Amish Hideout

by Maggie K. Black

  He pulled into the center of town, near where the outdoor community phone boxes were or, at least, had been. A park bench sat where the community phone booth once had. But before he could worry about that a storefront caught his eye: Miriam’s Second Hand Thrift Store. Handwritten signs in the window, in both English and Pennsylvania Dutch, told him they only took cash, all proceeds went to charity and that free clothes and food were available to those in need. More importantly, a large sign on the door mentioned there were community phones for free use within.

  He pulled to a stop out front. Through the window he could see a striking woman in her late thirties in an Amish prayer kapp, dress and apron behind the counter. Beside her was a fresh-faced young man he guessed was probably no more than eighteen. He paused. Women running businesses in the Amish community were rare. At least in his experience. Was Miriam a young widow who’d started her own business after her husband’s death? Was it a family-run business?

  “I’m going to go in there and use the phone,” he said.

  “Can I come, too?” she asked.

  He paused. His eyes scanned the street. Yes, she’d probably be safer in the store than she would be sitting out in the truck. “Sure, but hide your hair under the hat and stay close.”

  He walked around to her side of the truck, opened the door and reached for her hand. She took it, hopped out of the truck and gave him a weak but honest smile. They started across the frozen ground toward the thrift store and it wasn’t until they pushed through the door that he realized he was still holding her hand.

  The store was brightly lit and larger than he’d expected from the outside, with neatly arranged racks of Englisch clothes, displays with beautiful quilts and blankets, beautiful displays of secondhand furniture, and tables selling Amish preserves, jams, jellies and breads. A large display on one wall, with a world map covered in pins, outlined the charitable work in both the United States and overseas that proceeds went to funding. A sign above it in English and Pennsylvania Dutch read Be a Light in the World. His heart warmed.

  Celeste read a large sign surrounded by smiling daisies and sitting on the front counter: Questions about Amish life? Please Ask. She pointed to it. “I guess that’s one way to deal with ignorant people like me.”

  “I never said you were ignorant.” And never would.

  “Maybe not, but I know I have a lot to learn.”

  A light shone in Celeste’s eyes as she scanned the store, full of curiosity and inquisitiveness, and it almost reminded him of the spark he’d seen in her eyes when she’d talked about the data.

  “Can I help you?” the young Amish man called.

  He stepped out from around the corner and crossed the floor toward them. The teenager’s voice was polite, but his blue eyes were guarded in a way that made Jonathan remember how he and his brother had been harassed by tourists when they were younger. His name tag read Mark. A second slightly larger badge read Feel Free to Ask Me about Amish life, and Jonathan felt the odd impulse to clap Mark on the shoulder and tell him in Pennsylvanian Dutch that he knew firsthand that took courage.

  Instead, all Jonathan said was, “We’re looking for a phone.”

  Mark pointed to two stalls near the back, each with a small chair. “This way.”

  “Danke.” Jonathan nodded and Mark withdrew.

  Jonathan scanned the space between the phones and the front door. The lines of sight were clear. There was only a smattering of other customers in the store. He’d be able to get from the phone to anywhere on the floor in about two seconds flat. Besides, he really didn’t want her listening in on his next conversation with Chief Deputy Hunter. Karl’s warning that he and Stacy had been told to be ready for a potential assignment transfer irked him at the back of his mind. There’d been multiple attempts on Celeste’s life. Fisher and Gina had definitely seen his face. A transfer was the logical next step.

  But somehow I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.

  He glanced at Celeste. “I’m going to need a moment of privacy. Are you going to be okay if I leave you? Don’t go out of the store. Stay within eyesight of the phone booth. Browse and if you find any clothes you want or things you’ll need, feel free to fill a basket or two. I think I even saw some luggage and toiletries, and I’m sure you’d appreciate getting some new stuff.”

  Not to mention he’d like to give this business a large donation when he left.

  His hand slipped from hers, but she squeezed his fingertips tightly before they could fully let go. “Thank you.”

  He pulled away and then watched as she walked over to the woman with auburn hair behind the counter. A wide and welcoming smile filled her face as she came around the counter to greet Celeste, and Mark stepped behind the till to take her place. Sure enough, the woman’s name tag read Miriam.

  He left Celeste in animated conversation with the other woman, went into the phone booth and dialed his boss’s number. She answered immediately.

  “This line isn’t secure.” Had the last line been?

  “Understood.”

  He briefed her quickly, filling her in on how they’d destroyed their electronics because Celeste had been concerned they could be hacked. It was odd, as he said it, how he’d trusted her implicitly, like she wasn’t the person she was protecting but a partner or a member of the team.

  He watched as she and Miriam were joined by a younger Amish woman he guessed was Mark’s sister and a year or two older. She led Celeste through the store, their heads bent together like old friends. He couldn’t look away from the smile that brushed Celeste’s lips.

  She’s extraordinary, God. She’s like nobody else I’ve ever met. She’s this exquisite combination of beauty, brains and heart that just tumbled into my life, for a short period of time, and knowing me I should be irritated or annoyed at knowing it can’t last. But instead I’m just too amazed that she exists at all and happy that I ever got to meet her. So please, I’m asking You, watch over her, protect her, guide her, keep her safe and make all her dreams come true.

  “Under the circumstances we think the best course of action is a transfer of marshals,” Hunter said. “I’d like you to head to south. P. will meet you and take over your current assignment. You’ll be temporarily assigned to work with A. for the time being.”

  In other words, he was to head to the southern Pennsylvania safe house, he’d be reassigned to work with Karl Adams and Celeste would be transferred into Stacy Preston’s care.

  He gritted his teeth. He wasn’t surprised. He’d seen this coming. The only thing that mattered was Celeste’s safety. Yet, somehow, the words still landed like a little flurry of punches knocking the air from his lungs.

  “Understood.” He knew the place. They’d be there in half an hour. Then Celeste would disappear from his life, he’d be on to a new assignment and he’d never even know for certain where she’d gone or how to ever contact her again.

  He ended the call, but instead of crossing the floor to find Celeste, he found his footsteps taking him to a secluded part at the back of the store that he guessed was the processing center for donated goods. Twin boys, with auburn curls like Miriam’s were playing on a carpet with a pile of colored blocks. He guessed they were about four or five.

  A stack of Bibles and prayer books, in English and Pennsylvania Dutch, sat on a wide wooden shelf next to a sign reading Free! Take One! Something inside him itched to reach for one. Instead, he leaned his back against the wall and pressed his hands over his eyes.

  I feel so lost. I don’t even know why I keep crying out to You when I’m sure You’ve given up on listening to me. But something about Celeste keeps pushing me here, to this point. So, I’ll ask, what was the point of all this, Gott? Celeste is so certain that You have a purpose for people’s lives? But what could the purpose possibly be to bring her into my life only to disappear again?

  He took a deep breath and wipe
d his eyes. He’d barely taken a step when he felt a hand, heavy and strong, land on his shoulder. Somehow he knew who it belonged to even before he turned to face to see the cinnamon-brown beard and dark piercing eyes awash with confusion, sorrow and anger.

  Amos.

  “Pa!” the boys cried, leaping to their feet and running toward Jonathan’s older brother.

  “Bruder.” Amos shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

  * * *

  “It’s simply beautiful,” Celeste murmured, letting her fingers brush over the intricate quilt patterns. The stitches were so neat, even and precise. It was hard to believe they’d been done by the young woman standing beside her.

  “Do you sew?” Rosie asked. She had said she was eighteen, Mark’s older sister and Miriam’s daughter. A strawberry blond wisp of hair slipped out from under her white cap.

  “No,” Celeste said. “I always wanted to learn, but I never had the opportunity. I did teach myself to knit off an internet tutorial once. I made myself a sweater.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t know what the internet is.”

  Rosie laughed. It was a soft, kind and inclusive laugh that seemed to pull Celeste in instead of making her feel like she was getting mocked. “Yes, I know what the internet is. We just don’t use it. When Mamm doesn’t need me in the store, I teach school.”

  “You’re a teacher?” Celeste felt her eyebrows rise.

  “I am,” Rosie said. “My mother was a teacher before she married my pa. When he died, she moved here with my bruder and I, and started this store. Then she found love again and now the family is larger.”

  There was a twinkle in her eye that told Celeste there was a story there. She glanced at Miriam, who now crouched down, arms wide, to welcome two small boys charging through from the back of the store. She couldn’t believe the courage of a woman who had started her own charity, helping others, as a widow in a new community, with two small children. “God always has a plan.”

  “Yah!” A wider smile burst across Rosie’s face. “Gott is always gut!”

  “I believe that, too,” Celeste said softly. Or at least she always had. Unexpected tears rushed to her eyes and she wasn’t quite sure why. She blinked them back. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know much about Amish life, but I really enjoy your patience in answering my questions. I feel like I’ve asked so many so far.”

  “It’s okay,” Rosie called. “As Grossdaadi says, the purpose of a light is to shine.”

  Grossdaadi. Would that be grandfather, Celeste guessed? She’d been able to piece together the little bits of Pennsylvania Dutch that Rosie slipped into conversation, like yah for yes, Gott for God, mamm for mother and gut for good.

  “I was wondering how you sew your dresses,” Celeste admitted. “The folds are so neat and precise, but I don’t see any zippers or buttons.”

  “We use pins,” Rosie said. “Would you like me to show you?”

  “Please.”

  A shadow moved past the door. She looked up. A man was standing outside by the truck. He was heavyset, with broad shoulders, tinted glasses and an unkempt shaggy beard.

  And my eyes are telling me it’s Dexter Thomes, even though my brain is telling me that it can’t be.

  He was here. Somehow, he’d found her. But how? They’d gotten rid of the cell phone and the tablet. They’d changed trucks. But here he was, scanning the streets of the small town like he was looking for something, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt he was looking for her. Through the gap in his open jacket she could see the handgun concealed just inside his jacket.

  “Excuse me,” she said. She turned and started through the store toward the bank of phones. Her heart stopped. The phone sat there in the cradle and she couldn’t see Jonathan anywhere. Her heart pounded hard in her chest.

  Help me, Lord. Where is he? Where has he gone?

  She glanced back to the street. The doppelgänger Dexter was looking in the window. She quickly shielded her face and turned away.

  “Everything all right?” Rosie asked.

  Celeste’s head shook. “No, it’s not. I came in here with someone. A man. And now I can’t see him anywhere.”

  She scanned the store. Panic, swift and sudden, rose upside her chest like a wave. Where was he? He wouldn’t just have disappeared or left the store without telling her.

  Help me, Lord! I don’t know what happened to Jonathan!

  The front door jangled. She looked up and her heart stopped as Doppel-Dex walked through the door. She dropped to the floor, behind the rack of dresses, and hid, peering through the fabric at the same hulking form she’d seen back in the farmhouse kitchen. Whoever he was, he looked enough like Dexter Thomes to fool the average person. Especially if they’d only seen him through a video screen.

  “I’m looking for this woman!” He slapped a cell phone down on the desk in front of Mark and Miriam with the screen up. “Her name is Celeste Alexander, and I’m offering a lot of money for anyone who tells me where she is. You people understand money? You tell me if you see her. I will give you money.”

  Miriam’s eyes dropped to the picture on the screen. Her lips moved in what Celeste guessed was silent prayer. But Mark’s young eyes seemed to cut straight across the room in her direction as he called out something in Pennsylvania Dutch that she didn’t understand. Help me, Lord! A hand brushed her sleeve. She clamped her hand over her lips to keep from screaming. Then she felt the rustle of fabric and realized Rosie had dropped down and crept over beside her. The younger woman’s eyes met hers, wide and filled with a fear that mirrored her own. “Are you in trouble? Do you need help?”

  Celeste nodded. “Yes. Please hide me.”

  NINE

  Jonathan stood in the back of the shop and just listened as Amos told him how much his absence had hurt him and their pa, and how his father’s health had declined in his absence. How Amos’s heart had been swallowed up in anger for a long time until a beautiful widow named Miriam, who was a couple of years older than he was, had moved to town with her two young children. She had challenged him to open up his heart to God and the world again. What was there to say? He was guilty of everything Amos was accusing him of. And his brother wasn’t even yelling. Instead, his older brother’s voice was every bit as level and calm as their mamm’s used to be. There was a softness to his brother’s eyes, too, and a slight graying of his hair at the temples. He was a father now, a husband, and he’d taken care of everything on his own after Jonathan had left.

  How will he ever forgive me?

  “Talk to me, bruder,” Amos said, his arms crossed. “You disappear for years and then I see you standing here in my family shop dressed like an Englischer?”

  Where did he start? There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to ask. He wanted to tell Amos he wasn’t sorry he’d become a marshal, but he was incredibly sorry for how he’d left, and he wished there’d been a way he could go back in time and do it all better. He wanted to ask the names of his sons and what it was like to become a father. He wanted to explain just how strongly he’d felt called to protect others and how deeply it had hurt when he felt Amos had rejected him.

  But all the words fell silent on his lips as he stood face-to-face with the brother he’d fought with, lost, missed and regretted hurting.

  “I was wrong,” Jonathan said. “Forgive me.”

  Before Amos could respond, voices rose behind them. Up to this point he’d been able to tune out the sounds of conversation coming from the store behind him. But now someone was yelling, his voice bellowing and echoing as swear words poured from his lips. Amos’s head turned sharply at the sound of raised voices in the store. Jonathan followed his gaze. A large bearded man with long shaggy hair and tinted glasses was standing at the front desk, pointing his finger at Miriam and Mark. And as Jonathan watched, all the doubt he’d been feeling disappeared fro
m his mind in an instant. While his brain knew this man must be imitation, he looked exactly like Dexter Thomes. Celeste had been right.

  Celeste!

  Desperately he scanned the store for her. Where was she? Where had she gone? Help me find her, Lord! He’d lost sight of her for only moments and now she was gone. Amos turned to go, but Jonathan clasped a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You deserve an explanation and my time. But it has to wait. I am a US marshal with witness protection. I am here guarding a woman whose life is in danger. That man wants to hurt her. We came in here together, and she is now missing.”

  The hostility faded in an instant from Amos’s face. No matter how he felt about Jonathan and no matter how deep the rift they needed to mend, he understood.

  “Where was she?” Amos asked.

  Relief filled Jonathan’s core. Amos was a better brother than he deserved right now.

  “She was there,” he pointed, “talking to the young Amish woman.”

  “Miriam’s daughter, Rosie.” Worry floated deep in Amos’s eyes. Then he glanced at Jonathan. “This man is looking for you, too, yes? Stay here.”

  Amos strode across the store floor, his shoulders back and his head held high, radiating the strength and confidence that Jonathan as a child had both admired and been intimidated by. Jonathan watched as he exchanged a few brief words with Doppel-Dex, then the man stormed outside. Amos locked the front door behind him and switched the sign in the window to Closed. Mark moved immediately to shut the blinds. As the young man did so, Amos waved Jonathan to join them. Jonathan glanced out the front window through the gap in the closing blinds. Doppel-Dex was standing on the sidewalk outside the store confronting people with Celeste’s picture.