by Diane Burke
Sarah grinned. Cookies might bring joy to the men, but for her, it was witnessing the strong and loving bond between the two people who were turning out to be the only family she had.
Sam and Jacob kept the conversation at the table flowing. They discussed hopes for the fall’s harvest, the farmer’s market prices, the plans for next year’s planting.
Sarah smothered a yawn with her hand, and immediately Rebecca rose from the table. “You must be exhausted after today’s journey, child.” She picked up one of the oil lamps. “Come, I will show you your room.”
Sam stood, clasped Sarah’s elbow and helped her to her feet. His touch sent a surge of energy through her body, leaving tingles and confusion in its wake.
“Rebecca is right.” Sam gently trailed a finger down her cheek. “You need your rest.”
His eyes darkened with an intensity Sarah didn’t understand. As they gazed into each other’s eyes, there was an intimate pull between them, almost as though they were the only two people in the world.
More confused and disconcerted about the feelings that were growing for this man, Sarah broke eye contact and took a step away.
They were right. She was more than tired. She was exhausted, weak and disheartened. She’d expected a flood of memories to burst forth once she’d seen the farm, and she could barely hide her bitter disappointment when it did not happen.
Sarah followed close behind Rebecca, her path illuminated by the oil lamp Rebecca had given her. Rebecca paused outside a door to the right of the stairs, opened it and stood aside, looking hopeful and expectant.
Sarah recognized Rebecca’s expectation. She was hoping that once Sarah entered the bedroom, her memory would return. She couldn’t fault the woman; she longed for the same thing and dreaded that it wouldn’t happen.
She stepped inside. The oil lamp bathed the room in a soft glow. She noted the pretty patchwork quilt on the double bed, the plain curtains at the two windows, the rocking chair beside a sturdy table that held a Bible.
Sarah’s eyes missed nothing, and her heart grew heavy. She released the breath she’d been holding. Nothing. No memories. No feelings. No past. She could barely turn to face Rebecca.
The older woman forced a smile to her face, hurried to the chest against the wall, pulled out a clean, fresh, cream-colored floor-length flannel gown and laid it out on the bed. “Will you need me to help you dress?” Rebecca glanced at Sarah’s sling.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
Rebecca nodded. “This should keep you warm, but if you find the gown and quilt are not enough, please come and tell me. The nights this time of year can sometimes chill a person to their bones.” She crossed to the door. “If you need anything, child, anything at all, our room is only three doors down on the right.”
“Danki.” Sarah answered in the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect, but she wasn’t sure if it was something she was pulling from her memory or something she’d heard so many times over the past few weeks that it felt natural saying it.
After Rebecca left, she placed the oil lamp on the nightstand. It was a struggle to get out of her clothes and don the flannel gown, but she managed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she glanced around the shadowed room. That’s how her mind felt—a mixture of clear images, shadows and darkness. Would she ever remember her former life?
It was frustrating not to remember anything of her childhood, her teens, her adulthood. Questions swirled through her mind.
What kind of person was she? Was she kind and loving, or did she have a selfish streak? Was she hardworking or lazy? Had she laughed easily, loved deeply, or was she more withdrawn and quiet?
Everyone in this small community knew the answers to her questions. Why couldn’t she find those answers within herself?
A tear slid down her cheek. She felt so afraid and alone.
But she wasn’t alone, was she? The thought brought her comfort, and she began to pray.
* * *
In the bright light of morning, Sarah took the opportunity to study her surroundings. The room was clean, neat and simple. A plain wooden oak chest stood against a far wall. Small oval rag rugs rested on each side of the bed to warm one’s feet against the chill of the wooden floor. Two hooks hung on the wall next to a small closet. Were they to hold the next day’s clothing? Or perhaps a man’s hat? Peter’s?
The thought reminded Sarah that in the not too distant past, she’d shared this room with someone. Someone she’d been told she loved. She spread her hands over the slight swell of her belly. That love had created this new life.
Even if she had no mental images of Peter, she was certain she’d have a clearer picture of the man when this child was born. She would only have to look at the child’s eyes, or the color of hair, or the tiny baby smile, and she would be able to “see” her husband. If nothing else, she was certain that at that moment she would feel love for the man who had given her such a precious gift. But would she ever remember Peter himself, and the life they’d shared?
Dr. Clark had warned her not to expect too much of herself, that memories would come gradually, if they came at all, and not to stress over it.
Easier said than done.
Sarah couldn’t deny that she’d had huge expectations when she’d come home. As foolish as it might seem now, she’d believed that once she actually saw her home, her memory would return. Disappointment left a bitter taste in her mouth and her heart heavy. But she wouldn’t let it color the day. She would be grateful that she was home and healing.
Sarah followed the rich, mouthwatering aroma of coffee and freshly baked bread downstairs to the kitchen. “Good morning, Rebecca.”
The woman spun around from the sink. “Guder mariye. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, danki. The trip home must have tired me more than I thought. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.”
“Did sleeping in your own bed help you remember anything?”
Rebecca’s expression held such hope, and Sarah’s inability to give the woman the answers she longed for filled her with guilt and sorrow.
“I didn’t remember anything. I didn’t even dream last night.” When she saw the light in Rebecca’s eyes dim, pain seized her heart. “I’m so sorry. I know you were hoping for more from me.”
“The only thing I am expecting from you, child, is for you to do your best to regain your health. Nothing more. You will remember in God’s time if He desires it.” Her brow furrowed. “Should you be out of bed? I was fixing a tray to bring to your room.”
“I was just about to ask that same question.”
Sarah didn’t have to turn around to know that Samuel stood behind her. He filled every room he entered with a strong, masculine presence. Besides, she would recognize the deep, warm tones of his voice anywhere.
The polite thing to do would be to acknowledge him and answer his question. She glanced over her shoulder to do just that, but the smile froze on her face and her breath caught in her throat. He stood closer than she’d expected. Close enough that she should have been able to feel his breath on the back of her neck.
Mere inches separated her from the rock-solid wall of his chest. She couldn’t help but remember how warm and safe and protected it had felt to be held in those muscled arms, cradled against that chest.
She took a step back and stumbled awkwardly over her own feet. Sam’s hand shot out to steady her. “See, it is too soon. You should be in bed.” Concern shone from his eyes and etched lines in his face.
“I’m fine.” She eased her arm out of his grasp. “I tripped over my own feet. I don’t know if I was an awkward oaf in my old life, but it looks like I am now.” She grinned. “And yes, I should be out of bed. I’ve been in bed for two weeks. I may not remember much about my old self, but this new self, this person I am now, can’t stand being cooped up for one more minut
e.”
Rebecca chuckled behind her. “That’s not a new self, Sarah. That’s who you’ve always been. A dervish of activity from sunup to sundown, even as a little one.” Rebecca patted her hand on the table. “Come. Both of you. Sit down. Eat.”
“I can’t remember the last time I sat down to a meal that didn’t come out of a hospital vending machine. I’m starving.” Sam beat Sarah to the table and pulled out a chair for her before he sat down.
Rebecca laughed. “Good. I like to feed people with healthy appetites.” She carried a heavy, cast-iron skillet to the table and filled his plate with potatoes and sausage. Scrambled eggs were already in a bowl on the table. She set out a second small plate filled with slices of warm bread and a Mason jar of homemade strawberry jam.
“Yum.” Sam’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, and both women laughed.
Sarah watched every movement he made while pretending not to notice anything at all. She noted how long and lean his fingers were when he lifted a slice of bread. She smiled to herself when she saw the tiniest bead of jam at the corner of his mouth.
A warm flush tinged her cheeks when she realized how happy she was when he was around, and then she grew confused and unhappy with herself for that same reason. Should she be allowing anything, even friendship, to develop with this man? He was an Englischer. She was Amish, or at least that’s what everyone told her she was. She wished she felt Amish, or English, or anything from anywhere—if she could only own the memory.
One thing she did know for sure. She was an assignment to Samuel, and he would be leaving as soon as his assignment was over. Didn’t she have enough chaos in her life without adding unreturned feelings to it?
She stole another glance at him. She couldn’t help but admire his strong, chiseled features, the square chin, the pronounced cheekbones, the angular planes and the deep, dark, intense eyes that seemed to be able to look at a person and see into their soul.
Was she gravitating toward him because, besides Rebecca, he had been the only constant in her life for the past two weeks whom she could rely on in an otherwise frightening, blank world of strangers and fear?
Or was the reason simply a woman being drawn to an attractive, kind man?
Either way she had to learn to dismiss these new feelings in an effort to discover the old ones. She had to concentrate on remembering the past and forget the temptation of daring to think about a future. There was no future for Samuel and her. There never would be.
“Where is Jacob?” Sam smeared jam on a second slice of warm bread. “I’d like to ask him if there is anything close to the house that I might help him with today. Maybe muck the stalls in the barn?”
“Jacob is mending a fence in the back pasture,” Rebecca replied. “He left at first light. I am expecting him back anytime now.”
No sooner had the words had left her lips than the back door opened and Jacob strode into the room. He hung his coat and hat on the hooks by the door, slid out of his boots and padded in his socks to the table.
Rebecca slid a mug of hot coffee in front of his chair before he even sat down.
“Guder mariye, everyone. The skies are clear. The air is sweet. Looks like a good day for working in the fields.” Jacob rubbed his hands together in anticipation and took a slice of bread from the basket.
“What can I do to help?” Sam asked. “I know work is never truly done on a farm, but I am limited in how far I can wander from the house. I was hoping you might have something for me in the barn. I can muck stalls, feed animals. I also saw carpentry equipment.”
“Ya, that was Peter’s work. He built cabinets and furniture. He was working on a new table and chairs to present to Josiah and Anna. They are to be married this month.”
“Aren’t weddings held in November, after the harvest?” Sam asked.
“Ya, but this is a special occasion. Josiah has a gut job opportunity with an Amish family in Ohio. Peter finished the chairs he was making for them, but not the table.” Jacob’s eyes dimmed. “I will have to find time in my schedule to finish it for him.”
“Let me.”
Jacob cocked an eyebrow. “You know woodworking?”
Sam shrugged. “I am better working in the fields, but my father taught me to sand and stain and varnish. I need to be close to the house to protect Sarah, but it doesn’t mean I can’t share in the work.”
Jacob nodded, and a new respect crossed his expression. “That is gut. Danki, Samuel. I will accept your help with the table.”
Sam glanced out the kitchen window. He tensed and rose to his feet. “A buggy passed by the window,” he said in answer to the questioning looks on everyone’s faces.
Pounding on the front door drew their attention.
Jacob rose to answer it, but before he could the door opened like a burst of wind had pushed it, and Benjamin Miller stormed into the house. He strode to the kitchen doorway, his demeanor angry.
“Forgive me, Jacob, for entering without your permission, but the matter is urgent.”
Jacob’s tone of voice was low and calm but stern as he faced his friend. “What could be so urgent, Benjamin, that you could not wait for me to open the door? You have frightened my wife and Sarah.”
Sam remained standing. Sarah thought he looked like a panther poised to strike, his hand subtly hidden within the folds of his jacket. He must be wearing a gun. The thought made shivers of apprehension race up and down her arms. She did not like guns, and she did not want to be reminded that Sam was as comfortable wearing one as he was his pants or boots.
Benjamin removed his hat. “I apologize.” He pointed an accusing finger at Sam. “But I told you that allowing this man into our homes would only bring trouble to us, and now it has.”
“What are you talking about? What trouble?” Jacob asked.
“There is a man in town. He is going business to business asking where he can find Sarah—and the man protecting her.”
NINE
“Kumm, sit.” Jacob gestured to a vacant chair at the table. “Rebecca will pour you a cup of kaffe, and you can tell us what you know.”
Benjamin glared at Sam as he stepped past him. After he took a sip of his coffee, he leaned in toward Jacob as if he was the only person in the room to hear.
“I was at the hardware store when Josiah came in and told me. The whole town is in a dither. No one knows what to do or say.”
“What are folks saying?” Sam tried not to appear annoyed when Benjamin directed the answer to Jacob as if he was the one who had asked.
“We cannot lie. Everyone has simply said that we cannot help him.”
“Did you see this man?” Jacob asked.
“Ya, he came into the hardware store just a few minutes after Josiah. He was of average height and dressed in an Englisch suit and tie. He had bushy, bright red hair and wore wire-framed glasses.”
“Did you hear what he said to the store clerk?” Sam asked. “Did he have an accent? Any distinguishable features like a scar or mole on his face?”
Still ignoring him, Benjamin finished his coffee and then spoke to Jacob. “He pulled out some kind of wallet and flashed the badge inside. He said he was a police detective.”
“But that is a lie.” Jacob glanced between Sam and Sarah, who had paled like the milk in the glass in front of her. “If he truly was a police detective, he would know where Sarah lives, and he would know Detective King.”
“Ya, he is lying. Everyone knows it. He brings trouble to our town.” For the first time since sitting at the table, Benjamin made eye contact with Sam. “He is following you. You should not have come here.”
“Benjamin, please tell us what else the man said.” Rebecca refilled his coffee cup.
“He told the store clerk that the woman he was searching for, Sarah Lapp, had been kidnapped from the
hospital by the man who was claiming to protect her. He asked if anyone could tell him what farm or family she belongs to, or if they’d seen her in town.”
Sam ignored the accusatory glare directed his way. “Could he have been a newspaper reporter? They have been known to use less than truthful tactics to get a story.”
Benjamin shrugged. “The town is full of reporters. They travel in packs like wolves. They carry cameras and climb in and out of big motor vans. They wear their pictures on a badge on their clothes.”
“So what do we do?” Rebecca held fingers to her chin, and concern filled her eyes. “We cannot let this man near our Sarah.”
“I don’t intend to let that happen, Rebecca. Don’t worry,” Sam assured her.
“Maybe I should leave this place.” Sarah joined the conversation for the first time. Her eyes were earnest, her tone anxious. “If I go away and hide someplace else, maybe the man will follow me. Maybe it will keep the kinner safe.”
“The children will not be safe, Sarah, no matter what you do. It is not beneath him to use them to flush you out, even if you did hide someplace else. It is better for you to stay here. It will be easier to protect you.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Jacob asked.
“Yes. Talk to everyone you know. Ask them to keep their silence. Tell them it is not only Sarah’s safety they will be protecting, but also the children’s.”
Sarah stood. Her legs wobbled beneath her, and she held on to the table edge for support. “I cannot let this man hurt the kinner.”
Sam hurried to her side and supported her right arm with his hand. “The only thing I want you to do right now, Sarah Lapp, is to rest. You must get stronger if you expect your memories of that day to return. If they return, that is when you will be the most help.”
“Samuel is right, child.” Rebecca took Sam’s place at Sarah’s side. “You’ve had enough excitement for now. Let me help you back to bed. You haven’t been out of the hospital an entire day yet.”
Sarah looked at each man at the table, and then fixed her gaze on Sam. “What happens now, Samuel?”