by Leslie Gould
“Would you please give me her number?”
“No,” he said. “She wouldn’t answer her phone if you called, even if I did.”
Exasperated, I replied, “I’m on my way to Gary to try to find her.” I didn’t add that Tommy Miller was with me. That would be hard to explain.
“I’ll text you the address of our relatives that she was staying with,” he said. “If she’s not there, I have no idea where she might be.”
“I’ll talk with them,” I said. “And call you back.”
“Hurry,” he said. “I’m worried about her.”
TOMMY MERGED ONTO the interstate, which meant we had about twenty more minutes to Gary. I was about ready to punch in the address, when I decided to check my email first. Nothing from the hospital in Lancaster. Quickly, I zipped over to my banking app. I groaned. None of the charges had been reversed.
“What’s up?” Tommy asked.
“Credit card problems.”
“Stolen?”
I nearly laughed. If only. “It’s a long story.”
He wore a concerned expression on his face. “Does it have to do with your ex?”
I exhaled. “You know?”
“I heard you had a canceled wedding is all.”
“Who from?”
“A guy at work whose wife knows someone who is pregnant—”
“—and who knows my cousin Delores.” I groaned again.
“That’s probably the connection.” He glanced at me. “Sorry.”
“No worries.” I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to talk with anyone about it. “Yeah, there was a canceled wedding. Ryan, the canceler, said he’d pay for everything, but his credit card was stolen and all the vendors charged mine.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Hopefully it will soon be remedied. He was supposed to have called everyone with his new card number.” Desperate to get his attention off of me, I tried to change the subject. “How about you?” I asked. “Any heartbreaks in your past?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “I’ve had my share, starting with Sadie Yoder.”
I smiled. “The girl you ditched me for? For a walk down the lane?”
He laughed. “Sorry about that.” Then seriously, he said, “I can definitely feel your pain. I know this has to be an especially rough time for you.”
I swallowed hard, willing myself not to cry.
“I won’t say it will get better.” He smiled shyly. “I mean, I know it will, but it doesn’t help you to have me say that. Although I hope it will—and soon.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate your kind words.”
“I hope I’m not being too nosy, but any idea what happened?” Tommy asked. “Why Ryan called it off?”
I hesitated for a moment, not sure how transparent I should be with Tommy. I decided it didn’t matter. I’d soon be headed far away from Nappanee, while he would be going back to Las Vegas, if he was innocent in Miriam’s disappearance.
I told him about Amber. “But obviously that wasn’t the only reason. There had to be other issues too.” I was feeling sad about Ryan at the moment, and I didn’t paint things between us in as a harsh a light as I sometimes felt.
“I suppose the situation would be pretty complex,” Tommy said.
“I just wish I could understand what happened. Ryan was the one who got me to return to church, to have hope for the future. I finally felt as if I wasn’t alone anymore.”
“I’m really sorry,” Tommy said.
“Thanks. I’ve heard there are others who’ve gotten dumped right before their wedding. I’ve just never met any of them.”
“Jah, I am sorry that you got dumped. But what I meant was that I’m sorry you’d felt so alone for so long.”
Tears sprung into my eyes. Before I could think twice, I poured out my sorrow about Mom dying and Dad remarrying so soon. Finally, I caught myself. “I’m being insensitive to you, about your father’s death.”
“No, you’re not,” Tommy said. “He had cancer. I had years to prepare myself. I still have my mother. Losing your mom and then your family was a big loss. And now losing Ryan too.”
I nodded as my throat filled with grief. Tommy really did understand.
He slowed behind a van in the left-hand lane. “I thought of you a lot when I heard about your mom’s car accident and death. I know how much you loved her.”
“Denki.” This time I couldn’t stop the tears and began wiping them from under my eyes.
He quickly patted my knee.
I couldn’t speak, but I tried to smile, which didn’t help as it only made me cry harder.
“You have your own trauma,” he said as I rummaged through my purse for a tissue.
“Don’t we all?” I managed to choke out.
Tommy smiled sympathetically and concentrated on passing the van.
I didn’t recognize I was traumatized after Mom’s death at first. It wasn’t like Dad hauled me off to counseling or anything. It wasn’t until I started at UCLA that it became clear to me I had a problem. One didn’t have to be a party animal to find solace in drinking. The girls on my floor seemed to always have alcohol around, especially on weekends, and when it was offered to me, I drank.
It really did numb the pain, and it was soon obvious that I had a surplus of untreated trauma, with no one to talk to about Mom’s accident and death. But then one of my roommates, after I’d sloppy-cried on her shoulder the Sunday night before, walked me to the counseling center the next day.
Therapy helped me see that grief manifested itself in many different ways, including anger, control, and denial. Counseling didn’t cure me, but I believe it saved me from a much rockier path.
After I met Ryan and we started attending church, I still didn’t talk to God a lot, but the music, scripture, and teaching turned my heart toward God. After a while, I found myself praying occasionally again.
I realized I’d been lost in my own thoughts when Tommy said, “I’m happy to listen if you want to talk.”
“Oh,” I said, “I’ve just been thinking about how I’d been depending on Ryan more and more—more than on God—because Ryan was what I wanted. But I’m finally beginning to comprehend that what I needed was an entirely different matter.”
I’d wanted financial security. A family. A beautiful home. But I didn’t feel as if I could be entirely honest with Ryan. I often felt I was hiding a part of myself. The part that grew up rural, that had spent time on an Amish farm.
“What do you need?”
“Honesty,” I answered. “To be honest about my past and honest as I try to figure out my future.”
“Does your future still include you becoming a midwife?” Tommy asked. “Because I remember you talking about it all the time when we were kids. You idealized your mom. And Delores too.”
I smiled at the memories and then shook my head. “I don’t foresee being a midwife in my future, but wanting to be one was part of my past—a part I’ve been hiding as of late. It’s been good for me to revisit all of that. I’ve neglected it.”
Spending time with Tommy made it obvious I’d pushed a lot of my memories and feelings away. He was showing himself to be a caring person.
Unless he had something to do with Miriam’s disappearance.
Then he was the biggest fraud ever, and I was the biggest fool, an even bigger one than I’d been with Ryan.
We’d reached the outskirts of Gary already, and I quickly keyed the address into my maps app. It directed us to the east side of town, which consisted of mostly single-dwelling wood-frame houses. Many had plywood over the windows. Haphazard troughs had been made where people had walked on sidewalks that weren’t shoveled.
When we reached the address, Tommy pulled over. The sage green house on the corner was small, but it appeared well kept. Smoke curled out of the chimney. The sidewalk was shoveled and the driveway cleared.
“Ready?” As I climbed out, a compact car on the side stree
t pulled away from the curb, fishtailing a little.
Tommy led the way up the steps to the wide porch. He knocked on the front door.
We could hear the patter of feet, and then a small woman dressed in a Mennonite dress and Kapp opened the door. Behind her were two blond preschool-aged little girls who clung to her skirt. “Hello,” she said with a Pennsylvania Dutch accent.
“I’m Tommy Miller.” He motioned toward me. “And this is Savannah Mast. We’re looking for a young woman named Miriam. Her brother thought she might be here.”
“You just missed her,” the woman said. “She left a minute ago.”
I turned toward the street. Had she been in the compact car on the side street?
“Do you know where she’s going?” Tommy asked.
“I’m not sure.” The woman motioned to the inside of the house. “Come on in.”
Tommy took off his baseball cap and stepped aside, letting me go in first. The room was sparsely furnished, with just a couch and one chair. A few toys, a dollhouse, and a play buggy with a horse sat on a low table against the wall. The hardwood floor shone as if it had just been polished, and a small wood stove in the corner had a fire burning in it.
The woman motioned toward the couch, and Tommy and I both sat down, while she sat in the chair, the girls still holding on to her.
“I’m Ethel King, Miriam’s aunt. My brother was her father.” She was the aunt Arleta had mentioned, the relative Joshua had referred to.
“Nice to meet you,” Tommy said.
The woman nodded but didn’t smile. “Why are you looking for Miriam?”
I answered, “I was at Arleta’s, helping her birth her baby, the night Miriam disappeared.”
“And I was the driver who dropped Miriam off back at home right before she disappeared,” Tommy added.
Neither explanation gave us credibility to be looking for her, but it was the best we had. “Joshua told me he’s worried about her. He gave us your address.”
She nodded. That seemed to reassure her. “When her father passed last year, I told her that if she ever wanted to leave the Amish, my husband and I would help her. A man, probably in his late twenties, dropped her off on Sunday.”
I glanced at Tommy, wondering what his reaction might be. Could it be Kenny? But Tommy continued to keep his gaze on Ethel.
“I thought she was serious about leaving the Amish—and not just because things are so miserable at home.” Miriam pulled her youngest girl onto her lap while the other one draped around her legs. “But then about ten minutes ago, this same man showed up at the house again. After a short conversation, Miriam told me she was going with him. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“What did the man look like?” Tommy asked.
“Like I said, late twenties. Brown hair and brown eyes. A small tattoo on the side of his neck. It looked like a cactus, maybe, I couldn’t tell exactly.”
By the expression on Tommy’s face, he knew someone with a tattoo of a cactus on the side of his neck. I guessed it was Kenny. “Was the man driving a gray Camry?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t know. He didn’t park in front of the house.”
The car parked on the side street when we arrived was gray. I didn’t notice whether it was a Camry or not. I turned back toward Ethel and asked, “You don’t know where they were going?”
Ethel shook her head. “I assumed back home, but when I asked, she wouldn’t say.”
“Did she have a cell phone with her?”
Ethel nodded. “She didn’t have the right charger, so it was dead. But she has a phone, although she wouldn’t give me her number.” She looked on the verge of tears. “Miriam seems like a lost soul, as if she doesn’t have any idea what she needs for her future.”
I was most concerned about her immediate well-being. Was she safe with Kenny Miller? Was she safe going back home to Arleta and Vernon’s? “Do you think it’s a good idea for her to go back?” I asked. “Vernon might not be very happy with her.”
“Oh, I think Arleta can handle Vernon.”
I wasn’t so sure.
Ethel said, “I have a question for you. I appreciate your concern, but why are you so worried about her? She’s an adult.”
I leaned forward. “She went missing under mysterious circumstances, in the dead of night during a blizzard. And from what you’ve told us, it sounds like she might be running again. If she’s not headed back to Nappanee, do you have any guess where she might be going?”
Ethel wrinkled her nose. “Maybe to Chicago. She said she has a friend there.” Ethel pulled her daughter against her chest. “I hope she’s going home, but if she is, then she needs to be honest with Arleta and Vernon.”
“Honest about what?” Tommy asked.
“Being pregnant.”
Immediately, I feared Kenny was the father. And Tommy might have been too because he asked, “How far along?”
“Six months,” Ethel answered.
I could sense Tommy’s relief as I did the mental math in my head. He and Kenny had been in Nappanee since September—a total of four months. There was no way Kenny could be the father. But he did appear to be helping her.
Ethel dropped her voice, as if she thought maybe her girls wouldn’t hear her, even though they were glued to her. “Miriam says the father is a young man from Newbury Township, from their old district.”
“Maybe she’s going there,” I said.
Ethel shook her head. “I don’t believe her about the father. I think she made that up.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t say it with much conviction. It sounded like an answer to get me to stop asking questions.”
CHAPTER 17
Ten minutes later, Tommy, with his Giants cap back on his head, and I sat in his Jeep. “Yeah, Kenny got a cactus tattoo when we were in Arizona. He was drunk at the time.”
“Do you have a matching one?”
Tommy laughed. “At least not where anyone can see it.”
I smiled. “What should we do now?”
“There’s no reason to go to Chicago without any idea where they might be.” He started the engine. “Why don’t you call Joshua and tell him what Ethel said?” He paused. “But maybe leave out the pregnancy.”
“I agree.” I pulled out my phone. “And then I’m going to call Deputy Rogers.” I glanced at Tommy, looking for a reaction.
“Good idea,” he said.
Maybe Deputy Rogers had his reasons to be suspicious, but the fact that Miriam had been with her aunt and had just left on her own seemed to exonerate Tommy. Unless Deputy Rogers knew something he wasn’t sharing. “At least it sounds like you’re free and clear to go to Nevada now.”
Tommy grinned. “Trying to get rid of me?”
“Actually . . .” I couldn’t come up with a clever comeback, so I decided to be honest. “I’m not. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”
He gave me a sideways glance and a vague smile, but that was all. As he pulled away from the curb, I called Joshua. Just when I thought it was going to go to his voicemail, he answered with such a soft “Hello” that I could barely hear him. “Hold on a sec.” A rustling followed.
Finally, he came back on the line. “Hi, Savannah.”
After I got over my surprise that he called me by my name, I relayed to him that Ethel told us a man, who appeared to be Kenny Miller, had just picked up Miriam. “Ethel said Miriam has her phone, but she didn’t have a charger. Hopefully she’s charging it in the car. Maybe try calling her in a few minutes.”
“She’s coming home?”
“Ethel wasn’t sure where they’re going.” I spoke slowly. “She said Miriam talked about going to Chicago, but hopefully they’re headed home.”
“All right,” he said.
“Will you let me know if you speak to her?” I asked.
Before Joshua answered, Tommy called out, “And ask her to tell Kenny to call me.”
“I’m with Tommy Miller
,” I said. “He wants Kenny to call him. It’s important.”
“All right,” Joshua said. “I’ll call Miriam, ask what her plans are, tell her to tell Kenny to call Tommy, and then call you back.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Denki.”
He hung up without saying good-bye.
I held the phone for a minute in my hand. “What a funny kid.”
“You have no idea how awkward it is to be an Amish adolescent,” Tommy said. “And it’s worse for boys than girls.”
“You weren’t awkward.”
“What?” He started to go through a four-way stop and then slammed on the brakes at the last minute. If he hadn’t, he would have T-boned a taxi.
After I let go of the dashboard, I laughed.
And then so did he. “Look,” he said. “I’m still awkward.”
“No, you’re not. And you weren’t back then either. You were cool.”
“Cool?” He shook his head as he accelerated. “I was anything but.”
“Driving around in that Thunderbird. Walking that cute Amish girl home.” I laughed. “Blowing me off like you’d never seen me before.”
He cringed. “I was hoping you didn’t remember everything.”
“I’m just teasing.” I didn’t expect him to feel badly about it all of these years later.
“No, I was horrible.” Tommy stared straight ahead as he drove toward I-80. “Awkward, yes, in general, but to you—simply horrible. And after you’d been such a good friend to me all of those summers too.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I was a little slow to realize you’d grown up, that you didn’t want to hang out anymore.”
Now he laughed. “But I did want to. I just didn’t feel like I should. I figured I needed to start being an Amish man. I couldn’t have an Englisch best friend anymore.”
Best friend. That was how I’d felt about Tommy, but it was validating to hear him say he felt that way about me too.
“Maybe I shouldn’t say this.” Tommy stared straight ahead.
I waited and then finally asked, “Say what?”
“Funny that this is hard, even though it’s been all these years, even though we’re all grown up,” he said, “but the summers you were in Indiana were my favorites.”