The Amish Witness. Diane Burke

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      Thomas grinned. He didn’t speak but sent her a knowing glance.

      “Okay. So he’s probably going to let me stay. But I’ll still have to sell my car.”

      “How did it feel to be able to drive your own car?”

      “I must admit that is one of the Englisch luxuries I really enjoyed.”

      “Will you miss it?”

      “Nah. If I feel like driving, I’ll climb on one of the plows and take a spin in the fields with the horses.”

      Now Thomas had to laugh, as his mind painted a picture of that event.

      “I find it hard to picture you behind the wheel of a car,” he said. “You seem more the buggy type.”

      “I am the buggy type. Always have been. But I loved my little Honda Fit, with its racing stripes on the side.”

      “Honda Fit?”

      “Yep. C’mon. I’ll show it to you.”

      Like a flash she was off, scampering across the barn floor toward the back exit. Thomas chuckled, pushed off from the stall he’d been leaning against and lumbered after her.

      “Thomas.”

      The urgency in her voice made his blood run cold. What if that man had returned? He raced toward the back of the barn. When he cleared the open doorway, he skidded to a stop.

      Elizabeth stood to his right, leaning heavily against the barn wall.

      Thomas shot a hurried glance in every other direction, trying to find the danger or intruder, but saw nothing. His eyes moved back toward Elizabeth and his heart squeezed. She looked so fragile and small and scared. Her body trembled and the piece of paper she held in her hand rattled.

      “Elizabeth? What’s wrong?”

      The blood had drained from her face. She was almost as white as the paper she held in her hands. Fear widened her eyes and she didn’t speak. Shakily, she held out the note.

      He slid it from her fingers. Anger coursed through his body when he read the words:

      I want what is mine. I will contact you again soon with a time and place to meet. Tell no one. I warn you, give it to me or die.

      * * *

      “Kumm in. Sit down.” Bishop Eli Schwartz ushered Thomas, Elizabeth and Mary into the front room. His wife, Sarah, offered them tea and cookies, which they gratefully accepted. Once his wife had left the room, the bishop turned his attention to his guests.

      “Welcome back, Elizabeth. It is good to see you again. I heard you were back. Are you here for a visit or are you planning to stay?”

      Elizabeth wasn’t surprised he had heard she was back. Nothing traveled faster in the Amish community than news. She tried unsuccessfully not to squirm in her seat. Instead she attempted to hide her nervousness by clasping her fingers tightly in her lap.

      “My intention, Bishop, was to be baptized and move back permanently.”

      “Wonderful.” The bishop’s gaze flew from one to the other before it settled on Elizabeth. He raised a brow. “And now?”

      Thomas glanced at her for permission and when she nodded he took over the conversation. She listened with only half an ear as he filled in the bishop on everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

      She released a breath and relaxed. She knew she shouldn’t be relying on Thomas. She should be explaining the circumstances to the bishop on her own. She was strong, independent and hadn’t needed a man’s help for seven years. She didn’t need a man to speak for her now.

      But having someone to talk to, someone to comfort her, someone to make her feel protected and safe, even if just for a little while—was that really so bad?

      “Elizabeth?”

      She startled at the sound of her name.

      “The piece of paper?” The bishop held out his hand.

      Elizabeth drew the folded paper from her apron pocket and handed it over.

      The older man studied it, deep furrows appearing in his forehead and at the sides of his mouth. Then he folded the paper and handed it back to her.

      “Who else knows about this?” he asked.

      “No one.”

      The bishop nodded, leaned back in his chair and silently stroked his beard.

      “I am willing to leave, Bishop, if you think it would be best for everyone else,” Elizabeth said.

      “I am sure Gott has waited patiently for you to return, to repent and be baptized.” The bishop smiled, sipped his tea and then placed the cup back down on the side table. “I know your mamm has waited many years for you to find your way home. Now you are here. That is a gut thing. Who am I to send you away?”

      “But this man?”

      “We will deal with him. I will speak with the elders and tell them what is going on. Meanwhile, you need to go home. Keep your eyes open. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t do anything foolish.”

      “Should we tell the sheriff?” Thomas asked.

      Elizabeth knew it was hard for him to ask that question of the bishop because the Amish do not like to involve the Englisch, especially law enforcement, in their lives.

      “I don’t think that is necessary yet.” The bishop nodded toward Elizabeth’s pocket, which housed the note. “The man wants to meet with Elizabeth. Until he contacts her again, I do not believe she is in any immediate danger.” He stroked his beard again. “What do you have that he wants? What did Hannah give you?”

      “She didn’t give me anything. I don’t know what this man wants.” Elizabeth tried to remember every conversation between them on the day of Hannah’s death.

      “Wait!” She leaned forward. “I have a carton of Hannah’s belongings. I dropped the one I was carrying into the condo when I ran for my life, but I had another one still in my car.” She couldn’t keep the excitement and hope out of her voice. “That must be it! Whatever the man wants must be in that box.”

      “Where is this box?” the bishop asked.

      “On the floor of the backseat of my car.” She shot a hurried glance at each one of them. “I completely forgot about it. It has to be in the box. I don’t have anything else.”

      “Gut.” The bishop’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “For now, we will play his game. We will let him think we are willing to return this elusive item. No sheriff. Not yet. Let me discuss it with the elders first. You go home and search through that box. Whatever was worth killing poor Hannah over should be easy to recognize. When we know what we are dealing with we will decide the proper way to proceed.”

      The bishop stood, indicating СКАЧАТЬ