Amish Haven. Dana R. Lynn

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       THREE

      Exhausted was too weak a word to describe how Annabelle felt as Rick finally pulled into her mother’s driveway Thursday evening.

      Nerves had her continuously checking her side mirror to make sure that no one was following them. A couple of times, she got spooked by a car driving too close. Rick took no chances, to her relief. If he thought a car was suspicious, he would turn off the road, or see if it would pass them. Every time, the cars would pass them or keep going straight. It didn’t help her relax. The danger was still very real.

      When they were an hour away from her mother’s house, Rick allowed her to call her mother on a burner phone.

      “If they are tracking you, using your cell would be too dangerous.”

      Her mother didn’t pick up. The answering machine kicked on. “Mom, are you there? Mom?”

      “Annabelle? I didn’t recognize the number.”

      “I know. Listen, I’m going to be at your house in an hour. A friend is driving me.”

      The last hour of the trip dragged on and on.

      Her mother was up waiting for them. Annabelle had told her as much as she dared on the phone. She didn’t mention Tyler. Even if she wasn’t going into witness protection, he was. It wasn’t a good idea to broadcast that information, even to her mother. Instead, she told her that someone had been bothering them at home and she needed a safe spot for a few days, so that she could figure out her next move.

      Rick waited until she was inside before he left.

      “Thanks, Mom.” Annabelle leaned into her mother’s arms as she stepped through the door. Bethany hovered at her side, blue eyes bleary with sleep.

      Nancy Schmidt kissed her daughter’s cheek. “You know you’re always welcome, sweetheart.” She turned to her granddaughter. “Bethany, do you have a hug for your grammy?”

      Bethany lifted her arms to her grandmother, yawning as the woman pulled her close. “Tired, Grammy.”

      “You should have invited your friend in for a few minutes.” Curiosity burned in Nancy’s eyes.

      “He couldn’t stay,” Annabelle replied, not meeting her mother’s eyes. Thankfully, the older woman allowed the subject to drop.

      “Have you eaten?”

      Annabelle and Bethany both shook their heads.

      Nancy bustled them toward the kitchen. “I heated up some mac-’n’-cheese. Eat, then you can go to bed. We can talk in the morning.”

      A gentle sigh slid from Annabelle. She should have known that her mother would have something ready for them to eat, no matter what time they showed up.

      Forty-five minutes later, Annabelle was in her old bedroom, staring into the darkness. Her mind wouldn’t settle down. Had she made the right decision? At the time, she’d been so angry, so scared. Now? Now she was worried that she might have brought danger to her mother’s doorstep.

      Maybe the people after Tyler would leave her alone once he disappeared.

      Or maybe they’d become more aggressive.

       Lord, grant me wisdom. Help me to do the right thing and protect my little girl.

      Around midnight, she finally dropped off into a fitful sleep. Her rest was interrupted by nightmares. Nightmares of a stranger taking Bethany. She ran after him, but he kept running. Just when she thought she’d catch him, he’d vanish right in front of her. Bethany was crying out for her to save her, but she was always too far away.

      Bolting straight up into a sitting position, Annabelle panted like she’d been running, sweat clinging to her skin. The sun was just starting to peek through the windows. It was early. No other sounds stirred in the house. She slipped out of the bed, welcoming the familiar comfort of the shag carpet under her bare feet. She could do with more sleep, but the thought of returning to bed made her shudder. Instead, she headed toward the shower.

      When she emerged, she followed the aroma of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls to the kitchen. Her mother was awake, but Bethany was still in bed. Poor thing, she had to be wiped out after all they’d been through in the past couple of days.

      “Hey, Mom.” Annabelle helped herself to a cup of coffee, added some mocha creamer, then slid into a chair at the table.

      “Annabelle.” Nancy scooped a warm cinnamon roll onto a plate and placed it in front of her daughter with a fork. “I would ask if you slept well, but I can see you didn’t.”

      Annabelle sighed. While she considered what to say, she forked a bite of the pastry into her mouth, closing her eyes to savor the sticky-sweet flavor. “Mmm. Delicious. I had trouble sleeping. Too many things happening.” She raised her eyes to her mother’s concerned face. “I keep worrying if I should have come here. I hate to think I put you in any kind of jam.”

      Her mother clucked her tongue. “Now, don’t you be worrying about me. You and my granddaughter are my priority. Always have been.”

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