Amish Refuge. Debby Giusti

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      “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 СКАЧАТЬ