Amish Christmas Twins. Patricia Davids

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      He shrugged. “Little ones speak the truth as they see it.”

      Relieved that he wasn’t offended, she smiled her thanks. “You must have children of your own if you know how embarrassing they can be.”

      His expression hardened. “Nee, Gott has not blessed me with kinder.”

      His tone said the conversation was over. Remembering how much her Amish grandfather had disliked idle chitchat, Willa whispered to her girls, “We must be quiet so we don’t scare the horses or annoy our new friend.”

      She settled them against her sides, hoping they would fall asleep again as they had on the bus. Willa remained silent, too. The less she said, the better. She couldn’t believe she had let slip that she was going to her grandfather’s farm, but at least she’d caught herself before she blurted out where they were from.

      God had been looking out for her when He sent this man to aid her. Unlike some of the talkative, nosy people on the bus who were full of questions about the twins, an Amish person was unlikely to be inquisitive. Most believed it was impolite to question strangers. Others worried they might be speaking to a shunned former member and would choose silence out of caution. Either way, it worked to her advantage now.

      Soon they would be safe with her grandfather. She refused to think about what would happen if he turned them away. He wouldn’t. She had to believe that.

      The rocking of the wagon, the jingle of the harnesses and the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves slowly soothed the tenseness from her muscles. She closed her eyes to rest them just for a minute.

      The moment she opened the door and saw a police officer standing in the hall outside their apartment in a run-down section of Columbus, Willa knew something terrible had happened. An accident, the officer said. A hit-and-run. Glen was dead. They were still looking for the driver. At least the police officer didn’t take her daughters away from her.

      Willa stumbled through the following days of grief with leaden feet. After writing to inform Glen’s parents, she moved again. Glen had always been the one to say when and where they went. He knew how to erase their trail—only no matter how often they moved, he would inevitably come home one day and say they had to go again. His parents were closing in. She shared Glen’s deep-seated fear without knowing why. She knew only that his parents had the power and the money to take the children away. They said she was an unfit mother. She had been, but she was better now. Glen was the one who knew what to do. How could she fight his parents without him? She was pregnant, broke and on her own against their terrible scheme. She could think of only one way to keep her children safe. She had to run.

      Someone grabbed her arm. Willa jerked upright. It took her a few seconds to gather her foggy wits. The wagon had stopped moving. She found her Amish Good Samaritan staring at her.

      “You were asleep. I feared you’d falla out da wagon.”

      She checked her daughters and found them awake, too. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

      He released her. “Is this your grandfather’s place?”

      She looked past him and saw a mailbox for E. Lapp. A glance up the lane proved she had arrived at her destination, for she recognized the farm where she’d grown up. “It is. Girls, we are here. Thank the nice man for giving us a ride.”

      Lucy did. Megan only glared at him. Willa got down and lifted them off the wagon without his help. He touched the brim of his hat and drove on. He glanced back once. Willa knew because she was still standing by the mailbox looking after him. She raised her hand in a simple wave. He did the same and then turned back to the road.

      The Amish were quiet, kind, peaceful people. Willa had forgotten how unassuming they could be during the years she had been away. Her Good Samaritan hadn’t asked a single question about who she was or why she was in the middle of nowhere with two little children. She was glad he hadn’t. She hated the idea that she might have had to lie to him.

      She watched the burly man drive away with a sense of loss, almost as if she were losing a gentle giant of a friend. Although he was a stranger, she had felt safe in his company. For the first time since her panicked flight from Columbus, she felt hopeful about her decision to return to her Amish grandfather. It had to be the right choice. She didn’t have another option.

      She cupped a hand over her abdomen and raised her chin. Time was short, but she would find a safe place for her daughters and her unborn baby before it was too late.

      Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, she shepherded her tired girls up the dirt lane. When she drew close to the house, she saw an elderly man standing on the farmhouse steps. It had been ten years since they’d last met. It wasn’t a time she liked to recall. She stopped a few feet away. “Hello, Grandfather.”

      Ezekiel Lapp’s weathered face gave no indication of what he was thinking. His dark Amish clothing, full gray beard and black hat added to his somber appearance, but he was frailer and thinner than she remembered. Her daughters clung to her legs as they peered at him from behind her.

      “Why have you come?” he asked.

      “I wanted you to meet my daughters. This is Megan and this is Lucy.” Willa placed a hand behind their heads and urged them to step forward. Lucy faced him, but Megan spun around and retreated behind Willa again.

      “Hi.” Lucy opened and closed her fingers to wave at him.

      “Where is your Englisch husband?” Ezekiel asked, ignoring the child.

      “Glen passed away six months ago.”

      * * *

      “It was Gott’s will, but I am sorry for your loss,” Ezekiel said softly in Pennsylvania Deitsh, the language of the Amish.

      Willa blinked back tears. The pain was still fresh in her heart. “Danki. Thank you.”

      “Mama is sad,” Megan said.

      “I sad,” Lucy added. “I’m cold, Mama.”

      The early fall wind had a bite to it. Willa shivered despite the coat she wore. It wasn’t heavy enough, but it was the only one she had that she could button across her pregnant stomach.

      “Come inside.” Ezekiel turned and went in the house without waiting for them.

      Relief made Willa’s knees weak. So far, so good.

      She had no idea what she would do if he turned them away. She had spent the last of her money to get this far. Unless her grandfather took them in, they would be sleeping in a barn or under a bridge tonight. She climbed the steps with the girls close beside her.

      Inside the house, little had changed since the day her parents walked away from their Amish life with her in tow. The wide plank floor of the kitchen had been scrubbed clean. A simple table with four chairs sat in the center of the room. The windows were free of shades or curtains, for an upright Amish family in her grandfather’s ultraconservative church had nothing to hide from the outside world. A single plate, cup and fork in the dish drainer by the sink proved her grandfather still lived alone. The room smelled faintly of bleach and stout coffee. The scent transported her to the past the way nothing else had done.

      She had been fifteen the last time she stood in this room, completely confused by the family СКАЧАТЬ