by Jan Drexler
Bram swallowed, a stone of regret lodged in his throat. Had he ever been this innocent?
“They’ll all sleep for a while after the excitement of the morning,” Ellie said as he returned to the kitchen.
“Ja, you’re right.” He stood in the center of the small room that spoke of Ellie everywhere he looked, from a jar of flowers on the table to the neatly folded dish towel draped over the pump handle. The serene order soothed the panic slamming around in his head ever since he had seen that Packard in LaGrange.
Every time he came to the conclusion that it couldn’t be Kavanaugh’s car, another part of his mind convinced him it was. It was as if the car was following him, haunting him with an unseen presence.
Ellie opened a cabinet door and got out two glasses. “I have some ice down in the cellar. Would you like some mint tea?”
“That sounds wonderful-gut, but if I’m going to stay for a while, I have to take care of Partner.”
“Ja. I’ll bring the tea to the glider. It’s shady out there.”
As Bram unharnessed the horse, his thoughts went to that maroon Packard again. There had been something about it that wasn’t quite right, and the answer hovered on the edge of his thoughts. He let Partner take a quick drink of water at the trough by the pump and then tied him to a tree in the side yard, where he could crop the grass along the shady side of the fence.
The sparse rows of strawberries caught Bram’s eye. Some of the plants were still holding on, and they had better survive, for Ellie’s sake. Her heart was set on making money from those berries, and any other year it would have been a sure thing, a good investment. But the way this summer was turning out, it looked as if she was going to lose everything.
He met Ellie at the glider and took the glass full of ice and green mint tea that she handed him. He breathed in the scent of mint as he took his first swallow. It gushed down his throat, cool and sweet.
“Ach, this is good. Where did you get the ice?”
“Years ago my Grossdatti built an icehouse. All the neighbors harvest the ice on Emma Lake in the winter, and we store it for them. Ben and Reuben brought a block for me yesterday, and I keep it packed in straw in the cellar.”
As Bram kicked at the grass under the glider, setting it in motion, his thoughts went back to that Packard. What could he do if that had been Kavanaugh? He had made the mistake of convincing himself they were safe in LaGrange, but he could never take Ellie’s safety for granted. He hated ruining the end of their day together, but he had to warn her about the danger.
“Are you feeling better?”
Ellie’s question interrupted his thoughts.
“What do you mean? I feel fine.”
“I just thought... I mean, ever since we left LaGrange you’ve seemed like you were upset about something.”
Either she knew him better than most people, or he was losing his touch at controlling his feelings.
“I’m sorry. It’s nothing to do with you or the children.” He had to tell her. He hated to have her living with the same caution he did, but if Kavanaugh came around, she had to know enough to protect herself from him.
“Ellie, I have to tell you—” He stopped, looking at her profile as she sat quietly, waiting for him to speak. What he had to tell her would ruin that trusting innocence. Wasn’t there another way?
* * *
Ellie wiped a thumb-wide swath through the condensation on her glass, waiting for Bram to continue.
“When I lived in Chicago, things were pretty rough.”
She glanced at him. He sat with his forearms resting on his legs, dangling the cold glass between his knees. She didn’t want to hear about his Englisch days, but he still belonged to that world.
“What do mean?”
He shrugged his shoulders and sat up, taking a drink of his tea. “You know, the mob, the cops.” He looked at her. “I did some things that you wouldn’t like.”
“Does it matter, what I would approve of?”
He took another swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watched Partner crop the grass along the fence. When he looked back at her, his eyes were dark with regret.
“Ja, Ellie, it matters. More than I ever thought it would.”
She looked away. Ja, it mattered.
“A man in my kind of work makes some enemies, and I made one of the worst kind.”
“Ach, Bram...” Ellie cast about in her mind for an answer, her heart breaking. “Our way is to love our enemies and to pray for them.”
“Not this kind of enemy.” Bram’s voice was harsh, his eyes focused on his glass. He upended it, draining it, and then turned to her. “I grew up hearing the teaching of the church, with the ‘love your enemies’ and all that, but I don’t think the church fathers dealt with the kind of men I’ve seen.”
“Ne, they didn’t have gangsters in the old country, but you know the stories of how our ancestors were persecuted and hunted down like criminals, and yet the doctrine of nonresistance stood the test during that time.”
“And how many died? Maybe they should have fought back. Maybe sometimes there are things worth fighting for.”
“Nothing is worth disobedience to Gott.”
“Even the safety of your children?”
Ellie choked down a sob in her throat. She didn’t know how she would act if someone threatened her children, but the church’s teaching was clear.
“We are not to resist those who are against us.”
Bram put his empty glass down in the grass as he stood, sending the glider rocking. He paced over to Partner and ran his hand along the horse’s neck and then abruptly turned back toward her.
“This man I’m looking for is evil, Ellie. He has killed before, and he’ll kill again without a thought. He would hurt you and the children only because I care about you. He has to be stopped.”
“With force? With violence?”
“He doesn’t understand any other way.”
Ellie shifted her eyes from his. Were there really such evil men in the world? Men beyond the reach of Gott Himself?
Bram knelt in front of her, capturing her hands in his, spilling her tea.
“Ellie, promise me, if you see an Englisch stranger hanging around, or if he comes to the farm...” Bram stopped. He wiped one hand across his eyes as if trying to erase a nightmare. “If you see anyone, tell me. Don’t talk to him. Don’t tell him anything.” Bram tightened his grasp on her hands. “Don’t...Ellie, don’t trust him. This man, his name is Kavanaugh, and he’s dangerous. If you see him, send someone to get me—Ben or Reuben. Can you do that?”
Ellie stared into his eyes, seeing her own fear reflected there. What would she do if this stranger came around? If she sent word to Bram, the way he asked, would he use violence against this gangster? On the other hand, if she warned Bram, perhaps he could escape from this man and save himself.
“Ja, Bram, I will, but only so you can avoid him. I don’t fear for myself, only for you.”
Bram reached one hand to that stubborn lock of hair that never stayed put and tucked it behind her ear.
“I’ll try my best to keep you safe, Ellie. You have my word on that.”
* * *
Bram kept Partner at a walk all the way home from the Stoltzfus farm. He had rushed out of LaGrange so fast that he had risked his horse’s health. Well, better risk the horse than Ellie and the children.
But then, really, what good would it have done? No matter how fast he pushed Partner, a car could overtake them. His mouth went dry as the scenario played itself out in his mind—he could have lost everything.
That Packard. One elusive detail flicked at the edge of his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to capture a picture of the car in his memory. Chrome. That car in LaGrange didn’t have any chrome trim. Bram laughed out loud
in his relief. What kind of idiot was he to be jumping at every car he saw?
But just as quickly, the memory of his panic sobered him. It could have been Kavanaugh just as easily as someone else. The gangster was in the area, and Bram was almost certain he had been recognized in Goshen that day with Matthew. As long as he stayed here, he would be haunted by his past.
Should he leave, then? Get back to his original plan and keep moving on? He had known he shouldn’t get tangled up with a woman.... Now it wasn’t just his safety he needed to worry about. This whole affair could cost both their lives.
In all his years of working and living undercover, living the lie that had become his life, he never thought he would let himself get ensnared like this. But this time was different—this assignment had been screwy from the beginning. Who ever heard of going undercover by being yourself? And now he was in trouble. Big trouble. Not only had he been spotted—maybe—but for the first time in his life, he wanted to stay in this cover.
For the first time in his life, he had something to work for, a life to build. If he was free of Kavanaugh, free of his past, he could turn his farm into something worthwhile, something for a family.
Bram rubbed his palm over his face.
Ja, in any other job he would say it was time to get out. But where would he go? Mexico was the only option he could see.
What about Ellie and the children? That morning’s trip had given him a glimpse of the family they could be together, but now that vision was slipping away as quickly as a piece of ice melting on a hot afternoon.
He loved her.
He couldn’t love her; he wouldn’t love her. Loving her would only make her a target for Kavanaugh, and he wouldn’t be foolish enough to risk that.
But it was too late.
He loved her.
He felt that now-familiar upsurge of calm, like a cool-silk breeze. God knew he loved her.
But what could he do? If he stayed here, they would all continue to be in danger. Kavanaugh was too close. If he had recognized Bram in Goshen that day, he wouldn’t give up until he found him. There was nowhere he could hide.
If he left...
If he left, he would be leaving Ellie behind.
Ellie and every hope for his future.
A sudden idea sent a chill through him. What if she went with him? He could buy another car. She and the children could come with him to Mexico. They could start a new life there and never have to worry about Kavanaugh again.
Partner turned into his lane and stopped at the barn door, but Bram didn’t move. He had to follow this thought through....
If Ellie came with him, they’d have each other. He’d take care of them. They’d have a ranch down there, and Johnny would love being a cowboy.
Partner tossed his head, pulling on the reins in Bram’s hands. They were home.
But as Bram climbed out of the buggy and opened the barn door, he knew it was useless. He couldn’t uproot Ellie from the only home she had ever known. If she came with him to Mexico, they’d have to leave more than just her family. Everything she knew and loved was here. Her home, her family, her faith, her heritage.
He knew now what he hadn’t known twelve years ago—his own identity was defined here, among the Amish. His heritage. He might be able to survive away from it, but he could never ask Ellie and the children to bear that burden with him.
But could he bear leaving without her?
Bram unhitched Partner and took his harness off. The horse was warm but not too hot. The time in the shady grass at Ellie’s house and then the slow walk home had been good for him. Bram got the currycomb and brush and began giving him a good grooming.
Bram tried to let his mind go blank as he concentrated on the familiar task, but the thoughts kept swirling.
“God, what should I do?” he prayed out loud, leaning on Partner’s back.
The idea came so suddenly, so clearly, Bram knew it couldn’t be anything but the answer to his prayer. His search for Kavanaugh had been fruitless so far—but he had been an Amishman hunting for an Englischer. To find an Englischer, he needed to be one. To find a gangster...
Ja, if he went deeper undercover, inserted himself into the seamier side of these towns surrounding him, he could track down that snake in the sewers where he lived, places no Amishman would go. He would need to use every skill he had honed during those years in Chicago. It would be dangerous, but there was no other way to find Kavanaugh.
And once Kavanaugh was arrested, he’d have no reason to leave.
Chapter Fifteen
Sunday’s weather was pleasant, and after the meeting at Deacon Beachey’s home, the men moved church benches into the shady backyard for the fellowship meal and visiting afterward.
Ellie sat with Annie Beachey watching the children play while Annie tried to calm her new baby, Micah. Ellie took the crying baby when his mother offered him to her.
“See if you can help him. After trying to keep him quiet all through the meeting, I’m exhausted.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Ellie held the wee bundle in her arms and rocked him. “It’s been so hot. Could it be heat rash?”
“Ja, he has heat rash and a terrible diaper rash. I just can’t seem to get rid of it.”
“Has he been eating well?”
“Ja, and your mam told me to give him some water, too, since it’s been so hot.” Annie stroked the baby’s head.
Ellie turned the baby so his stomach was pressed against her hand. He gave a loud belch.
“Do you think that’s what was wrong with him?”
Ellie smiled at her friend as the baby’s cries subsided. “Ja, I think so.”
She continued rocking little Micah. Ach, holding a baby was a sweet joy.
“I haven’t seen much of Bram lately,” Annie said. “Have you been able to talk with him often?”
Ellie looked across the shady yard at Bram, conversing with Dat and Matthew. She knew what Annie was really asking, but what could she say? Bram had become so important to her, but didn’t he still belong to his Englisch past? Did she have any right to think of him as more than a friend?
“Ne, I haven’t seen him for a week or so.”
“Ja, well, he must be busy with his work.”
“Ja, probably.” She didn’t tell Annie about the fears that kept her awake at night, the fears of a strange Englischer coming in search of Bram.
“Ach, Annie. There’s Miriam. I want to see how she’s doing.”
Ellie and Annie made their way to the bench where Miriam was sitting on the shady side of the house.
“I’m so glad you were able to come to church this morning,” Ellie said, rocking Micah back and forth.
“Ja, me, too,” Miriam said. “The rheumatism keeps Hezekiah in his chair so much that we don’t get out often anymore. Some days, he doesn’t even get out of bed.”
“I didn’t know it was so bad,” Ellie said.
“Ach, he didn’t want to burden others with our troubles, but I tell him it’s time. He can’t do everything on his own anymore.”
And if Daniel had lived, he wouldn’t have to. The thought made Ellie hot with shame. They shouldn’t have to ask for help; she should have offered sooner. But when would she have time to work on their farm?
“What can I do to help?”
“You don’t need to worry about us. Mr. Brenneman helps when he can.”
Just as Daniel would have.
“But when Mr. Brenneman finds another job, he won’t have the time.”
Miriam patted her hand. “The good Lord will take care of us. Hezekiah will find another neighbor to hire.”
Verna Bontrager, one of Miriam’s longtime friends, joined them on the bench. As the two older women visited, Ellie thought about Miriam’s words.
She should have seen this earlier. Hezekiah’s arthritis was worse every month, and yet it hadn’t occurred to her that he couldn’t do his work. Daniel planned that his farm and Hezekiah’s would be joined together, with the older couple’s small house as a Dawdi Haus, while Daniel and his children farmed the land. But none of them had foreseen Hezekiah’s advancing arthritis or Daniel’s death.
But what could she do? She had no money to pay for a hired hand and neither did Hezekiah. And yet if he didn’t hire someone, the crops would be ruined.
The strawberries should have brought her some security by next year, but now there were barely a dozen plants in each row that were surviving. It would be at least two more years before she could count on income from that source, and that was only if she could afford to buy new plants next spring.
She rubbed the line between her eyebrows. Her headache was coming back.
Gott, what am I to do?
* * *
“So you’re getting used to having a new baby in the house?” John Stoltzfus winked at Bram as he asked Matthew the question. Bram grinned back at him. Matthew hadn’t been able to talk about anything else all day.
“Ja, I am. I’ve gotten used to the night feedings, even. I’ve been able to get plenty of sleep.” Matthew’s face was serious as he started another lengthy discussion about his new son’s eating habits. John listened patiently, but Bram’s mind wandered to Ellie.
He had the perfect vantage point under this tree. He watched Ellie and Annie join some older women, Ellie holding Matthew’s new son, his nephew. The sight made his throat tight. What would it be like to see her holding his baby one day?
He shook his head and shut that thought behind a door. Not yet.
Can’t think about that now, not until Kavanaugh is taken care of.
He glanced her way again. She looked wonderful-gut in her new dress. She was visiting with Annie and an older woman he had never seen before, but that worry line was back again. Something was bothering her. Was one of the children ill?