by Ashley Emma
She bit her lip to keep from crying. Dread settled like a brick in her chest as she thought of the day she would have to leave again.
She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. That was all out of her control. For now, she had to apologize to her relatives and focus on keeping her cover and doing her job.
And not falling for Isaac again.
She sure had her work cut out for her.
Liv pulled into the drive. She had to face this just like any other mission she was assigned. Just do it and get it over with.
She helped Isaac out of the car and led him to the front door, definitely feeling the warmth of his hand on her arm and the heat oozing through her body like warm honey. But it was the last thing on her mind. She stared at the front door.
Would they still welcome her? After all these years when she had made no effort to contact them? No phone calls, no letters… It had been too painful for Liv to talk to them after she had left, so she had slashed all ties to this place.
The door seemed to grow larger with every step they took toward it, and for a moment Olivia feared it would swallow her whole. She silently chided herself on her foolishness.
When they approached it, Liv hesitated, so Isaac knocked.
She wished she could have called before showing up like this, but like the other Amish families, the Masts didn’t have a phone in their house. There were only phones in the phone shanties and in businesses, and she’d have to rely on someone taking them a message, revealing her arrival to others before she was ready. Besides, they probably wouldn’t have gotten the message in time.
The door opened, and Maria stood there. She was no longer the child Liv remembered. Her cousin was now a beautiful, tall young woman with big brown eyes and brown hair peeking out from under her head covering. Instantly her hands flew to her mouth and she shrieked, “Mamm! Come quick! Olivia’s home!” Then she threw her arms around Olivia, who almost lost her balance. Liv held onto Maria tightly as memories of when she had lived in this house came rushing back, along with feelings of joy and safety.
Aunt Mary came running to the door in a frenzy, calling Olivia’s name, waving a damp dish towel. She threw herself onto Olivia, tears running down her face. Isaac leaned against the railing and smiled.
“Oh, you’re back,” Aunt Mary kept saying, crying into Olivia’s shoulder. Olivia wrapped her arms around her aunt, knowing she was about to cry as well.
Yes, she was happy to see her relatives. But her tears of joy mingled with tears of guilt.
Before they stepped apart, she worried one of them would feel her gun beneath the layers of her dress as they embraced. So she pulled away, already missing the warmth and love of Aunt Mary’s arms around her.
“Come in, come in! We have so much to talk about!” Aunt Mary ushered her inside. “You’re just in time for dinner. Gideon will be home soon. He’ll be so glad to see you.” She seemed to notice Isaac for the first time. “Isaac, would you like to stay for dinner?”
“Yes, thank you. Then Liv will bring me home so I can see my family.”
“Excellent. Come in.”
Aunt Mary’s hair was almost entirely gray and white beneath her kapp. When Liv had left it had been a light brown with only a few streaks of gray.
So much could happen in six years.
They walked into the kitchen, which was exactly how it had been the day she had left. The wooden cabinets made by Uncle Gideon, the bright sunroom with large windows, the black woodstove radiating heat, and the simplicity of the almost bare walls brought back memories of when she had lived there. The window at the kitchen sink overlooked the fields and trees.
The wooden, handcrafted, rustic table still had four seats. How many times had they thought of her over the years while looking at the empty fourth chair?
Aunt Mary had a large pot of stew simmering on the woodstove, and the smell of bread baking in the oven wafted to her the second she stepped inside. She had baked so many breads, apple dumplings, and pies with Aunt Mary and Maria in this kitchen. How she had missed such wonderful, homemade food. It was so much better than the frozen foods and takeout she had become accustomed to.
“Sit down. Tell me everything. What have you been doing all this time? What made you come back? Are you here to stay?” Aunt Mary poured out the questions like the tea she poured out of her teapot. She slid a mug of lemon tea toward Olivia. Lemon was Liv’s favorite, and Aunt Mary had remembered. Maria pulled her chair closer to Liv’s and sat down, eagerly awaiting a reply.
“I’ve been working at a local restaurant in Portland, saving up money. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do from there, but I realized the Englisher life was not for me. It is so empty.” She blew on her tea and hoped she was a good liar.
“Indeed. I’m just so glad you’re back, dear. Oh, I’m so sorry to neglect you, Isaac. How are you feeling after your accident?” Aunt Mary gave him a mug.
It was an attack. There’s a big difference. But the Amish would refer to his attack—any attack—as an incident or accident.
“I had a concussion, but I’m doing well now. Except I can’t remember what happened that night. Liv thinks my memory might come back now that I am home and around familiar surroundings.” Isaac warmed his thick fingers on the mug.
“I pray it does.” Aunt Mary nodded.
“So the Englisher life is not all you thought it would be?” Maria asked as her eyes widened. She pulled her chair a little closer to Liv.
“No. People have cars, nice things, and fancy homes, and they are always communicating on phones and computers. But it’s all so impersonal. Here, on these farms, even though it takes longer to visit someone and you can’t text or email your friends, you’re all so much closer to each other. There is a bond of community and friendship here so strong you can sense it. In the Englisher world, people usually only care about themselves. Here, you all take care of each other.” A frown pulled down her smile. “Most of the time.”
Silence overshadowed the room for a moment.
“I am so sorry about what happened, Liv.” Aunt Mary walked over and rested a hand on Olivia’s arm. “I understand why you had to leave.”
“When Jake died, I couldn’t face anyone. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.” Usually confident, Liv couldn’t look her aunt in the eye.
“It’s all right. We got the letter.”
“I was so afraid, and I left so quickly. I know people here try not to judge others, but how can one not judge a woman who killed her husband when they don’t know the full story? I didn’t think people would believe me, and I didn’t blame them for it because no one knew the truth about Jake. I know I would never… I mean, I knew I wouldn’t fit in. Besides, my family died here. I just didn’t see any other option.”
“We really do understand,” Maria said in a soothing voice.
Liv stubbornly blinked back tears. “I went to court after I left. The jury ruled it self-defense when they saw the pictures of the bruises on my body and the marks on my neck, and when they heard Isaac and me testify.”
Aunt Mary nodded. “Maybe you should explain what happened to the church.”
Liv snorted out a laugh. “Diana and Samuel would love that.”
“That’s a tricky situation. People should know the truth, but you’re right. They won’t like people to know Jake was abusive toward you,” Isaac said. “I think you should tell the truth, Liv, so people understand why you protected yourself. Besides, the Bible says to speak the truth.”
“You’re right. On Sunday, when I repent, I will tell the story.”
The front door opened and Uncle Gideon stood in the doorway. His eyes met Liv’s and he froze. He let out a sob and ran into the kitchen with his muddy boots still on.
This time, Liv couldn’t maintain her tough composure. She held onto his shirt and bit her lip, trying to keep the tears away, but she couldn’t stop them. She had only seen Uncle Gideon cry maybe once or twice in her life. He rarely cried, but when he did, Li
v always cried, too.
He squeezed her in his arms so tight she thought she might break, but she didn’t mind. A sense of home enveloped her, and she wished she could stay here forever.
She had forgotten what home felt like. What family felt like.
What love felt like. To be loved—it was such a powerful thing. And since she had left Unity, she had been starved of it. For the past six years she had had no family, no close friends, and no true home, only an empty apartment.
And her career. It had been everything to her. And it still was. She loved her job. It was why she got up every morning—to help people, to rescue people.
To arrest guys like the one who killed Bill Sullivan and knocked out Isaac. She wanted to arrest attackers like those so they couldn’t hurt anyone else.
*
After an evening of reminiscing and catching up, Liv brought Isaac home. The drive took less than a minute, but she didn’t want him walking home in his condition.
“Still looks the same as when I left.” Liv gestured to his small wooden house and pulled into the dirt driveway. Even though the Amish of Unity didn’t have cars, they still used driveways for their buggies and for Englisher visitors who had cars.
“It was nice of all the men to pitch in to help me build this. It’s small, but it’s just me, so it’s good enough.”
Something in her heart fluttered. He wasn’t married. Why hadn’t a nice man like Isaac found a woman yet? How many admirers did he have? Surely all the young single women had their eyes on him. Was he interested in any of them in return?
“Thanks for staying. It was good to have you there.” She tapped the steering wheel awkwardly.
“No problem. I’m glad I could help. It’s really good to have you back. I missed you.” He turned toward her.
Just get out of the car, Isaac. She needed space before this got out of hand and he tried to kiss her or something.
I can’t believe he missed me.
The tender thought almost made her let her guard down, but she caught herself. She cleared her throat. “Well, thanks again. Good night,” she said, finality in her tone.
“Good night.”
“Need help?”
“No, I’ll be okay.”
Liv didn’t ask him if he was sure, but she kept a close eye on him as he hobbled to his front door.
Liv backed out of the driveway and drove down the lane. She found herself driving to where her childhood home used to be before it had burned down. She got out of the car and stood at the edge of the road, staring into the openness.
Now it was just a field, but all those years ago it had been a thriving, colorful farm. Her father had been a farmer who brought his produce to the local grocery store. Her mother had been an avid gardener and a hard worker. The house had always been alive with chatter and delightful chaos, the good kind of chaos, as it had sheltered her and her five siblings—Joe, Marcia, Heather, Allen, and blonde little Beth. Beth had only been five...
A sob choked Olivia as she stared at the empty land. The charred remains were no longer visible. The community had cleaned it up years ago. All that remained was the old foundation. Someone had planted some flowers. Someday, would someone else build a new house there?
Maybe, if things had turned out differently, she would have been living in a house there by now—with Isaac. Maybe with kids of their own.
Yes, that was what would have happened if she had not fallen for Jake. Her heart twisted with the thoughts of what if?
No. She couldn’t ask herself that. Just like what she told victims and their families, what if’s will drive you crazy. It would be better to not think about it.
As she stared at where her house used to be, the memories of the night of the fire slowly leaked into her mind like kerosene. She had been coming home late one night after sneaking out again, and she had seen the smoke before she had seen the house. Flames devoured her home like a roaring lion.
The closest neighbors at the time were several fields away, too far away to notice in time, and sound asleep. And her father had been against smoke detectors, the very thing that could have saved the lives of his family.
She remembered running around the corner, past the trees and the barn, to see the house in flames. No neighbors lived near enough to hear her scream pierce the night. What should she do?
Should I go in and try to get them out or should I call the fire department?
She screamed again, this time in frustration. Valuable seconds ticked on while she deliberated. There was no way a petite sixteen-year-old girl like herself would be able to rescue them all.
Her vision tunneled, her heart rate increased. Nausea set in. A panic attack overwhelmed her. She tried to take deep breaths, tried to keep herself from passing out—she wouldn’t be able to run if she was unconscious. Once she finally regained her composure enough, she turned to run to the phone shanty.
A figure moved slowly away from the house.
“Daed?” Was that him? Why was her father moving so slowly, so carefully, while his family was trapped inside a burning house? Or maybe it was a neighbor.
He froze, then turned toward her. This man was definitely not her father or a neighbor. She gasped when she saw the strange angry-clown mask on his face, and he held up something small and rectangular. Was that a box of matches? It was hard to tell from a distance. Confirming her suspicions, the man opened the box and lit one while staring at her. Chills crawled down her spine, and she felt as though all the blood was draining from her body.
Fear gripped her, and all she could do was stare back at him.
Who was that? Why was he doing this? Who was still alive? A dozen questions swarmed through her mind like angry ravens.
Then he darted away and escaped into the darkness.
She sprinted down the lane to the nearest phone shanty and dialed 911 with shaking fingers.
But she was too late. The trucks were too late.
No one survived…except her and the elusive arsonist.
Liv had wanted to let the police investigate, but the bishop would not allow her to answer their questions.
“This tragedy was God’s will. It is up to him to bring vengeance, not us. Leave it in God’s hands, Olivia,” Bishop Johnson had said, his beard bobbing. “We should not answer their questions about the fire.”
She wanted to shake his shoulders as if to wake him up from a trance. “My entire family is dead! You expect me to just go on and live my life with no answers? I want to know who set my house on fire!”
“I understand, Olivia. But sometimes God does not give us the answers we want. Now, please, if you cannot contain yourself, I will ask you to leave. You must forgive the arsonist and move on. It is the Amish way. Do not hold bitterness in your heart.”
Liv stood up from the table where they had been sitting, practically knocking her chair over. She hadn’t been able to forgive the person who killed her family.
She never could.
A twig snapped in the woods somewhere in the distance, bringing Liv back to the present with a jolt. She whipped around and put her hand on her leg holster, wondering if she should remove the weapon and possibly blow her cover. She listened intently as a breeze blew over her, sending chills shivering all over her body, rustling and shuffling the leaves on the trees like small green paper hearts. Another branch crunched, closer this time. She moved carefully to her car.
“I’m watching you, Olivia.” The scratchy, deep masculine voice rode on the breeze from somewhere in the trees that no longer seemed so far from her. Her blood froze, a sick feeling churning in her gut. Was it the same voice from the man in the black car? The voice was so deep and gravelly that it sounded as if he was trying to make his voice sound different on purpose.
“You still mourn the ones who died here, don’t you? You miss your family.”
She stood on the other side of her vehicle, using it as protection as she carefully drew her M&P Shield. Her throat closed up. She wanted to shout angry
words, accusations and questions, but fear stole her voice.
How did he know about the fire?
“You never did find the arsonist. That must eat at you.”
Every day it did, but he didn’t have to know that. She clicked the gun’s safety off.
“Why did you come back here after all these years?” he asked.
She definitely couldn’t answer that question. She clutched the pistol tighter, searching the darkness for any sign of movement, but it was as if no one was there. As if she was imagining things.
“If you go, I won’t harm you. You should leave now while you still have the chance.”
“No way,” she muttered.
“What was that?” he asked, his tone condescending and sinister.
“I said there’s no way I’m leaving!” she screamed, wanting to raise her weapon and fire a few warning shots, but she couldn’t. She clenched her fists, her nails cutting into her palms.
“That’s a nice fender you got there. You really should be more careful. You never know what sort of accidents could occur, especially if you’re going to stay here.”
This was the same man who had crashed into them on the road here! So he had followed them here after all the precautions she had taken. The desire to arrest him burned hotter and fiercer within her.
Was this the same man who killed Bill Sullivan?
Her heart pounded as she listened to him, incensed with his threatening words. She had to stay. If she left, there would be no investigation, no way for this man to be caught.
“Leave right now. Get in your little beat up car and drive home.”
“It’s going to take a lot more than a few threats to scare me.” She stood up straighter and allowed her voice to carry over the field.
“You’ll see that I’m not bluffing, dear.”
That was it. She couldn’t stand there any longer and listen to this narcissist. She tore off toward the voice in the woods, sprinting as hard as she could, pumping her legs until she reached the woods. When she entered into the canopy of the trees, she stopped and listened, shining the light on her cell phone.