His hands covering his face, Jimmy tried to protect himself from the large and vicious dog. As The Bruise cowered on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest, John retrieved his weapon, now holding both guns on their two attackers.
“Sarah, the dog!”
Sarah sniffled and sat up. “Snowball! No!” She grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled, stroking her back gently and speaking more softly to calm her.
Jimmy whimpered as he pulled his bloody hands away from his face.
“Rope, Sarah?”
She motioned to Snowball to stay. The dog seemed to have calmed, now that the two men weren’t threatening her any longer. Sarah stepped away to riffle through a couple of cabinets, returning with a length of cord that was more than enough to tie up Carlyle and Jimmy the Bruise.
The faint scream of sirens sounded outside. A few moments later, the barn filled with several police officers, and Carlyle and Jimmy the Bruise were taken into custody. John handed over their weapons to the nearest uniformed officer and then sagged against the rail of the stall, his legs wilting underneath him.
With the quilt still draped over her shoulders, Sarah approached him. “May we step outside now? For some fresh air and a change of scenery?”
“Jah.” A smile wobbled across his lips as he spoke the Pennsylvania German. “Sounds gut.”
Confusion flittered across her beautiful face, followed by a shy smile.
With fresh blankets thrown over their shoulders, John led her to the outdoor porch of the neighbor’s house. Snowball followed and sat next to Sarah, reaching up to try to lick her hand. “The police will have some questions for you eventually. But you’re safe now. It’s all over. Life can go back to normal.”
“Normal?” Sarah stared at the ground. “We are leaving Indiana. Normal for Lyddie and for me will be back in Pennsylvania.” Something sparkled on her cheek. Was it a tear?
“No.” His pulse raced within him as he pulled Sarah into his embrace. “Let me finish what I was beginning to say before we were interrupted.” Snowball barked, and John ran a hand over her head. He grabbed that moment to swallow over a sudden lump in his throat and toss up a quick prayer. “Sarah, I’ve said I care about you. I care about Lyddie, too. I also said that I love you. I love you both. Now that my memory has returned, I believe the Lord is leading me back to my Amish heritage. I want to speak to the bishop about joining the church.”
A gasp escaped Sarah, and her arms found their way around his neck to pull him into a tight hug. “That is wunderbar!” She released him and pulled away, her beautiful face pink, probably with embarrassment.
Snow began to flit down again, but this time it was a gentle free fall of large flakes.
“I don’t know yet what I’ll do to earn my keep, but I’m grateful for how you’ve helped me find my way back, with a little encouragement. And—” he cleared his throat, fighting the lump that continued to grow “—I know where I’d like to settle.”
This was it. This was the moment. What if she said no? What if he had misread her, and she was only helping him because it was her responsibility as an Amish woman who was true to her faith?
But as he looked down at her, it seemed that hopefulness shone from her soft brown eyes. As the snow flurried down around them, the chill of the winter air making him pull her even closer, he thought he could smell the aroma of cinnamon and home and hearth in her brown curls. God’s peace settled on him like a warm quilt.
“I’ve already said it, but I’ll say it again and again. I love you, Sarah. I need to wrap up a number of things, including testifying at the trial in a couple of weeks. And I need to figure out how I’m going to earn a living once I’m no longer a police officer. But if you agree, I’d like to write to you in the interim.”
Silence seemed to settle around them, broken only by the pounding of his heart as he waited. Then, like the sun breaking free from the winter storm clouds, a smile lit her face. “Jah, I would like that. And John? I love you, too.”
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later
Sarah plunged her hands back into the hot, soapy water and grasped another plate. A snowmobile hummed in the distance as she scrubbed, rinsed and placed the plate on the towel to dry. A letter sat propped up on the windowsill, but this one wasn’t from her mother urging her to come back to Pennsylvania to marry again.
This letter was from her love, declaring that he was counting the days until he could return to the Amish community and to her. In fact, two other letters rested behind the first. The name John had served him well during his amnesia, but now he was Jed again, a good, strong name for a fine man.
She glanced at the calendar again, but it was still the same date as it had been five minutes ago when she had looked at it...the day of the trial of Simon Carlyle and the counterfeiter called Jimmy the Bruise. Today was the day for Jed’s crucial testimony that would, he hoped, help return a guilty verdict for the men.
Snowball barked from outside, and the door opened with a gust of cold winter wind, blowing in Lyddie in her black winter cape and bonnet. “Mamm, may I go to the sledding hill? I will take Snowball with me.”
Sarah smiled at the plea of her daughter. Her daughter knew exactly how to ask for something by including her protective dog, for sure and for certain.
“Jah, but be back before sunset. That is not long from now.”
“Danki, Mamm.” The child pulled the door shut behind her.
Sarah finished the dishes, straightened up the living room, and sat down at the kitchen table with paper and pen. She had written a brief letter to her mother to say that she would not be returning to Lancaster Country, but she had also promised a much longer letter with details about her adventure, the man with amnesia and his return to the Amish faith.
A late afternoon haze was bending low over the yard, signaling the coming sunset, when she tucked the folded letter into her apron pocket and stepped to the window to look for Lyddie to return. But instead, the Amish taxi pulled into her lane. With a lightness in her step, she retrieved her cape and pulled it on as she stepped outside to see who it could be.
Jed sat in the front seat. He stepped out of the vehicle, his large smile warming her from the winter cold. He retrieved a couple of bags from the back seat and moved quickly to her as the Amish taxi pulled away.
“You are done so soon? I thought it would be a few more days.”
He grasped her hand in his, shaking his head no. “I testified at the trial, and guilty verdicts were returned for both early this afternoon. So, I rushed out of the courthouse, grabbed my few things, and the Amish taxi picked me up and drove me directly here. I didn’t want to wait any longer.”
“But you will have to return, jah?”
“Yes, but just to finish up a couple of things.” He meandered toward the house, still holding her hand. “I just didn’t want to wait any longer to leave that nine to five behind and slow down. Live simply.”
“And eat pie?” She tossed a teasing smile at him, the pressure of her hand in his making her heart thump and bump.
“Jah, always pie.” He returned the smile. “I know there will be hard work. But it’ll be work with the satisfaction of a job well done, work with the strength of my hands as well as my mind.”
“And your medical tests? You have results?”
“Yes. Everything came back clear. I won’t have any lasting damage. I saw my parents, and, although they don’t understand my return to the Amish, they don’t disapprove either.” The smile grew wider across his handsome face. “It feels good to remember again. To remember everything.”
“That is gut. I saw your grossmammi yesterday, Mammi Mary. She has your room ready.”
“Yes, she wrote to me that she was eager to make up for lost time. I think she’s going to keep me up nights talking and reminiscing. And I meet with the bishop tomorrow about being baptized into t
he church. Then,” he turned to her and drew her into his arms, gently touching his lips to hers, “we have something else to decide.”
“Jah?”
The sun broke free of the clouds just as it hit the horizon. The rays of light shone in pink and purple across the snow and ice, and a thousand crystals sparkled in the sunset.
“A wedding date.”
Sarah gasped as Jed put his fingers to her lips.
“I love you, Sarah Burkholder. It would be an honor if you would be my wife and if Lyddie would be my daughter. Will you marry me?”
Sarah’s heart thumped a wild beat. Here was the moment she had been wondering over and praying about for the last two weeks. But before she could answer, Lyddie burst from the woods, pulling her sled, Snowball bounding beside her. She ran to Jed, and he picked her up, gathering Sarah back into his embrace, as well. “Jed, you are here to stay?”
“Well, that’s up to your mother.” He looked to her, pleading in his eyes, his eyebrows raised with the unanswered question.
A lump formed in her throat. How did she deserve all this happiness? All this answered prayer? She swallowed hard. “Jah, I will.”
Jed squeezed them both tight and answered Lyddie’s question without removing his gaze from Sarah. “Jah, little one, I’m here to stay.”
“Will you become my daed?”
Sarah’s heart danced within her. A tear squeezed out to expose her joy.
“As soon as the bishop will allow it, liebchen.”
She leaned to give Lyddie a kiss on the cheek, followed by a kiss on Jed’s cheek, and the letter to her mother that she had tucked into her pocket pressed against her. It wasn’t the letter she had written a couple of weeks ago. That letter had burned in the barn fire, a fitting end to the intentions she had expressed in it. Even then, she had known she didn’t want to continue, especially not in Indiana, without Jed.
Now, she would write a new letter. A letter that explained it all. Jed was hers, and she was Jed’s. Her home was here, with him, in Indiana. Sarah’s lips found his as Lyddie hugged them both around the legs, completeness and wholeness settling over her like a warm Amish quilt.
* * * * *
Don’t miss Meghan Carver’s previous Love Inspired Suspense books—Under Duress and Deadly Disclosure.
And if you enjoy exciting Amish romantic suspense stories, be sure to look for Amish Rescue by Debby Giusti, Plain Outsider by Alison Stone and Amish Country Ambush by Dana R. Lynn from Love Inspired Suspense.
Keep reading for an excerpt from Lethal Legacy by Carol J. Post
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Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading my first Amish suspense. It was a thrill to write, and I pray it was a thrill to read.
John had quite a struggle with his memory loss and his faith. Even though there wasn’t much he could do to jog his memory, his faith just needed a little encouragement. Isn’t that the way it is sometimes? I know there have been moments in my life in which I knew what to do, but I appreciated encouragement. The Lord is there, through His Word and through prayer.
As she ran for her life, Sarah struggled with the constant reminder of the fleeting nature of existence. I admire her determination to take life a day at a time and trust Gott in all things. She learned to number her days as God revealed to her that He did not want her to be miserable after the death of her husband. God has good things in store for us, and she determined to rejoice in each day.
I would be honored to hear from you. You can visit my website at www.meghancarver.com, where you can sign up for my author newsletter, or email me at [email protected]. If you’re on Facebook, I’d like to be your friend at Facebook.com/meghancarver. If you wish to write on good old-fashioned stationery, you can send it to me c/o Love Inspired Books, 195 Broadway, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10007.
Many blessings to you,
Meghan Carver
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Lethal Legacy
by Carol J. Post
ONE
Trees lined both sides of the gravel drive. Their half-bare limbs framed the old house at its end and lent a spooky edge to the air of abandonment that hung over the property. A branch dangled from an oak, curled leaves barely visible against the moonlit sky.
Andrea Wheaton slowed her Escalade to a crawl. It didn’t help. The long screech against the roof set her teeth on edge and sent a shiver down her spine.
At the end of the drive, she released a sigh as childhood memories bombarded her. The old Wheaton place projected a rustic hominess that had always called to her. It didn’t hold a candle to their place in Atlanta, with its soaring columns and manicured grounds, but she’d always loved it. It had represented freedom, the one place she could let down her guard and simply be Andi.
Now it was hers. Six days later, and she was still reeling from the news.
She retrieved her small suitcase from the back seat and carried it to a porch covered with a three-inch-deep blanket of dead leaves. A swing hung from one end, and two Adirondack rockers sat side by side in the center. Judging from the layer of debris on each, neither the swing nor the rockers had been used for some time.
She laid the bag down and then pulled a wooden key chain from her purse. It was cut into the shape of North Carolina, the word Murphy burned onto its face. For twelve years, the key had lain in the bottom of her jewelry box, untouched. Partly because she’d been busy, first with college, and then with marriage and job responsibilities. Partly because she’d wanted to avoid the neighbors on both sides.
One she’d never cared for. The other she’d cared for too much.
When she slid the key into the lock, it turned without resistance. She frowned. Had her father forgotten to lock the dead bolt? A quick check of the doorknob told her it was unlocked, too.
A wave of uneasiness swept over her, and she shook it off. This wasn’t the city. This was Murphy, North Carolina, where neighbors helped one another out and it wasn’t uncommon to see a car parked in front of the Daily Grind downtown, keys still in the ignition.
She opened the door and swiped the double switch inside. Light flooded the porch and living room. When she stepped over the threshold, a sense of grief cut a wide swath through her heart. This had been her and her father’s retreat, the opportunity for them to escape the incessant demands of her mother.
Less than a week ago, she’d been sitting at the huge table in her aunt and uncle’s lodge near Asheville, enjoying turkey dinner, her parents across from her. Now they were gone. After leaving the lodge, they’d apparently taken a curve
too fast and plunged down an embankment to their deaths. Driving fast wasn’t in her dad’s nature. Neither was carelessness.
But neither was moodiness. Or brooding. Or several other behaviors she’d seen over the past months. Lately, her fun-loving father had become someone else entirely.
Something had been bothering him. Now she’d never know what.
After locking the door, she lowered her carry-on and extended the handle. The wheels rumbled against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the first bedroom. It had always been hers. When her grandparents were alive, the second one had been her dad’s. He’d long since taken the master bedroom and reallocated the middle one as an office.
She laid the bag on her bed and transferred the contents to the chest of drawers. She hadn’t brought much. The purpose of the trip was to scout out the place, see how much it had deteriorated over the past twelve years and decide what to do with it.
The decision about the Atlanta place was a no-brainer. As marketing director for a large sporting goods manufacturer, she spent more hours at work than at home. Her two-bedroom condo was plenty of house for her. She’d already contacted a Realtor, and her parents’ seven-thousand-square-foot spread was going on the market next week.
This one was harder to let go. It had been in her dad’s family for three generations. Four, if she counted her own.
After shutting the last drawer, she picked up her toiletry case and headed for the bathroom. As she stepped into the hall, something moved in her peripheral vision. She snapped her gaze in that direction.
A huge man barreled toward her. Except for two eyeholes, a knit mask hid his face. He slammed into her, knocking her hard against the wall. Her head hit the doorjamb. Pain shot through her temple and stars exploded across her vision.
Another figure ran past, this one much smaller. As retreating footsteps grew softer, blackness encroached. She gripped the jamb, willing herself to remain conscious, but strength drained from her limbs. She slid to the floor, landing on her hands and knees.
Amish Country Amnesia Page 17