Amish Country Amnesia. Meghan Carver

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       THREE

      John helped as best he could in cleaning up their simple breakfast of sticky rolls and scrambled eggs, but his skills were so lacking that he figured he hadn’t done much kitchen work before. His shoulders sagged at the thought of how long it might take to regain his memory.

      Sarah was jittery as she quickly washed the dishes and laid them out on a towel to dry. Between keeping an eye on him and jumping up to look out the window, she barely sat for the meal. He hoped his presence wasn’t too upsetting to her, but how could it not be? She didn’t know him, and yet here he sat, completely dependent upon her goodness. What kind of man was he? Could he be trusted? Was he honorable? Neither of them knew.

      As she laid the last glass on the drying towel, he ventured a suggestion. “I think we need to head back to the scene of the accident. Or was it an attack? It’s frustrating not even to know what happened yesterday.” He rubbed a hand over the knot in the back of his neck and took a deep breath. “If I could just remember—something, anything—I might know what to do next. But there could be something at the site to help me remember. Fill in some of the emptiness. It’s a good time to look because of the bright sunshine. If there’s any clue there, we should be able to find it.”

      Lyddie ran for her heavy cape. “Mamm, may I take Snowball and the sled?”

      Sarah turned from the sink to her daughter, her eyes wide. “It has not yet been decided.” She set her worried look on John. “Do you think it is safe?”

      What did he think? With this amnesia, his mind felt like it couldn’t think, or at least it was difficult to think. “You said there was no one there when you found me. And obviously, no one has found us here. To be completely honest, I don’t know. But it seems that it should be, and I don’t have any other ideas for how to figure out who I am or where I’m supposed to be. I think this is my only chance.”

      “Jah. I think you are right.” She hung up the towel and headed for the stairs. “I will put on an extra pair of leggings for warmth, and we shall go. Lyddie, same for you. And we will take Snowball but not the sled. John, what do you think?”

      “Yes, the sled could get in the way, but the dog could be helpful in staying alert.”

      A few minutes later, John had bundled on a heavy wool coat and hat that Sarah had in the barn, and they set off toward the site of his snowmobile crash. The sunshine made the snow sparkle, but it did not add any warmth to the day, and he pulled the coat closer around him. Snowball frisked about, her white tail curled up over her back. John had no doubt that the dog would sniff out danger before he saw it. But John still couldn’t help constantly scanning their surroundings for anything remotely suspicious.

      As he crested the top of the ridge, John got his first good look at the snowmobile. But all that remained were charred parts and crumpled fiberglass. A whisper of smoke half-heartedly rose from the wreckage, but it was not enough to mark their location to anyone nearby. He held out an arm to stop Sarah and Lyddie. He listened for a full minute, but the only sound close by was the panting of the malamute.

      He skidded down the slope and stopped next to the debris. Would it summon up any memories? The vinyl seat remained intact, and he tried to picture himself sitting on it, his hands on the handlebars. His snowmobile suit was gray. He knew that because he had seen it. But nothing dislodged any memories.

      “Spread out a bit,” he instructed Sarah and Lyddie. “Look for anything that might be the least bit helpful.”

      Sarah circled around the creek bed, where she had found him the day before, her head bent to the task. Lyddie followed behind her mother, overturning a few rocks. She wandered toward the woods, picking up sticks and throwing them into the trees, and then returned toward John. Her full blue skirt swished against her black snow boots, and snow that had fallen from the trees rested on her shoulders and kapp. Snowball followed her faithfully, sniffing in her footsteps.

      The child was adorable, but John forced himself to return his gaze to the remains of the accident site.

      “Look! I found something!” Lyddie’s squeal of delight drew him quickly to her side. She bent to the ground and retrieved from the snow a piece of metal that reflected the bright sunshine.

      The snow quickly brushed off of the edges, and she handed it to John. “What is it? What does it say?”

      Sarah appeared at his side, her breath puffing in small clouds. “It is the badge of a police officer.”

      “Fort Wayne Police Department,” John read. “Is that far from here?”

      “It is over an hour by car.” She shrugged. “We pay a driver and go to shop sometimes. Is this yours?”

      “I don’t know. It could be mine. СКАЧАТЬ