Plain Peril

by Alison Stone

  Fannie Mae held out her arms and each girl took a hand. “Come now. Let’s get some proper clothes on and fix your hair.” She tugged at one of Emma’s curls, a playful tug.

  Hannah watched the girls walk away, and her heart broke into a million pieces.

  Lester followed his wife, leaving only Spencer and Hannah to watch the last bit of sun dip below the horizon. “Are you okay?” Spencer asked, his voice smooth and comforting.

  “I’m grateful I’m here for my mom. Please thank Mrs. Greene again for being so understanding that we broke our lease.”

  “Don’t worry. Focus on your mother.”

  Hannah nodded, exhaustion making her eyelids scratchy.

  “Go. Rest. I’ll make sure I have patrols check the property every hour.”

  “Isn’t that overkill?” A chill skittered up her spine. Who was she kidding? All indications were that someone was still after her.

  Hannah and Spencer stood looking at one another. The setting sun cast his handsome face in a beautiful glow. Something she didn’t dare explore squeezed her heart. Shaking her head to break the spell, she stepped back and looked down and waved her hand up and down her jean-and-T-shirt-clad body. “I’d better change into Amish Hannah.”

  He smiled. A sad smile. “Hey, Hannah.”

  She turned back around slowly. “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know if you can trust Lester. Please be careful.”

  Hannah’s eyes grew wide. “Do you think the girls are in danger?”

  Spencer shook his head. “You seem to be the primary target.”

  Target.

  She hated the harsh sound of that word. She let out a long sigh. “I have to be here for my mother.”

  “I know.” He sounded resigned.

  “For my mother’s benefit and out of respect for the Amish community, I have to put my heart into this.”

  “Your mother needs you.” What he didn’t say lingered between them.

  “Yes, she does.” It was time for her to be selfless for her mother, like her mother had been for her.

  “I’ll make sure you’re safe.” Something in his eyes told her he needed to keep her safe for reasons all his own.

  * * *

  Spencer climbed the steps of Mrs. Greene’s porch, tired, hungry and ready to flop on his couch and forget about the past few days. He had asked the two officers on duty tonight to alternate checking on Hannah at the Lapp farm every hour. He had also convinced Hannah to keep her cell phone close by.

  She promised she’d secure the locks at night.

  He opened the door and stepped inside the foyer. It smelled like garlic. At least some things go on as normal. Mrs. Greene had dinner on the stove.

  He smiled when he heard her shuffling footsteps, then the rattling of the doorknob. He suspected she watched all the comings and goings from the recliner positioned near the large window overlooking the yard.

  The door opened slowly, and Mrs. Greene peered up at him, her eyes wise from years of experience. “I half expected her to be with you. Didn’t think she’d really do it.” There was no need to clarify who she was.

  “Her mother’s sick.” His heart was heavy, far heavier than it should have been for a woman he had met on the job. Who was he kidding? It had become far more than just a job.

  “She’s a good daughter, then.” Mrs. Greene let her comment hang out there. She was good at eliciting conversation from him even when he didn’t feel like talking.

  “She’s doing what she feels is right.”

  “And you?” Despite her five-foot stature, she leveled a gaze at him that commanded his attention.

  “I liked it better when she was here so I could keep an eye on her.”

  Mrs. Greene lifted a suspicious eyebrow. “Is that the only reason?”

  “I’m afraid you’ve gotten to know me well, Mrs. Greene.” He mirrored her raised eyebrows.

  “I raised three sons.”

  Spencer let out a long breath. “I don’t begrudge Hannah for being there for her mother.” Even if it meant they couldn’t be together.

  And his conscience couldn’t have him hoping her mother would die soon.

  As if reading her mind, Mrs. Greene asked, “How is Mrs. Wittmer?”

  “As well as can be expected. She’s refusing any major medical intervention. She only agreed to drugs to control the seizures and the pain.”

  Mrs. Greene patted his cheek. “You’ll be fine, my dear boy. You’ll be fine. A handsome man like you will meet some nice young woman.” She pressed her index finger to her mouth. “My friend Mildred has a granddaughter...”

  Spencer waved her off and laughed. “Cut a guy a break.”

  “Cut yourself one, too.”

  “Night, Mrs. Greene.”

  Mrs. Greene held up a hang-on-a-minute finger. She pivoted in her slippers, her colorful housecoat a sight to see, and scooted into her apartment. She returned a minute later with a covered dish. “I figured you didn’t have a chance to eat dinner. I made you my meat loaf.”

  He smiled. “I love your meat loaf.”

  “I know.” She crossed her arms, a smug expression on her face.

  * * *

  That night, Hannah made sure her mother was comfortable with tea and her knitting next to her rocker. Her mother wasn’t quite ready for bed and wanted to sit up for a bit.

  Hannah, still dressed in her English clothes, planned to collect some of Ruthie’s Amish clothes from the main house and while there, check on Emma and Sarah. Hannah hated to let the girls out of her sight, but it only made sense to allow them to sleep in their old house.

  Hannah stepped outside, and the sound of crickets filled the night air. The rich smell of earth reached her nose. There was something very comforting, soothing, nostalgic about the country life. A comfort she had never found in the city.

  Most of her life, Hannah felt like she had been caught between two worlds. Never quite fitting in either.

  Out by the street, a police cruiser slowed down. She knew it wasn’t Spencer’s. He had told her he had the rest of the night off. She waved, and the officer flicked his headlights in acknowledgement.

  Hope pushed out her anxiety. Maybe whoever was so determined to bother her would back off once he thought she had committed to returning to the Amish faith. Unless, of course, his motive was to have her gone. Period. She stifled a shiver.

  Hannah raced up the few steps to her sister’s home, now Fannie Mae and Lester’s. She knocked, feeling a little foolish since this has been her home not long ago. Lester pulled open the door as if he had been waiting for her. His mouth compressed, and his eyes narrowed just a fraction.

  “I need to get clothes.” Hannah wanted to diffuse the situation before it got volatile.

  He stepped away from the door and kept on walking. Hannah didn’t see Fannie Mae, so she entered the house and went directly upstairs. In her sister’s old room, Hannah grabbed a few dresses from the trunk where she had stored them. For half a minute, she considered changing into the dress, then realized that would be silly. It was almost time to get ready for bed. She didn’t want to create more laundry for herself. She swiped at her jeans and decided she wouldn’t risk hanging them out on the line. She couldn’t afford to replace more clothes.

  But you won’t need your English clothes anymore.

  She rubbed the back of her neck, praying God would guide her toward the right path.

  Hannah hustled out of her sister’s old bedroom, feeling like an interloper now that Lester and Fannie Mae were living there. Sleeping there. Across the hall she found Sarah reading to Emma. Hannah’s heart expanded when she realized it was the Little House on the Prairie book she had given Sarah. She stood in the doorway for a few minutes, taking in the scene, not wanting to disturb them. They bot
h had long pajama dresses on, reminiscent of those she had seen the actress Melissa Gilbert wearing in the old TV show adapted from the books.

  The thought that she’d have to show the girls that program left as quickly as it came. Sarah and Emma wouldn’t be watching TV anytime soon, if ever.

  Was that such a bad thing?

  Emma was the first to notice her aunt standing in the doorway. She scooted off the bed and ran over to Hannah and wrapped her arms around her aunt’s waist. “Are you going to stay here?”

  Hannah placed the clothes down on the chair near the door. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. She flicked her thumb toward the dawdy haus. “I’ll stay with Granny.”

  “I’m glad she’s not sick anymore.” Clearly, Emma assumed her grandmother’s homecoming meant she was all better. She gave Emma a little squeeze. Sarah looked up from her book for the first time.

  “Everything okay?” Hannah asked.

  Sarah shrugged.

  Hannah guided Emma over to the bed. Hannah sat next to Sarah and pulled Emma onto her lap. “Are you not happy here?”

  Sarah scratched her hair, where her bun met the back of her neck. “I liked school.”

  “You can go to school.”

  Sarah shyly shook her head. “I liked my new school.”

  Hannah’s heart thundered in her ears. She suddenly felt guilty. Poor Sarah and Emma were unwitting pawns in her indecisive life.

  Hannah cleared her throat. “Right now, you can’t go to Apple Creek Elementary.” She bit her bottom lip, wondering if there was any way she could make arrangements. It was impossible, given the circumstances.

  Sarah slumped into her pillow. “Mrs. Gallivan said I’m good at math.”

  “I have an idea. Why don’t I talk to your old teacher and get the assignments and we can work at home together.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Sarah’s entire face transformed from glum to hopeful with one little word.

  “I like math, too,” Emma said, resting her head on Hannah’s shoulder.

  “I can help you with math, too.”

  “Girls, I think it’s time for bed.” Lester appeared in the doorway, looking stern. Hannah almost jumped out of her skin. How long had he been standing there?

  “Did you brush your teeth?” Hannah forced a smile, trying to ease the nerves clawing at her throat.

  Both girls nodded.

  “Then I guess you’re ready for bed.” Hannah took the book from Sarah’s lap and set it on the nightstand. She stood, and Emma climbed into the warm spot next to her sister. “Night girls. See you in the morning.”

  “Night, Aunt Hannah,” they said in unison, using the English word aunt and not aenti as they had when she first arrived.

  Hannah gave them one last tuck and a kiss on the forehead. She scooped the dresses up from the chair and brushed past Lester, whose anger was rolling off him in waves.

  Smiling smugly, as if she had won a small battle today, Hannah descended the steps. As she was coming down, Fannie Mae hustled up. “Are you ready for bed, girls?”

  Hannah stopped on the steps. “They’re all set.”

  Fannie Mae gave her a sidelong glance and kept climbing the stairs. Hannah reached the door and stepped outside onto the porch. The cool air felt good on her fiery cheeks. Gloating from her one small win had been fleeting.

  Hannah drew in and released several deep breaths, hoping to calm her emotions. She felt like she was losing everything that was important to her. The door opened behind her. Hannah swiped away at her tears and squared her shoulders. The heavy footsteps told her it was Lester. Her heart dropped. He approached and eyed her English clothes and the bundle of Amish clothing in her arms.

  He took off his straw hat and rubbed his head. “Fannie Mae and I would love those girls as our own.”

  “I...I...” Hannah’s mouth went dry, and she couldn’t form the words.

  “My father believes your mother’s illness has brought you back again. To fully commit to the Amish way.” He leaned in close. He smelled of hay and horse and apple butter. “Yah, well, I don’t think that’s your plan.”

  Their gazes locked. She made a conscious decision not to lie to him.

  She had done enough lying to herself.

  * * *

  Hannah rolled over for what seemed to be the hundredth time on the tiny cot she had set up in the sitting room of her mother’s small home. She tugged on the quilt and covered her shoulder, unable to get comfortable. She held her breath and listened intently for any sign her mother was in distress. She resisted the urge to get up and go into her room. Last time she had, her mother said, “I’m not dead. Yet.” The droll tone was very uncharacteristic of her mother.

  The physician had rattled off all the potential effects of a growing tumor as it pressed on the brain. Hannah suspected she was trying to frighten her mother into agreeing to treatment. But you can’t frighten a woman who has her faith, and a woman who is more afraid of the treatment than the effects of not treating it.

  Resigned that sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon, Hannah swung her feet over the edge of the cot and sat up. The cool evening air touched her skin, sending a chill skittering down her spine. Wrapping the quilt around her shoulders, she stood. As if lured by worry, she found herself lurking in her mother’s doorway. Her mother rolled over and tugged at her sheet.

  Regret for all the years she had been estranged from her family weighted heavily on her. All the years she had missed.

  A creak on the front porch made her breath hitch in her throat.

  Creak.

  Hot tingles swept across her scalp. Clutching the quilt closer to her shoulders, she moved silently through the small home. She slid open the drawer in the hutch and pulled out her cell phone. The reality of how vulnerable she was out here on the farm struck her. Even if she dialed Spencer’s number, how fast could he get here?

  She heard a quiet knock and a voice, “Aunt Hannah?”

  Hannah dropped the phone on the doily her grandmother had made and ran to the door. She undid the bolt and flung the door open.

  “Sarah?” Confusion swirled in her head. Deep in the house, she heard her mother cough then grow quiet. Hannah stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door over, leaving it ajar so she could hear her mother.

  “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

  Sarah lifted and dropped her shoulders. Perhaps she had lost her nerve for whatever had brought her out into the night.

  Hannah guided Sarah to the steps and they sat. Staring into the dark yard, Hannah waited. Out by the street, a lamppost lit a small sphere of country road. Finally, Sarah shifted to face her. “I’m sorry for being grumpy.”

  Hannah smiled. She remembered her mother using that expression anytime Hannah or her sister Ruthie was in a bad mood. It was such a pleasant way of saying they had been downright intolerable. Ruthie must have repeated the expression to her daughters.

  Hannah took a chance and reached out and wrapped her arm around her niece’s shoulder. Sarah leaned her head on Hannah’s shoulder, and Hannah’s heart expanded. “You’ve lost a lot, sweetie. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

  Sarah looked up. Tears glistened under the moonlight. “I don’t want to lose you, Aunt Hannah.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you’re not going to lose me.”

  “Mem always told me what a great sister you were. She told me and Emma we needed to always look out for each other.”

  A band tightened around Hannah’s lungs making it hard to catch a breath. Had she been there for her sister?

  “I wasn’t always the best big sister. I wish I could have been there for your mem when she really needed me.”

  Sarah swiped at a tear. “Mem always spoke fondly of you.”

&nb
sp; “You seem wise for a little girl.”

  “I’m not so little.”

  “You’re young enough that you shouldn’t have had to deal with so many adult problems.”

  “I promise I’ll be nicer to Emma.”

  Hannah swatted at a mosquito. “Are your worries keeping you awake?”

  Sarah’s voice got very tiny. “I thought if I was nice to you it meant finally accepting that Mem was...” She bowed her head and her shoulders shook.

  Hannah pulled her closer. “I’ll never replace your mem. No one can. But I’ll try to be the best aunt ever.”

  Sarah sucked in a shaky breath. “When you leave, I want to go with you.”

  Hannah pulled back to look into Sarah’s eyes. “Why do you think I’m going to leave?”

  “I heard Uncle Lester talking to Aunt Fannie Mae. He said that Emma and me would be staying with them.”

  Hot anger pulsed through Hannah’s veins. Footsteps crunched on the dried bent grass. Pinpricks of apprehension coursed across Hannah’s skin. She reached up and grabbed the handrail, rising to her feet even as her knees felt weak. She scanned the yard.

  Maybe it was an animal.

  Hannah was about to urge Sarah to go inside, when a deep voice boomed from the shadows.

  “What are you doing out of bed, Sarah?”

  The anger in Lester’s voice vibrated through Hannah. It slammed her back to another time. Her father’s harsh reprimand. Followed by his firm hand. Hannah squared her shoulders. “Sarah was feeling unsettled—”

  “Of course she feels unsettled. You’ve pulled her away from the only home she’s ever known. She should have stayed here. Where she belongs.”

  Sweat slicked her palms. Suddenly, she felt very exposed. Alone. Defenseless.

  Her phone was inside the house on the hutch.

  Hannah leaned down and whispered into Sarah’s ear, “Go inside. Lock the door. My cell phone is on the table. Call Spencer.”

  The word why formed on Sarah’s lips when Lester exploded. “Stop corrupting the child.”

  Sarah got to her feet and sprinted inside, but the door yawned open. She willed the child to close and lock it.