Plain Protector

“I promised Miss Ellinor I’d get that cut on your head looked after. I’m not a man who goes back on a promise.”

Sarah sighed heavily. She wasn’t up for all this chivalrous stuff. She had been conned by the biggest con man himself, and she didn’t trust herself when it came to reading people’s—no, scratch that—men’s true intentions.

Act tougher than you are. Don’t let him take control.

Sarah shifted in her seat and squared her shoulders. “Truth be told, I don’t have any insurance, and as you might have guessed, living in Apple Creek, working as a social worker, I’m not in a position to be forking out money for unnecessary medical expenses. As it is, I’ll have a tough time paying my rent this month.” She figured God would forgive her this little lie. She did have medical insurance, but she didn’t dare use it. Just one more way for her former boyfriend to track her down. Everything she had Googled about vanishing had said to wipe her digital blueprint clean.

In today’s modern world, that was tougher than ever.

Checking into a hospital with all the paperwork and computer records would likely raise a red flag if her former boyfriend was still looking for her. If. Inwardly she rolled her eyes. Of course he was still looking for her. Jimmy Braeden didn’t give up a fight easily.

Sarah turned her head slowly, keenly aware of the man studying her in the confined space of his patrol vehicle. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, but surprisingly not out of fear, but out of uncertainty. How was she going to convince him to take her home?

She forced a smile. “Please, take me home.” She tried once again for the direct approach.

He smiled back, revealing perfectly even white teeth. “I can’t do that.” Under other circumstances, Sarah would have immediately put up her defenses. She had vowed she’d never let a man control her like Jimmy had. Yet, Deputy Jennings seemed to give off a different vibe than her macho ex. There was something soft around his hard edges.

But her hunches had been wrong before. Just the fact that she was in this situation proved her point. She couldn’t let her guard down because a handsome man smiled at her.

“I have a place I can take you.” Deputy Jennings shifted the vehicle into drive and her stomach lurched.

“No, please. Take me home.”

He cut her a sideways glance and his eyebrow twitched. Had he sensed her growing panic? If he had, he didn’t say as much.

“You can call me Nick.”

“Nick, take me home.” Frustration bubbled up inside her. The thought of pulling the door handle while they cruised at forty-five miles per hour down the country road entered her mind and left just as quickly. She had tried that once before, and Jimmy had grabbed her ponytail and yanked her back in, promising he’d snap her neck if she ever tried that again.

Nick didn’t look like the kind of man who would lay a hand on a woman.

Jimmy didn’t look like that kind of man, either. Not initially.

“Please, I need to go home.”

A look of confusion flickered across Nick’s face before he focused on the road in front of him again. “It’s okay. I won’t take you to the hospital. My sister runs a small health-care clinic on the edge of town. It won’t cost you anything. If we hurry, we can catch her before she closes up for the night. She usually works late. She can stitch you up right quick.”

When Sarah gasped, Nick added, “It won’t be bad, I’ve had plenty of stitches over the years, much to the dismay of my nanny. My sister’ll do it as a favor to me. Don’t worry about the cost.”

“Oh, I can’t.” Sarah’s head throbbed. She really, really wanted to go home and forget this miserable day. She couldn’t take free services that were meant for someone who really needed them. And they’d ask for her name. Details that could get her killed.

Her anxiety spiked. If she freaked out now, Deputy Jennings—Nick—would think she had a screw loose. Best to remain calm and not raise any more suspicions.

The yellow dash on the country road mesmerized Sarah. She had gotten used to hoofing it these past six months. A car required a license, registration, a digital footprint. Again, all things that would reveal her location, only sixty miles away from her stalker. She’d run away, but not too far. She needed to be able to reach her sick mother in Buffalo in an emergency. But for now, she stayed away, prayed for her mother’s health and maintained a low profile.

“How come we’ve never officially met before?” Nick asked, as if reading her thoughts.

“I haven’t been in town long.” Be vague.

“What brought you to Apple Creek?” He cut a sideways glance before returning his attention to what was in front of him and the equally spaced cat’s eyes dotting the edge of the dark road. His question sounded innocent enough, but how could she be sure?

“I’m a social worker working with individuals who are either addicted or susceptible to drug or alcohol addiction. I also work with single mothers—not necessarily Amish—to help them access programs and—”

“You mentioned that before. But why here? Why Apple Creek?” Nick glanced at her quickly, then back at the road.

“Why not?” Her words came out clipped despite her efforts to keep her tone even.

“Seems like a remote place. Most newcomers to Apple Creek nowadays are the Amish folk. Do you have ties to the area? Family?”

She crossed her ankles, then uncrossed them when she thought about the possibility of being in an accident and having her legs pinned against the dash in a contorted position. Sarah had a knack for worrying about everything.

She cleared her throat. “The Amish are an underserved area. Many young adults are afraid to reveal their problems, substance abuse or otherwise, to their own community for fear of punishment from the church. At least with me, I can help them work through their issues without the added burden of feeling like they’ve let down their parents or the church. My hope is to help my clients be the best person they can be, whether they decide to stay in the community or not. No judgment on my part.”

“How does that go over with the Amish community?” His tone reminded her of when people asked, “How’s that working for ya?” when it obviously wasn’t working at all.

“I want to believe most Amish people appreciate my efforts, even if they won’t publicly acknowledge what I’m doing. I can respect that. The Amish are a humble people who prefer to remain true to their own community.” She wanted, no she needed, to work under the radar. Nick didn’t need to know that. The fewer people who knew her predicament, the less likely she’d be discovered. “If I can help someone who is struggling with drugs or alcohol, everyone benefits.” Sarah let out a long sigh. Her own father had been killed by a drunk driver. Sarah had heard more than once that social workers tended to come out of the ranks of individuals who needed some fixing in their own lives. If only the person who’d decided to drink and drive the day her father had been killed had chosen a different path. Had chosen to get help. How different her life might have been.

“Do you think the person who threw the rock tonight was someone from your group meeting? Or maybe an angry family member who doesn’t appreciate what they might consider outside interference?”

“I don’t want to believe one of the people I’m trying to help did this.” A chill skittered up her spine. Actually, Deputy Jennings, I think it was my crazy ex-boyfriend, but I don’t know how he would have found me. Sarah had taken tremendous pains to keep her location secret. The only ones who knew her background were the pastor and his wife. And Sarah trusted them completely.

Of course, her mom back in Buffalo knew where her daughter was, but was careful to only contact her through her pastor, who would relay the message to Pastor Mike here in Apple Creek.

Sarah’s life had become a tangled web of carefully crafted half-truths and secrets. The more she talked, the greater chance she had of being discovered. That’s why outside of work she had primarily kept to herself since she arrived in Apple Creek six months ago.

“Most of my clients’ names are kept confidential.” Even as the words slipped from her mouth, she knew that wasn’t foolproof for confidentiality. Trust was the foundation of her group meetings. She couldn’t control what clients revealed about themselves or others once they left.

Being a social worker, regardless of the community, had inherent risks: unstable patients, angry relatives and venturing into unsavory neighborhoods. But her need to help others—provide hope—trumped any threat to her personal safety. She took precautions. She wasn’t stupid.

Nick made a noncommittal sound and slowed the vehicle, turning into the parking lot of a nondescript building. A lonely sedan with a dent in the back panel sat in the parking lot. “Good, we caught her.”

Her, no doubt, being his sister. The physician.

Sarah’s mouth went dry. “I can’t. I won’t get out of the car.”

“My sister’s a great doctor. Don’t worry.”

Sarah glanced around the empty parking lot. The lonely country road beyond that. Her stomach knotted.

Suddenly, she was irrationally angry at this man who, on the surface, only wanted to help her.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” she bit out.

Under the white glow from the spotlights illuminating the building and parking lot, a flash of something raced across his features. For the second time since she had met him earlier tonight, she noticed the vulnerability in his face. He turned to her, a look of apology in his eyes. “Let my sister take a look. Just a look. If after that you want to go home, I’ll take you. No questions asked.” He cracked his door and the dome light popped on.

Nodding, Sarah squinted against the brightness. Her stomach felt queasy.

The first rule of disappearing—her personal rule—was not to get involved with anyone. Nick Jennings looked a lot like someone who might be worth breaking a rule for.

If only he weren’t a police officer.

Sarah knew more than anyone that sometimes even the guys who were supposed to be good weren’t.

Jimmy Braeden, her stalker ex-boyfriend, was a prime example. Her ex was a cop. And if tonight was any indication, he may have finally found her.

Goose bumps raced across her arms and she shuddered. She turned and saw her hollow eyes in the reflection of the passenger window.

“Okay,” she said, part agreement, part sigh, “I’ll let your sister take a look.” Her acquiescence was mostly to get inside, out of the open. Away from the crosshairs of an abusive man who threatened he’d kill her before he’d ever let her go.

TWO

Sarah’s vision narrowed tunnellike as she climbed out of the deputy’s vehicle in the parking lot of the health-care clinic. In a flash, Nick moved next to her and grabbed her arm. Her first instinct was to pull away.

Run.

She blinked up at him.

“Are you okay? Here, sit.” His words sounded distant, jumbled in her ears. She was only partially aware of him yanking open the car door she had just slammed shut and ushering her to a seated position inside his vehicle. He crouched down in front of her and studied her eyes. “Are you dizzy?”

“I stood up too fast.” She had learned to make excuses to cover her panic attacks. It was less embarrassing this way. Her feelings were irrational, self-created, yet she couldn’t always control them.

“You’ve had a head injury.”

Sarah absentmindedly reached up and touched her head and pulled her fingers away, sticky with her own blood. Her stomach lurched and she shoved back a million memories of another time her head had been bleeding. Back then, the man with her hadn’t offered to help. No, it took several hours and a heaping dose of remorse before he came back to her, pleading for forgiveness with a promise to never lift a hand to her again.

Until the next time.

“Do you think you can make it into the clinic? If not, I can get a wheelchair from inside.”

Embarrassment edged out her feelings of anxiety, two emotions that twined around her lungs and made it difficult to breathe. “I can walk in.” One thing her ex-boyfriend had taught her was to pretend to be tough.

She had gotten good at pretending. At a lot of things.

Sarah stood and the officer hung close by her side, holding her elbow. He obviously wasn’t convinced. When they reached the door of the health-care clinic, it was locked. He buzzed the intercom and a crackling voice responded. “Who is it?”

“Christina, it’s Nick. I have a patient for you to examine.” He was talking into the intercom but his intense brown eyes were locked on hers, unnerving her.

“Urgent?” came his sister’s one word response.

“No, a few stitches.”

“Not a good idea,” Sarah muttered. She tried to pull away, but Nick gripped her arm tighter. She winced and he eased his hold, but not completely. She must have appeared as unsteady as she felt.

“I’m not going to let you go home with a head wound. I don’t want to get a call that you ended up dying in your sleep.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if his words were an exaggeration to wear down her resistance or a flat-out lie. She hardly thought her injury was that serious. “I was cut by glass, not hit by the rock.” She lifted her eyebrows and could feel the stiffness of the dried blood on her forehead.

The annoying buzzer released the lock on the door. As the deputy pulled it open, he whispered, “I’m trying to help you. Are you going to fight me every step of the way?”

She shrugged. She imagined she’d thank him one day for insisting she be treated for the cut on her head, sparing her from a lifetime of explaining how she got the scar, but today wasn’t that day.

They reached the dated waiting room. Dark stains—including a now-black piece of bubblegum—marred the bluish-gray carpet. Nick didn’t ask her to sit down on one of the blue plastic chairs, something her pounding head definitely would have appreciated. Instead he guided her through the office with a gentle hand on her waist and found his sister on the phone in the back.

The attractive woman, her long dark hair pulled up into a messy bun, mouthed without making a sound, “Give me a minute.” Her gaze traveled the length of Sarah, a scrutiny Sarah had tried to avoid at all costs since she had moved into the small cottage in Apple Creek and set up her quiet practice through the church.

Sarah’s face heated and the urge to flee nearly overwhelmed her. Don’t have a panic attack. Don’t have a panic attack.

The physician pointed at the open door of an adjacent examination room. Nick understood the silent directive and led Sarah into the room. At his insistence, she sat on the exam table, the white, protective paper crinkling as she scooted back. Nick stood sentinel at her side, and an awkward silence joined the steady hum of an air conditioner. Sarah was grateful for the cool air blowing across her skin.

The doctor’s appearance in the doorway was never more welcomed. Her gaze went from her brother to Sarah and back to her brother.

“Sarah was cut by broken glass. Someone threw a rock through the basement window of the church.”

If Sarah hadn’t been watching the doctor’s face, she might have missed the slight flinch. “The church, huh? Is nothing sacred?”

Sarah lifted a shoulder, finding it difficult to respond.

“I don’t have insurance,” Sarah repeated her lie. “I can pay over time if that’s okay?”

“We treat a lot of patients without insurance. We’ll figure something out. First things first.” The physician grabbed a clipboard. “Do you mind filling out this form?”

Sarah took the clipboard in her shaky hands and stared at it. Her pulse rushed in her head and the letters forming the words Name, Address, Phone number scrambled in her field of vision. She placed the clipboard down on the crinkly white paper and slid off the table.

Nick gently touched her elbow.

The world shifted around Sarah, and she grabbed the smooth vinyl edge of the table to steady herself. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“You need to have that cut looked at.” Nick, in his crisp sheriff’s uniform, loomed over her, his commanding voice vibrating through her. The walls grew close. Too close.

Sarah pushed past him. “I don’t have to do anything.”

“Wait,” the physician said. Instinctively, Sarah stopped in her tracks. “You.” The physician pointed at her brother. “Wait outside.” She turned to Sarah. “And you. Please, let me look at your injuries.”

A small smile touched the attractive doctor’s face. “You don’t have to fill out any paperwork.”

Sarah let out a long sigh, and without meeting Nick’s gaze, she returned to the exam table. The deputy slipped outside and closed the door.

The physician examined her in silence. The young doctor smelled like flowers and coconut lotion. She brushed a damp gauze pad across Sarah’s wound. “I’d feel better if we put a few stitches in this cut. I’d hate for you to have a huge scar.”

“Do you really think that’s necessary, Dr. Jennings?” Sarah didn’t notice a wedding ring on her finger, and since she was the deputy’s sister, she made the leap that her last name was the same as Nick’s.

“Yes, I do. And feel free to call me Christina. If I wanted to be Dr. Jennings I would have stayed at the big research hospital where I did my residency before I opened this clinic.”

Christina got out her instruments, and Sarah found herself wrapping her fingers around the edge of the table as another wave of panic crested below the surface.

“Perhaps you should lie down. I’d hate for you to pass out while I’m working on you.” With her hand to Sarah’s shoulder, Christina guided her patient to a supine position.

Christina cleaned the wound with a cool swab. “I’m glad you caught me. I was about to close up for the night.” The doctor ran the back of her protective glove across her forehead. “It’s been a long day, and the paperwork is endless.”

As Christina leaned in close to examine Sarah’s wound, Sarah noticed creases lined the physician’s pretty brown eyes, making her a few years older than Sarah first would have guessed.

“Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time. I had tried to tell your brother I didn’t need medical attention.”

Christina made a sound with her lips pressed together, a cross between an “I see” and “let me make that decision.” Sarah didn’t ask what she meant by that because she figured it didn’t matter. If she got these stitches maybe Nick would leave her alone and she’d resume her quiet life. God willing.

Unless Jimmy had found her...

Sarah swallowed back her nausea, fearing if she let her worries take root, she’d have a full-blown anxiety attack.

Dear Lord, protect me and please, please, please keep me safe from Jimmy.

They fell into silence as Christina focused on the task of suturing Sarah’s wound. After Christina finished, she placed a small bandage across Sarah’s forehead near her hairline. Christina smiled at her work. “I think that should heal nicely. My father once suggested I go into plastic surgery, but my heart had more humble goals.” Christina’s brown eyes met Sarah’s as if to say, “So, here I am in this small-town health-care clinic.”

Christina held Sarah’s hand and helped her swing around to a seated position. The physician tipped her head and met Sarah’s eyes. “You feel okay?”

Sarah nodded. As good as I’m going to feel under the circumstances. But she kept that thought to herself. She had learned to keep a lot of things to herself over the past six months. And even before that.

Christina turned her back to Sarah and put a few instruments onto a tray. “Is there anything you’d like to share with me?”

Emotion rose in Sarah’s throat, and she cut her gaze toward the door. The need for escape was strong. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Christina turned around slowly. “I’ve seen a lot working in a rural health-care clinic.” She tipped her chin toward the discarded clipboard. “You didn’t want to share any personal information. What or who are you hiding from?”

Sarah’s cheeks flared hot. “I’m...” The lie died on her lips. She had mentally trained herself to deny, deny, deny even though deceit went against her Christian upbringing. White lies were a matter of self-preservation. She prayed God would understand.

Sarah looked at the closed door. Christina was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. Sarah closed her eyes and made a decision. She’d confide in Christina.

Sarah swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I came to Apple Creek to get away from my ex-boyfriend.”

“He’s abusive.”

“Yes. I feared if I stayed in Buffalo, he’d kill me.”

Christina reached out and squeezed Sarah’s hand. “I’m sorry.” She narrowed her gaze. “Do you think he found you? Do you think he could have been the one to throw the rock through the window? To scare you?”

“No, no. No one knows where I am.” Sarah hoped saying the words out loud would make them true.

“No one?”

“Only the pastor and his wife. And our pastor back home. My mother also knows where I am. It gives her some peace to know.”

Christina flattened her lips and nodded, as if giving it some thought.

“And my brother?”

Sarah shook her head, her eyes flaring wide. “No, I just met your brother tonight.”

“My brother’s a deputy. He can protect you.”

“My ex-boyfriend’s a cop. He’s on the force in Orchard Gardens, a suburb of Buffalo.” Sarah’s voice grew soft, dejected. “He didn’t protect me.”

Christina twisted her lips. “My brother’s a good guy.”

Sarah gingerly touched the bandage on her forehead. “A lot of people think Officer Jimmy Braeden is a good guy. Do you know how hard it is to file a police report when his brothers in blue think he’s such a great guy?” All the old hurt and pain twisted in her gut. “No thanks.”

“I think you’d be safer if someone in law enforcement here in Apple Creek knew to be on the lookout for him. Where do you live?”

A little voice in the back of Sarah’s head was growing louder and louder: Don’t tell her. Don’t let her in. He’ll find you.

“I rented the cottage on the Zook’s property.” A knot in her chest eased a fraction. It felt good to confide in someone. Was Christina right? Should she let Nick in on her secret?

“I don’t want anyone else to know what I’m running away from. I’m safer this way,” Sarah blurted before she changed her mind.

“What about tonight? Do you think he found you?”

The heat of anxiety rippled across Sarah’s skin. “Tonight was just some kids.”

“But you don’t know that.”

“There’s no way Jimmy knows where I am.”

“Are you sure?” The tone of the doctor’s voice sent cold shards shooting through Sarah’s veins.

Sarah shoved back her shoulders, trying to muster a confidence she didn’t feel. “I have stayed off the radar for six months. No car. No credit card purchases. I’ve been careful about contact with anyone from my past. There’s no way he can know I’m here.” And if Jimmy had found her, he wouldn’t have simply thrown a rock through the window and fled. He would have stayed, stormed into the basement and killed her.

Unless he wanted to terrorize her first. Make a game of it. Jimmy loved nothing more than playing games. Games that were stacked in his favor.

Sarah shook her head both to answer Christina’s question and to shake away her constant irrational thoughts. This is what Jimmy had done to her. Not just the physical abuse, he had made her question her own sanity.

She had to flee Buffalo to save herself physically, emotionally and professionally. Jimmy was able to poke so many holes in her accusations that her job as a social worker for the county had been in jeopardy.

Christina ran a hand across her chin. “If you’re running away, why only go an hour from Buffalo? You could have gone anywhere. The other side of the country.”

“It’s twofold really. The pastor of my old church had a connection here in Apple Creek. They needed a social worker. And my mother still lives in the area.”