall I do? What do I do now?” She grabbed Lucy by the shoulders. “Where is Megan?”
“Putting toys away,” Lucy whispered and then started crying.
Megan came in and quickly put her arm around Lucy. “Don’t cry.”
“Bad man,” Lucy said between sobs.
“Willa, you are frightening your little ones,” Vera said in a stern tone.
Pulling her daughters close to comfort them, she said, “The man is gone. We’re fine.” Willa looked at Vera. “Did you know he was coming?”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you warn me? We could’ve stayed in my room until he left.”
“And then you would have been more afraid, if that is possible. He saw you, and he saw Lucy. What did he see? An Amish frau with a child.”
“I could’ve given myself away.”
“You did not. Gott was with you. Now let us have supper before the soup gets cold.”
“I don’t think I can eat.” Willa’s hands were still shaking.
“Nonsense. Think of the boppli. You both need nourishment.”
“Do you really think we fooled him?” Willa stared at the door, expecting the sheriff to return at any moment.
“Of course we didn’t fool him. That would be dishonest. He saw exactly what I see. He saw a friend of mine and her little girl. Tomorrow is church. You will worship as one of us. You will sing the hymns you learned as a child and have not forgotten. More people will meet Frau Lapp, a sad young widow with two small children. No one will see an Englisch woman pretending to be Amish...because she does not exist.”
“I’m not sure I can do it.”
“You can if you do it for the right reason. Seek and you shall find comfort listening to the preachers as they share the word of Gott. Salvation is yours if you accept Gott’s will. Then you will know peace. You are safe here.”
Willa wanted to believe her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the door.
* * *
John sat stiffly in the front seat of Nick’s SUV. He didn’t know what Willa was afraid of, but he would find out before this night was over. He’d seen the fear in her eyes when the sheriff came in. Her fingers had been clenched so tightly her knuckles stood out white against the blue of her dress.
Nick hadn’t spoken since they got in the SUV. He turned into the lane of Stroud’s hor
se farm. Noah Bowman, a neighbor and another Amish volunteer firefighter, lived on the stable grounds with his new wife. Nick stopped the car in front of their house and turned in his seat to face John. “Frau Lapp seemed upset to see me. Know any reason why she should be afraid of me?”
John expected his question. Nick was too good at his job not to have noticed Willa’s reaction. John was glad he didn’t know what was wrong. He shared what he knew to be the truth. “Her husband was recently killed in an automobile accident. The police brought her the bad news. I didn’t think to tell her that an officer of the law was coming to the house tonight. Perhaps she feared more tragic news when she saw you.”
“That explains a lot. Thank you. Please give her my condolences when you speak to her again and tell her I didn’t mean to frighten her or dredge up bad memories.”
“I will.”
Nick started to open the car door, but Noah had seen them and hurried out of the house. He slid into the back seat. “Guten nacht, John. Evening, Nick. I appreciate the lift. What’s new in the big bad world of law enforcement?”
“Same old thing. Drunk drivers, drug busts, drag racing, buggy racing, two missing-person reports. Oh, there was a report of a rabid squirrel trying to get in someone’s front door last week. Turned out to be a pet that belonged to the man in the next apartment.”
“Who has gone missing? Some of our Amish kids?” Noah asked.
It was sad, but some youth who didn’t wish to join the faith felt so pressured to do so that they saw running away in the dead of night as their only way out.
Nick turned the SUV around. “One was a boy from Bishop Troyer’s church. Your brother Luke still runs a counseling group for kids who want to leave, doesn’t he? Ask him if he knows anything about the boy.”
“I will, but you know Luke deeply respects the privacy of those who come to him.”
“I appreciate that. The number of runaways in this area has gone down 50 percent since he started his group. The other missing people aren’t Amish. It’s a woman from Columbus with three-year-old twin daughters. They were last seen getting off a bus outside of Millersburg, and then they vanished into thin air.”
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