John turned back, hurtling himself into Mary’s wagon. Josie scrambled up and bounded into the back.
Dat smacked the horse’s rear end. “We’ll wait for Bishop and Mamm!” he yelled. “Go! Go!”
Mary slapped the reins hard, and her horse took off. Once they were on the road, Mary gave the horse full rein, hollering at her to hurry. They sped down the road, the wagon creaking and jolting as the horse gained speed.
John looked back at Josie, his eyes wild with hope. She bit her lip and hung onto the side of the wagon. Her kapp slipped and strands of her near-black hair came loose and whipped at her neck.
Let them be there. Let them be there! Let them be there! she chanted silently. Gott, please, let them be there.
Mary took the corners with frightening speed, her face grim with determination. Josie had never loved her friend more than at that moment.
“Up ahead!” Mary hollered against the wind. “It’s over there!”
John strained forward, nearly jumping from the moving wagon. Josie rose to her knees, clenching the side of the wagon, her knuckles white.
“Stop!” John cried.
Mary yanked up on the reins. The horse strained and slowed, jerking to a stop.
Josie stared at John. “Why? What is it?”
John kept his eyes on the barn ahead. “If he hears us, he might run.” He swung himself from the wagon. “I’m going in.”
“We’re coming, too,” Josie uttered. She scrambled out of the wagon with Mary right behind her.
John grabbed Josie’s hand, and they covered the distance to the barn as quietly as possible. Mary hung slightly behind. When they reached the broad splintery door, John paused and dropped Josie’s hand. He leaned toward the door, as if listening.
Josie did the same. She pressed her ear to the wood, and the rough surface scraped her cheek. Nothing.
She heard nothing.
Her chest tightened. Be there. Be there. Be there.
John gave her a look and then shoved on the door. It opened with a resounding crack, and streams of light flooded the dusty floor. Josie scanned the barn. John ran inside, running to each corner, throwing old boards and bales of hay out of his way.
“Look!” Josie yelled. She bent down and picked up a crumpled bib. She held it out to John. “It’s Emmy’s. She had it on when I put her down.”
“So they were here!”
Mary grabbed Josie’s arm and pointed to the far dark corner of the barn. “The loft!”
John was already scrambling up an old ladder nailed to the wall below the loft. Missing rungs disguised the fact that it was a ladder at all. John’s long legs stretched above the missing rungs as he climbed. A rush of adrenaline helped Josie scurry up behind him.
In the back corner, Ezra lurched to his feet, a terrified look on his face. Beside him, Emmy sat in the filth, her face smudged with dirt and pieces of straw sticking out of her hair.
“Dada!” she cried, clambering up on her chubby legs.
“Emmy!” John ran to her and grabbed her to him.
Josie raced across the uneven floor and put her arms around both of them, tears flowing down her cheeks.
John thrust Emmy into Josie’s arms.
“Stop!” he yelled at Ezra who was slinking toward the edge of the loft. “Stop, I tell you!”
Ezra swirled to face them. “I ain’t gotta do one thing you tell me!” he shouted. “How did it feel? Losing your kid? Huh? How did it feel?”
He rushed at John then, his fists out. But John was too quick. He grabbed Ezra’s arms and thrust them downward. Ezra fell to his knees.
“You stole my baby!” John said. “My innocent child!”
“Like you done stole mine!” Ezra screamed back.
“I never touched Benji. Not once!” John denied.
Ezra emitted loud, wailing cries that grated through the air. “You took my kid!” he raged. “You took my Benji! I know it was you who told Bishop.”
John didn’t move. He stood with hands fisted, looking down at Ezra, who was convulsing now with sobs.
“It’s your fault,” Ezra choked out. “And now he’s gone. He’s gone!” His voice broke, and he put his hands over his head. “He’s gone.”
Emmy had a stranglehold around Josie’s neck and her eyes were huge, watching Ezra. Josie rocked her back and forth, hushing her, murmuring in her ear.
John’s face was flushed, and he inhaled hard, the sound rising above Ezra’s broken weeping. A myriad of emotions played across his face, and his jaw tightened. And then something gave way, and Josie saw the anger in him fade and die. She watched with awe and wonder as her beloved knelt before Ezra.
And then John sank slowly back on his haunches. He glanced up at Josie, his eyes full of pity. He looked back to Ezra and put his hand on the man’s shaking shoulders. Ezra didn’t resist but only seemed to shrink further into himself.
“Benji is safe,” John said, his voice steady. “He’s with his mamm. They’re with kin, and they’re all right.”
Ezra dropped from his knees onto the floor. He shook his head over and over. “My boy is gone. My wife is gone. Everything’s gone. Everything. I done ruined it all.”
“Ezra,” John said, “listen to me. You can get help. They don’t have to be gone forever.”
Ezra’s sobs lessened, and his hands fell to his lap. He sat hunched and empty-looking, a discarded shell of a man.
Somewhere outside, a blackbird gave a throaty call. Emmy moaned softly and snuggled further into Josie’s neck. And then came the racing sounds of a horse galloping and the creak of a wagon pulling up and stopping.
Josie watched Dat, Thomas, and Bishop burst through the door of the barn. They looked up at her near the edge of the loft. Within minutes, they’d climbed up.
John stood and raised his hand. “It’s all right,” he told them. “Emmy is all right.” He indicated Ezra with a motion of his head. “Ezra will be acceptin’ your help, Bishop. He wants to go to that sanitarium you told me about.”
Josie’s eyebrows rose. Ezra hadn’t agreed to that at all. Her eyes darted to the forlorn figure on the floor, and she waited for him to argue, but he didn’t. He kept his head bowed, all fight gone, staring at his worn and scuffed black shoes.
The bishop walked slowly to Ezra and offered him an outstretched hand. Ezra looked up with red bleary eyes, and Josie could see the debate on his face. A flash of fear—or was it dread—appeared and then was replaced with a look of defeat. He reached up and accepted the bishop’s gesture.
Dat looked at Josie and patted Emmy Sue gently on the back. “You all right, daughter?”
“Jah, Dat.”
“And the boppli?”
“She’s okay, Dat.”
Josie closed her eyes and held the baby close. She breathed a prayer of gratitude as tears again sprang to her eyes. What would she have done if Emmy hadn’t been found? Or worse yet, had been harmed? She loved the little girl as her own. With a catch in her throat, she hugged Emmy closer yet.
Dat, Thomas, and Bishop climbed back down with Ezra in tow.
Josie inched her way down and John followed her, easily carrying Emmy Sue.
Mary stood next to Josie and squeezed her arm. “Ach, too much drama in this barn. If I hadn’t fallen in love here, I’d think it was cursed or something.”
Josie shook her head. “Nee, Mary. It’s not cursed. It’s blessed. We got the baby back. Ezra will get help. And maybe his family can be saved.”
Mary looked at her friend. “Ever the positive one, aren’t you?”
Josie tilted her head. “Maybe.”
“I’ll wait for you three in the wagon.” And Mary left them.
John walked to Josie and held both her and the baby in his arms. He began to shake, and Josie realized he was weeping. They stood pressed together until Emmy began to squirm.
“Hot,” she complained in her sweet high-pitched voice. “Hot!”
Josie began to giggle. John stepped back and looked in
to Josie’s eyes. The love she saw there set the world right.
“It’s okay now,” she whispered. “Everything’s okay.”
John ran his hand over his moist eyes and gave her a smile that reached her very soul. “We belong together, the three of us.”
It wasn’t a question—it was a stated fact.
Josie nodded. “That we do.”
“I think it’s time to make it official,” John said to her. “You busy come November?”
In answer, she stood on her tiptoes and touched her lips to his cheek. “Ach, your beard tickles,” she complained with a laugh.
“Get used to it, woman,” he answered. “I’ll be expecting kisses on a regular basis. If you agree to be my wife, that is.”
“Oh, I agree,” she answered, and she gloried in such a moment of relief and happiness and love.
John grinned and put his arm around her, and the three of them emerged from the barn into the warm afternoon sun.
The End
Thank you for reading this book! Are you wondering what to read next? Why not read Amish Days: The Runaway? Here’s a sample for you:
A smattering of rain landed on her face. It pinged, stinging her, and she realized it was more sleet than rain. She ran a few more paces down the road and tried to spot Jack, but he was gone into the night. She braced herself against a dull ache of foreboding.
She had to get him and bring him back. It was too cold—way too cold to be out. She rushed back to the house and smacked into Abram’s younger sister, Mercy.
“Mary!” Mercy cried, her eyes searching. “What are you doing out here? And where’s Jack? I saw him on the porch earlier. I was going to talk to him.”
“Mercy, can I borrow your bike?”
“What? In the dark?”
“Please, Mercy. It will only take a minute. I’ll be back before you know it.” Mary wiped the wet sleet off her cheeks.
Mercy’s face wrinkled, as if debating whether to agree or not.
“I can get my dat to help,” Mercy offered. “Are you going after Jack? Where did he take off to?”
“No need for your dat. Please, Mercy. It will only take a minute.”
“But it’s getting slippery.”
“It’s not too bad yet. Please. I could have been back by now! Can I borrow it or not?” Mary’s voice rose.
“All right.” Mercy ran off to the shed behind the barn. Mary followed, worry mounting in her throat.
Mercy pulled out her bike. “It’s got a battery light. Don’t know if it works.” She fiddled with the switch and a weak stream of light fell on the patch of gravel outside the shed.
Mary jumped on the bike. “Thank you, Mercy!” she cried, already pedaling down the drive. She wobbled slightly and worked to keep her speed in check. The ground had turned slippery. But she knew the road well, and how far could Jack have gotten anyway?
She needed to get him back before anyone else noticed he was gone. She bent her head against the icy rain and scolded herself once again for her sharp tongue. Why had she nagged Jack so? When would she learn to control her mouth?
With every turn of the bicycle wheel, Mary’s dress became heavier. The soggy fabric wound around her legs, making it hard to pedal. The going was slow and the weak light barely lit a few feet in front of her. Strands of icy hair pulled free from her kapp and dripped down her face, making it nearly impossible to see. She should have caught up with Jack by now. Surely, he wasn’t still running at top speed in this storm.
Mary’s legs pedaled slower and slower as the freezing rain drenched her. She was shivering now, and she set her teeth hard to keep them from chattering. The rain sat frozen on her lashes, and her hands felt welded to the handlebars.
She couldn’t go on like this. It would take too long, and she’d freeze. What had she been thinking? The crackle of a branches shifting under the weight of the falling ice sliced through the air. She skidded and lost her balance. With a bruising plunge, she fell onto the slick asphalt. Her leg twisted under her and she cried out in pain. Tears mixed with the streaks of sleet on her cheeks as she wriggled to a sitting position. Ignoring the pain in her leg, she stood.
The bike had slid into a ditch. Tightening her lips, she reached after it, planting her feet hard into the ground, so she wouldn’t fall into the ditch herself. Stretching her arm, she caught the handle bar and yanked with all her might. The bike dislodged and flew toward her, knocking her to the road. The bike crashed on top of her stomach. She lay sprawled on her back with freezing rain pelting her face. She wanted to wail, but her voice stuck in her throat. She felt the wet soak through to her back, and the pure absurdity of it all jolted her. Instead of crying, she held her hands over her face to block the sleet and a strange chortle rose in her throat.
There she lay, the girl who would always, always, always be in the shadow of her older sister. Her chortles grew heavy and warped and morphed into sobs.
Disgusted with herself, she shuddered and shoved the bike off of her stomach and struggled to an upright position. She debated what to do, and then, through the sound of the pelting rain, she heard the faint clip clop of hooves. A wobbly stream of light was coming her way. Relief swept through her.
She squinted through the rain and the dark, waiting for the horse. The cold jolted through her as the buggy closed in. She gave a violent shiver, and the crack of nearby tree branches made her jump. The buggy pulled up beside her and the door opened.
Josiah?
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More Hollybrook Amish Romance Books:
Amish Days: The Schoolteacher’s Baby
All John Beiler wants is to escape his grief.
He bundles up his baby daughter and flees to Hollybrook.
With a numb heart, he engages Josie Bontrager to care for his baby.
When he starts to fall for Josie, he resists. How can he risk loving again?
And wouldn’t it dishonor his deceased wife to have feelings for another?
Amish Days: The Decision
For Sally, leaving the Amish would mean leaving Zeke.
Can she ignore her feelings for him and turn her back on her dreams?
And all for a brother who doesn’t want her around?
Amish Days: Second Thoughts
“It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. We are from
two different worlds, you and me.”
Zeke gazed at her, his eyes filled with infinite sadness.
Sally won’t give up. But will she burn all the bridges
she’s worked so hard to build?
Amish Days: The Stranger
Who is this stranger? And does he have the legal right
to take her away as he claims? How can Sally convince the stranger to let her go?
And how will she ever get back to Zeke?
Amish Days 1: Missing Abram
Are Hope’s dreams of Abram only a fantasy?
Will his cousin Josiah try to step in?
Amish Days 2: Abram’s Plan
Mysterious relatives force Hope
to leave her Amish home.
While gone, her fiancé Abram is hurt.
Will he heal? Can she ever go back?
Amish Days 3: Abram’s Bride
Why is Abram refusing to marry Hope?
Hadn’t he promised her a November wedding?
Was she to be a jilted bride?
Amish Days: The Runaway!
Caught in a cocoon of cold and desperation,
will Mary admit her feelings for Josiah?
Will Josiah confirm Mary’s suspicions
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that it’s really her sister that he loves?
www.brendamaxfield.com
Amish Days: A Desperate Act: An Amish Romance Short Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 5