Her Forgotten Amish Past. Debby Giusti

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      Zeke had not been able to sleep, not when a strange woman was in the house, a woman who Hattie said did not know her own name. He paced back and forth across the kitchen and then accepted the cup of coffee his aunt offered once the pot had finished brewing.

      “Instead of drinking coffee, Ezekiel, you should return to bed. Dawn will not find us for another few hours and there is nothing either of us can do until then.”

      He glanced down at the sweet woman who had provided not only a home but also acceptance when he needed it most. “I do not see you following your own advice, Hattie.”

      She chuckled. “Which means both of us are either dummkopfs or concerned about our guest.”

      “You are not a stupid person, although some have called me worse names. For this reason, we cannot get involved.”

      Hattie frowned. “What do you suggest we do? Throw the woman out with the dishwater?”

      He leaned against the counter. “I should not have brought her here.”

      “As if you would abandon a woman on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Do I know more about you, Ezekiel, than you know about yourself?”

      “I know that neither you nor I want our lives disturbed.”

      “Helping a person in need is more important than our peace and quiet.”

      He nodded. “You are right. Still, I worry.”

      “You worry because of what happened, but we learn from our mistakes. Some days I fear you learned too well.”

      “Meaning what?”

      “Meaning you hole up on this farm and venture into town late in the evening and take the long way home as if you are afraid to see anyone. You do not go with me to Sunday church or on visits to friends. You have not spoken to your father for over two years.”

      He glanced through the kitchen window at the darkness outside. “My father is busy being the bishop.”

      Hattie tugged at his arm. “Yah, he is a busy man, but he is still your father.”

      Zeke met her gaze. “A father who is disappointed with his son.”

      She tilted her head and leaned closer. “Then perhaps you must earn his respect again. His love is ever present.”

      “You accepted me, Hattie.”

      “I am your mother’s sister without children of my own. You have always been the son I never had.”

      “For which I am grateful.”

      “Your mother’s life ended too quickly for both of us. Your father said it was Gott’s will, yet I do not believe Gott wills us pain.”

      “Do not let my father hear you say such things. He will have you shunned for going against the Ordnung.”

      “He did not shun you, Ezekiel.”

      “Only because I was not baptized.”

      She raised a brow. “Which you could change.”

      “Then I would be forced to attend services and listen to my father preach. We would both be uncomfortable.”

      Hattie tsked. “You are headstrong, like your father.”

      “I am determined, not headstrong.”

      “Then why are you running from life instead of facing it?”

      He stared at her for a long moment, surprised by the truth in her statement. Hattie was right. She did know him better than he knew himself. He finished the coffee and placed the cup in the sink just as footsteps sounded on the stairs.

      They both turned to find the woman staring at them. She was dressed in one of Hattie’s nightgowns with a robe wrapped around her slender frame. A bruise darkened her cheek and her left eye was swollen almost shut. Bandages covered cuts on her forehead and lower arms where Hattie had tended her wounds.