Shelter From The Storm. Patricia Davids

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      She held up the flyer she had picked up in Boston. “The schedule said there is a bus going to Caribou every day.”

      “Look at the small print. There is, until the fifteenth of November. After that, bus service drops to every other day until the fifteenth of April. Today’s bus left two hours ago. Won’t be another one until the day after tomorrow. Next,” he called out, leaning to look around her.

      Only one elderly man stood behind her. He held out a piece of white pipe. “Do you have a J-trap that will fit this size and PVC glue?”

      “I sure do, but you’ll need cleaner, as well.” The agent came out from behind the counter and led the man to the plumbing section of the hardware store that doubled as a bus station in Cleary.

      Gemma waited impatiently for him to come back. When he did, she clasped her hands together tightly, praying the tears that pricked the back of her eyes wouldn’t start flowing. She couldn’t afford a motel room for two nights. “I don’t have much money with me. Are there any Amish families in this area?”

      The man behind the counter rubbed his chin. “Let me think.”

      The Amish opened their homes to other members of their faith even if they had never met. She would be welcomed, fed and made to feel like one of the family. The command to care for one another was more than a saying. It was a personal commitment taken seriously by every Amish family, no matter how poor or how well-to-do they were. Many times, she had seen her mother stretch a meal for three into a meal for twice that many when Amish travelers appeared unexpectedly at their door. She waited hopefully for the clerk’s answer.

      He shook his head. “Nope. Not that I’m aware of anyway.”

      She sniffed as her vision blurred. “Thank—thank you.” She started to turn away, humiliated by her runaway emotions. They were one more unhappy part of her horrible situation.

      “You might check with the sheriff,” the agent offered with a hint of sympathy in his tone. “He may know of some.”

      She managed a half smile for him. “Where do I find the sheriff?”

      “I’ll call him for you. He’s usually home for lunch at this time of day. You are welcome to wait here.” He gestured to a wooden bench sitting in front of a large plate-glass window.

      She nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat, and wheeled her suitcase over to the bench. Sitting down with a sigh, she moved her suitcase in front of her, so she could prop up her swollen feet. She leaned her head back against the glass and closed her eyes. After two solid days on a bus, she was ready to lie down. Anywhere.

      “Miss? Excuse me, miss.”

      Gemma opened her eyes sometime later to see the agent standing in front of her. She blinked away the fog in her brain. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”

      “You’ve been snoozing for a couple of hours. The sheriff just got back to me. He’s been working an accident out on Wyman Road. He doesn’t know of any Amish in these parts. You’ve been here for quite a while. I thought you might like something to eat. You mentioned you were short on funds, so I brought you a burger from the café down the street.” He held out a white paper bag.

      “Danki. Thank you. That’s very kind.” She sat up surprised by the unexpected gift. What did he hope to gain by it? She rubbed her stiff neck and waited to hear the catch. “It smells wunderbar.” She slowly took the bag from him.

      “You’re welcome to use our phone to call someone. The store will be closing in an hour, but the diner down the street stays open all night.” He sent her an apologetic glance and walked away.

      She bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. She could place a call to the phone shanty her parents shared with their Amish neighbors to let them know she was returning and ask her father to send a car for her, but she would have to leave a message. It was unlikely that anyone would check the machine this late in the day.

      Besides, any message she left would be overheard. She knew two women who checked the machine each morning for the sole purpose of keeping up with the local gossip. Unless she gave a reason for her abrupt return, speculation would spread quickly. If she gave the real reason, even Jesse Crump would know before she reached home. She couldn’t bear that, although she didn’t understand why his opinion mattered so much. His stoic face wouldn’t reveal his thoughts, but he was sure to gloat when he learned he’d been right about her. He had called her a spoiled baby looking for trouble and said that she would find it sooner or later. Well, she had found it all right. A thousand miles away from him in Florida.

      No, she wouldn’t call. She didn’t want to make her parents the center of conjecture about her return or have them bear the expense of hiring a car to fetch her. What she had to say was better said face-to-face. She was cowardly enough to delay as long as possible. Her appetite gone, she put the burger bag on the bench beside her.

      She didn’t know how she was going to find the courage to tell her mother and father that she was six months pregnant and Robert Fisher, the man who’d promised to marry her, was long gone.

      * * *

      Jesse and Dale delivered both sheds as promised, but the second customer wasn’t ready for them, despite having chosen the date and time for them to arrive. The two men spent an extra three hours helping the owner clear the area where he wanted it. They even leveled out a gravel pad for him before setting the building in place.

      Jesse joined Dale in the cab of his ancient but prized pickup when they were done. Dale’s expression showed his annoyance. “I can’t believe we did all that work for him and then he claimed it was included in the price of the shed instead of paying us. What a rip-off. There are always a few dishonest folks who think they can stick it to the Amish and get away with it, because the Amish won’t come after them for the money.”

      Jesse understood Dale’s frustration, but his faith required him to forgive those who would do him ill. “Give thanks that you are not like him. It is better to be a poor man than a dishonest one.”

      “It’s a good thing I’m not Amish. I’m gonna get my money and I’ll get yours too. I have a brother-in-law who works for an attorney. I’m not afraid to go after someone who cheats me.” Dale turned the truck key but nothing happened. He tried again with the same result. He glanced sheepishly at Jesse. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

      He hopped out of the cab and reached behind his seat to pull out a large toolbox. “This old heap has taught me to never go anywhere without my tools.”

      He raised the hood and propped it open, disappearing from Jesse’s view. A few seconds later, he looked around at Jesse. “Loose battery cable. Try it now.”

      Jesse scooted across the bench seat until he was behind the wheel. He turned the key and the truck roared to life. Dale dropped the hood, pushed his toolbox behind the seat again and got in as Jesse moved back to his side of the seat. “Are we heading back, or do you want to get a motel room tonight and start fresh in the morning?”

      A glance at Dale’s face told Jesse his coworker was worn-out. “We’ll get a room.”

      As eager as Jesse was to get back, making the long drive this late wasn’t practical. Tomorrow afternoon would be soon enough to have the bank issue him a cashier’s check as earnest money for the auction the СКАЧАТЬ