by Ruth Reid
“Dr. Gleeson wasn’t able to convince administration to extend your stay. He’ll be here shortly to tell you that you’re being discharged.”
A lump formed in her throat. “But I still don’t know who I am.” They’d all drawn the conclusion months ago that she either didn’t have family or was estranged from them. Otherwise someone would have come looking for her.
“You’ll be safe at the ranch. Of course you won’t get paid much, but you’ll have room and board.”
She was safe here in the hospital. Julie pinched the bridge of her nose, but she couldn’t stop the tears from collecting. Lord, help me. “My face will frighten the children.”
“They’re blind.”
Julie sniffled.
“Maybe the reason you spent so many weeks with your eyes bandaged was God preparing you for this job,” Amy said softly. “You’ll be able to relate to what the children are going through.”
“I never thought about that possibility.” Julie had asked why so many times. She thought God wasn’t listening.
“There’s one more thing I need to tell you,” Amy said. “Your fingerprints were not on file. It’s good news really. You’re not a wanted criminal.”
“When you look at it that way, it is gut. But nothing’s changed. I still don’t know who I am or where I belong.”
Elijah dreaded the long drive into town, and thankfully the bishop wasn’t talkative today. Elijah needed time to mentally prepare before reaching the police department. With the warmer weather the Muskingum River would have thawed. The runoff of melted snow would have raised the water level, and that meant the water would be rushing downstream at a faster pace.
The buggy wheel dipped into a muddy puddle, and he was unexpectedly jostled.
“You sure you feel up to going into town? You’re looking a little pale, Elijah.”
“I’m sure.” He’d stopped at the police department at least once a week when he went into town with Titus. Sometimes he thought the bishop created a reason to take a drive just so Elijah could be reassured that nothing new had developed. Elijah wiped his moist palms on his pant legs and gazed out the window at the budding trees—nature’s evidence of spring.
“I suppose you want me to drop you off at the police station,” Titus said when they entered the city limits.
“Please.” He pulled a hankie from his pocket and blotted his forehead. He should be praying, but lately he hadn’t found the words. If praying that Catherine was found meant her body washing ashore, he couldn’t pray that he’d find her.
The buggy rolled to a stop next to the curb in front of the police station, and Elijah slid off the bench. “I’ll meet you at the market, or are you going to the feed store first?”
“Try the market first.”
“Okay, thanks.” A gust of wind lifted his straw hat, but Elijah was able to hold it in place. He hurried into the building.
The window clerk, Brooke, looked up and smiled as the bell buzzed. “How are you today, Mr. Graber?”
He shrugged. “Nervous.”
She picked up the phone and pressed extension 58. “Mr. Graber is here. Is there anything I need to tell him?”
He’d been in the office so many times over the past few months that they all knew his name and the reason for his visit.
She put the phone down. “Nothing’s come over the wire. Officer Rhodes said he would pay you a visit if and when he hears something.”
“I know, but I was coming into town anyway. I thought I would stop in.” Their conversation was always the same. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime.”
After the first few times he’d gone in to see an officer, Brooke had teased him that she had worked for more than twenty years for the department and had never had an Amish person in the building until he moved to town. Elijah had laughed at her joke, but inwardly he wished he had no reason to go inside.
Elijah shot up a quick wave and headed to the door. “See you next time.” A sense of peace washed over him as he hiked the half mile to the market. Lowering his head to block the wind, he hadn’t noticed anyone walk up until someone touched his coat sleeve.
“Elijah? Is that you?”
It had been months since he’d seen Alex. “Jah, it’s me. How are you, Alex?”
“I’m doing great. The case against Budget Bus is getting closer to being resolved. I can’t say for sure, but everything is leaning toward reaching a settlement out of court. However, if they don’t meet our demands, we don’t have any problem letting a jury decide.” He reached inside his coat pocket and removed his cell phone. “How can I reach you? We’ll have to schedule your deposition sometime soon.”
“I’m living in Hopewater district, but I would rather nett—”
“The Amish settlement off of Hill Side Drive?”
“Jah, but I’m nett interested in going to court or testifying. I’ve had time to think it over and—”
“What about Catherine? You didn’t say if you’ve found her. Unfortunately, it’s too late to add her to the suit. I could probably arrange another firm to take her case.”
“She wouldn’t be interested. And nay, I haven’t found her yet. I have to go.” He pointed to the market. “I’m meeting someone.”
“Oh yeah, don’t let me keep you. I’ll be in touch.”
Please, don’t.
Chapter 29
The children’s ranch was massive. A long, narrow driveway with board fencing on both sides led to the two-story main home constructed out of cedar logs and a stone foundation.
Amy stopped the car in the circular driveway and turned off the engine. “So what do you think?”
Julie gazed in awe at the majestic surroundings. “It’s certainly in the middle of nowhere.”
“Doc owns a thousand acres.” Amy opened the car door and got out.
Reluctantly, she climbed out of the car, then grabbed the brown paper bag from the back seat, which held all her worldly belongings. A few changes of clothes, a brush, and toiletries that Amy had generously supplied. Gazing at the house again, she took a deep breath. Tension knotted her muscles despite the sense of peacefulness the place emanated.
“Julie.” Amy wove her arm around Julie’s elbow. “Once you’re adjusted, trust me, you’ll never want to leave.”
“If I don’t earn my keep, Dr. Wellington might ask that I leave.”
Amy tugged her elbow, drawing her in tighter. “Don’t you worry about that. You’re going to do fine.”
They followed the sidewalk to the front steps.
Amy’s eyes lit. “Don’t you just love this big porch?”
“Impressive.” The covered front porch spanned the length of the house, and various wooden chairs made it an inviting space to watch the sunset. She noticed a plaque near the door and touched the raised bumps.
“It’s Braille,” Amy explained. “Welcome to Hannah’s Henhouse.”
“Henhouse?”
“Odd, isn’t it?” Amy chuckled. “This place reminds me of the resort I stayed at in Montana.” She rang the doorbell. “Hannah was Doc’s wife. She passed away a few years ago. I think he used to tease her about being a mother hen.”
The door opened, and a woman who appeared to be in her early sixties greeted them with a smile. “May I help you?”
“My name is Amy Sawyer, and we’re here to see Dr. Wellington.”
“Oh yes. He’s expecting you.” She opened the door wider.
The foyer held a large round table in the center, which held a tall iron vase of birch tree limbs bluntly cut.
“Hi, I’m Cynthia Hunt. You must be Julie, my new helper.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Hunt. I, ah—” She shifted the bag with her clothes to her opposite arm and extended her right hand. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Same here,” she said, shaking her hand. “Please, call me Cynthia.”
The woman’s friendly smile eased some of Julie’s nerves.
“Let me sh
ow you to your room first so you can drop off your belongings.” Cynthia eyed the brown sack. “Then I’ll take you on the grand tour. Are you a fan of horseback riding?”
“I’m not sure if I’ve ever ridden a horse before.”
The woman’s brows angled curiously, and her head tilted to one side.
“Julie was in a terrible accident,” Amy explained.
“I lost my memory.” She chewed her lip, trying to decide if she should tell her everything. She needed to make a good impression; she needed the job. Her hospital bill was enormous. When Amy had contacted the bus companies to file a claim on Julie’s behalf, a claim couldn’t be processed without the required information—full name, photo identification, and proof of purchase by either a copy of the credit card statement or receipt.
Amy cupped Julie’s shoulder with her hand. “She’s undergone multiple surgeries and almost lost sight in one eye.”
“Oh my.” The woman pressed her hand to her chest.
“Truth is,” she blurted, “I don’t even know if my name is Julie.” Acid clawed at the back of her throat. Would the woman still want to work with her?
“I see.” Cynthia forced a smile she couldn’t hold. Her shoulders straightened and spine stiffened. “Is Dr. Wellington aware?”
Amy nodded. “He is.”
Cynthia turned away from Amy. “Do you require any special assistance, Julie—should I call you Julie?”
“I’ll answer to anything, but yes, Julie is fine. And no, I don’t need assistance. I’ll be your best worker.”
Cynthia eyed her hard. “Your memory loss explains why I didn’t receive a copy of your background check.”
Julie stole a glance at Amy, whose brows had arched. “I thought Doc said everything was worked out.”
The woman continued to scrutinize every inch of her. “You’ll only be around the children under direct supervision. It’s for the safety of the children.”
Julie nodded. “I understand.”
“And you’ll abide by the rules?”
“Of course.” Julie hated to believe she might be a danger to the children, but how did she know if she even liked children—she couldn’t even vouch for herself.
“Julie had her fingerprints run through the FBI program, and nothing came back,” Amy said. “She volunteered to have her prints checked, hoping it would lead to finding her identity. What more does your background check involve?”
“I call former employers, check personal references.”
“I’ll vouch for her. I’ve known her almost four months, and I’ve never seen a kinder, gentler soul.”
Julie would have described Amy the same way.
Cynthia’s expression warmed. “Julie, you’re fortunate to have such a wonderful friend like Amy.”
“I’m blessed,” Julie replied.
“Your room is in the west wing.” Cynthia made a nod toward another room and started walking. “Our days begin early. Sometimes before sunrise . . .”
Julie glanced over her shoulder at Amy and mouthed, “Thank you.”
As Cynthia led them through an empty sitting room where leather chairs flanked a matching L-shaped couch, Julie inhaled the wood-burning scent coming from the fireplace and smiled. She looked forward to spending time in this room. Perhaps she would be able to borrow a book from one of the floor-to-ceiling shelves. The volunteer at the hospital had loaned her several books from her cart. Some of the stories were better than the others, but they served the purpose of passing the time.
Her bedroom was much larger than the hospital room. Brighter too. The lemony yellow walls complemented the blue-and-white checked curtains. She placed her belongings on the bed, then walked over to the large window. The big red barn caught her attention. Situated a few feet beside it was a long paddock with six stall doors, all closed. Not far from it sat a massive pole barn.
“That building to the right is the indoor riding area. The children love being able to ride during the winter.” The woman frowned. She shook her head, making a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue.
Following the woman’s gaze to the muddy pathway that led to the different buildings, Julie said, “I’ll keep the floors mopped.”
Cynthia smiled. “Oh, bless you, child. We’re going to get along perfectly.”
Julie smiled. Mopping was a chore she could certainly do. She’d make sure the floors were shiny enough to eat off them.
Cynthia motioned toward the door. “Ready to see the rest of the house?”
“Sure,” Julie replied.
Cynthia explained whose bedrooms were where without opening the doors. As they neared the front door, Amy stopped.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave.” Amy glanced at her wristwatch. “I changed shifts with one of my coworkers today, so I need to get going now or I’ll risk being late.”
Julie’s breath hitched. Even though Amy had said on the way there that she wouldn’t be able to stay long, Julie wasn’t ready for her friend to leave. She was fine. Cynthia was kind, a sweet motherly type. Relax. Breathe.
“I’ll stop out on my next day off,” her friend said reassuringly.
Julie nodded. She trusted Amy. Her friend wouldn’t leave her somewhere unsafe. “Thanks for bringing me. I look forward to seeing you soon.”
Once Amy left, Cynthia continued the tour. The house was larger than it looked, with its various sitting areas, studies, and multiple kitchens on the main level and in the basement. The walls in the basement were finished with rough-cut timber from what looked like an old barn, and rafter beams sectioned off an area that housed a pool table. A leather love seat, couch, and chairs were around an oversized coffee table made from what looked like a massive tree slab. The shiny finish on the top brought out the rings of the old oak beautifully.
Drawn to the french doors, Julie gazed outside at the barnyard. A herd of horses trotted up to the fence, where a man was spreading hay on the ground. Some of the horses had spots; others had patches; some of their wintery coats were various shades of brown; others were black or white. Mixed in the group were several ponies with their long manes past their necks and bangs that covered their eyes; their big, rounded bellies were quite a sight. Her gaze flitted from the four-legged creatures over to the redheaded man feeding them.
Why does he look familiar?
Chapter 30
Over the following week, Elijah kept himself busy by reading the Bible and praying continuously for Catherine, as well as for direction for his life. He had no idea how long he would stay at the cabin. He didn’t want to wear out his welcome even though he hadn’t seen the red-haired man again.
Rain had melted the snow, and with the yard mostly muddy, he was careful not to push Pickles too hard for fear the animal would stumble on the slippery soil and injure himself. But limiting the horse’s training meant Elijah had too much time on his hands. He’d replaced the missing slats in the barn siding and walked the fence line yesterday, inspecting it for needed repairs. Now, sitting inside the cabin, idly watching drizzly raindrops make rings in the puddles outside the window, his mind conjured up an image of Catherine smiling, and for a split second, he heard her laughter. Tears brimmed his lids, and he swiped them away. She’s gone.
Elijah shot up from the chair. This is crippling. He had to do something. He shoved on his boots, snatched his coat from the hook, and put it on as he walked to the equipment shed. Hard work had always been therapeutic. Who cared if it was raining.
After finding a hoe, rake, and wheelbarrow in the shed, he crossed the yard to a spot that had good sun and would make a good place for a garden. He swung the hoe with all his might, taking out his pent-up anger over missing Catherine on the soil. As he turned over the ground, rainwater mixed with tears spilled into the trenches. By the time exhaustion set in, he’d cleared a larger area than he originally intended. He hoped the cabin owner would be all right with what he’d done. He should have asked permission.
Elijah gathered the dead leaves and the weeds h
e’d pulled, and placed them in the wheelbarrow. As he emptied the last load on the compost pile, the sun had completely faded. Dirty, exhausted, and aching all over, he decided it was too late to make supper with the bishop’s family. He wasn’t hungry. Besides, he wouldn’t be much company anyway.
He washed up at the sink, then put the kettle on the stove for coffee. Maybe later he’d fry an egg or two if he felt hungry. He’d been blessed by the members in the district with quart-sized jars of milk and fresh eggs every day. The women had also spoiled him with pies and cookies.
When the coffee was ready, he poured a mug, then fished out a tasty treat from the cookie jar. The first bite of sweetness awakened his stomach; it growled for more. Elijah removed a frying pan from the cabinet, and as he tapped an egg against the countertop, someone knocked on the back door. Startled by the knock, he somehow crushed the egg. Yolk drippings went down the front of the cabinet and splattered on the floor.
He toweled his hands as he went to answer the door. With the visitor holding a lantern down at his side, it was difficult to make out who was standing on the stoop.
“Guder evening, Elijah.”
His jaw went slack. He recognized Zach’s voice before his eyes had a chance to adjust to the darkness.
Zach lifted the lantern higher in one hand while drawing his attention to the plate covered with foil in his other. “The bishop’s fraa wanted me to bring you this. She thought you might be hungry. You never made it to supper.”
“Jah, time got away with me—what are you doing here?”
“You gonna invite me in?”
Elijah opened the door wider. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be impolite. I wasn’t expecting—”
“Me. You weren’t expecting me.”
Zach’s controlled tone and probing stare caught Elijah off guard. It wasn’t until his friend gave the plate of food a deliberate thrust against his chest that Elijah sensed Zach’s wrath. Behind his friend’s tight-lipped smile, he was clenching his teeth.
“Have a seat. I’ll pour us some kaffi.” Elijah turned his back to him and placed the plate of food on the table. “When did you get into town?”