Amish Refuge

“True, but his son, Walt, has been checking in on Ezra and left a cell for him to use in case he needed help.”

“Did he need help last night?” Abram asked.

“Not help, but he was concerned.” Samuel raised his brow. “What about you, Abram? Did you see cars racing down the mountain?”

“Something has happened?”

“One of the cops in the next county found an abandoned car that ran off the road and nearly landed in the river. I’m headed there now. My deputies will join me when they finish talking to Jacobs.”

“The mountain road can be slick and dangerous, yet you question me?”

“I thought you might have seen something. The car was found just over the county line and not far from your property.”

How could Abram forget the man last night who was driving too fast?

“Besides, I had time to kill,” the sheriff confessed. “Bruce Tucker, the chief of the Petersville Police Department, guards his turf like a bulldog. He’ll insist his own officers search the scene before he invites me or any of my deputies on site.”

Abram had heard talk about Tucker being less than cordial. “Chief Tucker does not welcome your help?”

“He does not want anyone’s help. Some folks call him a bensel. Others say he is schmaert like a hund.”

“A silly child or smart like a dog. You have not forgotten the language of your childhood, Samuel.”

“I have not forgotten anything, Abram.” Samuel frowned. “But you didn’t answer my question. Did you see a car on the road last night?”

“Yah. The driver was going fast. I flagged him down and warned him about the bridge.”

“Was anyone else in the car?”

“I saw only one person.”

“Can you describe the driver?”

“The glare of headlights was in my eyes. He leaned out the window, but I could not see his features. He turned the car around and took the fork in the road, heading west.”

“What about the make of car and the license plate?” Samuel pressed.

“A black sedan. I did not think it was important to notice the license plate.”

“Did you check the time?”

“Soon after midnight.”

“Yet you were awake and saw his lights in time to warn him?” Samuel asked.

“Sleep is sometimes not my friend, as you must know.”

His uncle glanced at the house. “What about Emma? Did she see anything?”

“Emma does not have trouble sleeping.”

“Fortunate for her.” The sheriff slapped Abram’s shoulder in farewell before he returned to his car.

As he pulled onto the roadway, Abram climbed the steps of his porch and sighed deeply. He had to find out more about the woman upstairs.

He wanted to know who was after her and why.

* * *

Miriam stared at the tray of food Emma had brought to the guest bedroom. She had tried to eat, but her stomach was queasy and her mind kept flashing back to the smattering of details she could remember about the traffic stop.

In addition to the food, Emma had also provided a clean change of clothes—an Amish dress that she’d pulled from the blanket chest sitting in the corner of the room, along with an apron. Miriam considered herself a jeans-and-sweater type of gal, but the dress fit and she appreciated having something other than a flannel nightgown to wear.

Emma, probably mid-to-late twenties, was a foot shorter than Miriam with a pretty complexion and a sweet smile. She also exuded an abundance of patience as she showed Miriam how to straight-pin the dress at the bodice and waist. Working together, they had subdued Miriam’s somewhat unruly hair and twisted it into a bun.

Spying a number of skeins of yarn along with crochet hooks and knitting needles in the blanket chest and, knowing she needed some outlet for the nervous energy that swelled within her, Miriam had asked if she could use the yarn to make a scarf for her newfound friend.

Emma seemed to appreciate the offer and her eyes sparkled as she lumbered to the door. Miriam couldn’t help but notice the deformed angle of her left foot that caused her to limp.

The Amish woman’s handicap was obvious. Miriam clasped her hands to her heart, wondering about her own wounds, growing up within a dysfunctional family.

Maybe here in the quiet of this Amish home, she would quell the turmoil that had been the norm in her life for far too long. Then she thought of all that had happened and realized she was asking too much. Some scars cut too deep.

Sighing, she wrapped her arms around her waist and jerked when her finger snagged against the sharp tip of one of the straight pins. A bead of blood surfaced almost instantly. She glanced around the room, looking for a box of tissues. Seeing none, she neared the porcelain pitcher and washbowl on the oak dresser. After pouring water over her finger, she dried her hands on the thick towel and repositioned the pin to prevent another prick.

Footsteps sounded, coming up the stairs. Her heart pounded, expecting Abram to open the door. Confusion had rocked her the last time he had done so. As much as she appreciated him giving her shelter for the night, she didn’t want to face his penetrating eyes and stern gaze.

Miriam had seen the sheriff’s car in the drive. Had Abram mentioned the woman hiding in his house?

The steps drew nearer. A knock at the door. “May I enter?”

His voice was deep, stilted. Did she detect an edge of impatience?

She wrung her hands to calm the trembling that came unbidden. What was wrong with her? She had done nothing wrong.

Again flashes of memories washed over her. Hot tears burned her eyes. She wiped at her cheeks, needing to be clear-headed and alert when she faced this giant of a man. No doubt he would question who she was and why she had stumbled into his life.

Another knock.

She stepped to the door and ever so slowly pulled it open. He stood on the other side, too close. Much too close.

Her breath hitched. She took a step back, needing to distance herself from his bulk and the smell of him that filled her nostrils with a mix of fresh soap and mountain air.

His hair, now neatly brushed back from his forehead, fell to where his beard hugged his square jaw, framing his face and accentuating the crystal blue of his eyes.

He dropped his gaze, taking in the simple dress she wore. Pain swept his face. He swallowed hard. “I will be downstairs. We need to talk.” Without further explanation, he closed the door, his footsteps heavy as he descended the stairs.

She didn’t want to talk to him. Not now. Not when so much had happened. If only she could find her cell phone. She needed to call Hannah. Her older sister had always known what she wanted, and it hadn’t been to remain in Tennessee with a mother who showed the classic signs of early onset Alzheimer’s.

Miriam needed help and someone to lean on for support.

Abram’s broad shoulders came to mind.

She shook her head. She couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust any man, not even the Amish man who had saved her life.

THREE

Standing at the kitchen counter, Abram gulped down the last swig of coffee and wondered again about what had brought the mysterious woman to his door.

Should he have told Samuel? Her fear the night before had made Abram hesitant about revealing her presence. Thankfully his uncle had not asked him point-blank about the woman. Abram would not lie, but he need not divulge information that could terrorize her even more.

He placed the mug in the sink and rubbed his temple to still the pressure that had built up over the long hours he had tried to sleep. Seeing the woman wearing Rebecca’s clothing had been a new stab to his heart. Of course, Emma had not realized the effect it would have on him.

The woman needed clothes to wear while her own things were being washed. His sister was shorter than their visitor, so offering Rebecca’s dress had been a practical solution, except for what it had done to his equilibrium.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

He startled at the sound of the woman’s voice and turned to face his guest. “I did not hear you come down the stairs.”

His heart lurched again, seeing her in Rebecca’s dress. He gripped the kitchen counter to steady himself and to make certain he was in the present and not dreaming of his wife yet with another face.

In an attempt to slow his racing heart, he searched for common ground. “The coffee is hot.”

She shook her head. A strand of hair fell over her pale cheek. “I’m full from breakfast.”

“Then you had enough to eat?”

“More than enough. I’m grateful for your hospitality.”

“I do not know your name.”

“Miriam,” she quickly replied.

He waited, expecting more. Then, when she failed to respond, he raised his brow. “Should you not have a family name, as well?”

“Of course.” Her face flushed. “It’s Miller.”

“Your father’s name?”

“Actually, it was my mother’s surname.” She paused before adding, “My mother lived in Willkommen as a child. I was headed there to find her sister, but I got lost on the mountain roads. Is the town far?”

“Ten miles at most.”

She took a step closer, her gaze expectant. “Then you might know Annie Miller.”

“I know Eli Miller. His wife’s name is Hattie. Perhaps your aunt has married?”

“I... I...” She faltered. “I don’t know. My mother had only recently mentioned that she had a sister.”

“You should ask more from your mother.”

She wrung her hands. “I could call my sister if I had my phone.”

“Could your phone have dropped from your pocket?” he offered, hoping to soothe her unease.

“Maybe. I’m not sure. What about a computer? I mentioned it upstairs, but you didn’t answer me. Don’t some Amish people use computers for business?”

“I do not have electricity to run a computer, nor a computer. That is not the way I live.”

She held up her hand. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I did not take your comment as an offense.”

Her oval face was tight with worry. She rubbed her arms.

“You are cold?” he asked, concerned for her well-being.

“I’m fine, except I need my phone.”

“There are phones in Willkommen. You can call from there.”

She raised her hand to her forehand and carefully played her fingertips over the blackened bruise. “The problem is that I can’t remember my sister’s number. We haven’t talked in...”

She shook her head and bit her lip as if she couldn’t finish the thought that played heavy on her heart. “My sister’s number is programmed in the contacts on my cell, that’s why I need to find my phone.”

“Perhaps you cannot remember her number because you are tired. You did not sleep well?”

She dropped her hand and bristled ever so slightly. “My problem is not lack of sleep.”

He had pushed too far. Abram pointed to her forehead. “Someone hit you?”

“I fell,” she corrected. “Your sister was kind enough to clean the wound last night.”

A man had chased after her. A man who, according to her own words, wanted to kill her. A husband perhaps. Abram glanced at her left hand where he had not seen a ring as the Englisch were accustomed to wear. He did, however, see the bruise marks around her wrists.

Nervously she wiped her hands along the fabric of her dress. “Thank you for the clothing. It belongs to someone in your family? Your wife? She...” A furtive glance. “She is away?”

“My sister did not tell you?”

Innocent eyes. How could someone seemingly so open with her gaze be chased by a crazed man? He hesitated, weighing the thoughts that tangled through his mind.

“Tell me what, Abram?”

His chest tightened at the inflection of her voice when she said his given name.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly added.

Had she noticed his surprise?

“Is it impolite to use your first name?” she asked. “I don’t know Amish customs nor your last name.”

“Zook. My name is Abram Zook. My wife, Rebecca, and my unborn child died three years ago.”

Miriam’s face clouded as if feeling his pain. “I’m sorry, Mr. Zook, and I apologize for any impropriety on my part.” She touched the bodice of the dress Rebecca had so carefully stitched.

The front panel had challenged his wife when the fabric refused to lay straight. The memory of her bright smile when she had mastered the problem brought heaviness to his heart. The dress had been the last she had made before learning she was with child.

He turned, unable to face the woman in his wife’s clothing. Instead he stared through the kitchen window. His gaze took in the hillside and the winding road that had brought the Englisch woman to his door.

“I’ve upset you after you were nice enough to take me in.” She sighed. “As soon as I have my phone, I’ll be on my way.”

Slowly he turned to face her, needing to gauge her reaction to his next statement. “The sheriff said a car ran off the road, not far from here, but in the next county.”

Fear clouded her eyes. She rubbed her neck and glanced down. “Did...did you tell the sheriff about me?”

“He did not ask if I had visitors so I did not tell him.”

She glanced up, her gaze a swirl of unrest. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I did not think you had.” He hesitated a long moment before adding, “Yet a man followed you last night. He is your husband?”

Shock—no, horror—washed over her pale face. “I would never have anything to do with an animal like him.”

“Yet he was looking for you.”

She raised her chin. “I ask that you trust me. I’m innocent of any wrongdoing, but the man is evil. I don’t want you or your sister to get involved. That’s why I have to leave. Now. Can you take me to Willkommen? From there, I can catch a bus to Atlanta.”

“I will take you to Willkommen, but not today.” Not while law enforcement in two counties was investigating an abandoned car. For her own safety, the woman needed to stay put.

“But I have to contact my older sister in Atlanta.”

He nodded. “You can do so when we go to town tomorrow.”

She took a step back. Frustration clouded her gaze. “What will I do until then?”

The back door opened and Emma stepped inside, carrying a basket of apples. She glanced questioningly at Miriam and then at her brother.

He lifted his hat off the wall peg and stepped toward the open door. “Our guest wishes to help you.”

His sister’s face darkened. “Where are you going, Abram?”

“The fence needs repair. Lock the door after I am gone.”

Emma caught his arm. “You are worried that the sheriff will return?”

“I am not worried.” He stepped onto the porch.

“You did not eat this morning, Abram,” his sister called after him. “You will be hungry.”

“I will survive.”

“Yah. You are a strong man.”

Before the door closed he heard Emma’s final comment. “Perhaps too strong.”

His sister knew his weakness almost as well as he knew it himself.

“Gott,” he mumbled, looking up at the sky and shaking his head with regret. “Forgive me for my prideful heart.”

* * *

“Wait!” Miriam hurried past a startled Emma and grabbed a black cape off the hook by the door. Throwing it around her shoulders, she raced from the house.

“Abram,” she called.

Surprise registered on his square face as he turned. Or was it impatience? With his pensive gaze and stoic expression, the man was hard to read.

“I need your help,” she said, running toward him.

He hesitated a moment, probably thinking of the fence that demanded his attention.

“You’re right about my phone.” Miriam stopped short of where he stood. “It must have fallen from my pocket.”

She looked at the winding mountain road in the distance and the grassy pasture that led toward a thick wood. “But, I’m confused. Do you know the direction I would have walked last night? I remember coming through the woods, then a clearing.”

“The sheriff mentioned a car bogged in mud at the river’s edge.” Abram pointed to the stand of trees at the far side of the pasture. “The county line is just beyond those pines that mark the end of my property. The river curves close to the road there. I believe it is where you left your car.”

Overwhelmed by the vast area she would have to cover, Miriam pulled in a deep breath and nodded with resolve. “I’ll start by looking around the house first.”

“You have heard the saying, ‘a needle in a haystack’?”

The seriousness of his tone made her smile. “Does that mean I should give up before I start?”

His full lips twitched and a spark of levity brightened his gaze. “We will search together. I will help you, Miriam.”

She liked the way he said her name as well as his offer of assistance. Returning his almost smile with one of her own, she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. “Thank you, Abram.”

“We will begin here.” He pointed to the stepping stones upon which they stood. “And we will take the path through the pasture. Perhaps you followed it last night.”

Without further delay he dropped his gaze and walked slowly toward the drive. Miriam followed close behind him, searching the winter grass cut short enough that a cell phone would be visible.

On the far side of the dirt drive she paused and breathed in the serenity of the setting, then smiled as a big dog with long, golden hair ambled out of the barn. She patted her hand against her thigh, calling him closer. “What’s the pup’s name?”

Abram stopped to watch the dog sidle next to Miriam. “His name is Bear.”

She rubbed behind the dog’s ear. “You’re big as a bear, but sweet.” She cooed to the dog before looking up at Abram. “He’s part golden retriever?”

“With a mix of Lab.”

Again she lowered her gaze to the dog. “How come I haven’t seen you before this?” Bear wagged his tail and nuzzled closer as if enjoying the attention.

“He sleeps in the barn. You did not see him last night because I had closed the doors to keep the horses warm.”

“I’m glad I got to meet you today, Bear.” With a final pat to the dog’s head, Miriam straightened and took in the pristine acreage around Abram’s house. In the distance, a number of horses grazed on the hillside. “The animals are yours?”

“Yah. The others are in the barn.” A look of pride and accomplishment wrapped around his handsome face. “Horses are necessary for the Amish way of life. They provide transportation. They pull our plows and haul produce and products to market.”

“They’re beautiful, but a car and tractor would make your life easier.”

“Easier does not mean better.” He returned to his search, leaving her to ponder his statement.

So many people yearned for modern conveniences to enhance their quality of life. But did possessions bring contentment?

Her mother had traveled the country, looking for happiness. Instead she had found unrest and confusion.

In her youth Miriam had longed for a father to love her and the security of a stable home. She had found neither.

Like the elusive memories of her past, the wind tugged at the hem of her dress and wrapped the fabric around her legs. For a fleeting moment she felt a new appreciation for the Amish way and almost a kinship with this man who embraced the simple life.

Hurrying to catch up to Abram, she asked, “What can you tell me about the sheriff? He’s from Willkommen?”

“Originally he came from Tennessee. His name is Samuel Kurtz. He is my mother’s brother.”

Not what she had expected to hear. “The sheriff is your uncle?”

Abram studied the surprise she was hard-pressed to control. “Does that seem strange to you?” he asked.

“A bit.” Actually it surprised her a lot. “How can an Amish man work in law enforcement?”

“Before baptism, young men and women decide how they will live their lives, whether they will remain in the community or move elsewhere. My uncle did not wish to remain Amish. Our family is from Ethridge, Tennessee. Samuel came to Georgia to make a new life for himself. He is respected here. A year ago, he was elected sheriff.”

“You moved here to be near your uncle?”

“The land brought me. The price was good. I wanted to make a new home for myself and my wife.”

“Did you ever consider leaving the Amish way, like your uncle?”

“Once, but I was young and foolish. Thankfully, I changed my mind and realized what I would be leaving.” His eyes softened. “The Amish walk a narrow path, Miriam, but we know where it leads. My uncle wanted something else for his life.”

“And he’s happy?” she quizzed.

“You will have to ask him.” Abram motioned her toward a path that cut across the pasture. “This is the way you walked last night.”

She glanced back at the house. “How can you be so certain?”

“Your footprint is there in the dirt.”

Glancing at where he pointed, she recognized the faint outline of her shoe.

“Which means we don’t have to search the entire pasture to find my cell.” Feeling a swell of relief, Miriam hurried forward, hoping her phone would be as easy to find as her footprint.

Abram led the way, seemingly intent on the quest, until the sound of a motor vehicle turned his gaze to the road.

“A car is coming,” he warned. “You must go back to the house.”

She wasn’t ready to give up the search. “I haven’t found my cell.”

He took her arm, his grasp firm, and turned her around. “Hurry. Someone comes.”

The intensity of his tone drove home the danger of being seen. Fear overcame her and she ran toward the house. Was she running for protection or running into a trap?

* * *

Everything inside Abram screamed that he had to protect Miriam. From what or from whom, he was not sure.

He ran to the road and stepped onto the pavement just as the Willkommen sheriff’s car rounded the bend. Abram glanced back at the pasture. Miriam was still running, the black cape billowing out behind her.

His heart thumped a warning for her and one for himself, as well. His actions since Miriam had stumbled onto his porch were so outside the norm that it seemed as if someone else had taken control of his body and his mind.

Seeing his uncle at the wheel of the squad car, Abram raised his hand in greeting. Samuel slowed the vehicle to a stop and rolled down the window. Abram leaned into the car.

His uncle’s face was drawn, his eyes filled with sadness.

“Go home, Abram, and lock your doors.” Samuel flicked his gaze to the fleeing figure in the distance. “Keep Emma inside.”

Thankfully, his uncle had not questioned Miriam’s even gait and, instead, had mistaken the Englischer for his sister.

Knowing something serious was underfoot, Abram pressed for more information. “What is it you are trying to tell me, Samuel?”

“I mentioned that the Petersville police found a car at the river’s edge. When I got there, they were searching the back seat and taking prints. They found a woman’s purse.”

“The handbag belongs to the person who owns the car?”

The sheriff nodded but the pull of his jaw told Abram more than a purse was at stake.

“The trunk of the car was locked. They were preparing to break it open when I left.”

A nerve twitched in Abram’s jaw. A roar filled his ears. He strained to hear the sheriff’s words.

“The car is registered to a woman, age twenty-four. The police are trying to track her down.”

Emma’s warning about Miriam floated again through Abram’s mind. She will bring trouble to this house.

What had become of the peace and surety of his life? Overnight he had gone from calm to chaos.

“The woman who owns the car is from a small town outside Knoxville,” Samuel continued. “One of Chief Tucker’s officers contacted the authorities there. Seems she lived with her mother and younger sister. All three women have been missing for a number of days. No one knows where they went. The daughter told the neighbors her mother had Alzheimer’s, yet the neighbors claimed the mother seemed normal.”