Amish Country Amnesia Read online

  There was nothing there.

  He paused, listening intently for the sound of any vehicle. There seemed to be the whine of an engine a way off, perhaps even two. But that could be traffic through the parking lot or from the road on the other side of the building. He stepped from behind the Dumpster, his muscles tensed and ready to flee if necessary.

  A few quiet steps took him to the other side of the trash bin and the edge of the building. He exhaled slowly and then peered around the corner.

  There it was. The sheriff’s car had just reached the other end of the market building and was turning the corner to drive through the front parking lot and, hopefully, to the exit onto the main road and far, far away from Sarah and him.

  He ducked behind the corner on the chance that the sheriff might glance that way as he turned. His shoulder bumped something, and he turned to find Sarah standing next to him, her lip quivering.

  “I think we’re all right.” His breath formed a cloud in front of them. “But let’s wait another minute.”

  She nodded and hugged her arms around herself.

  “Then let’s get to your buggy.”

  Worry lines crinkled around her eyes. “Jah.”

  John was not a parent, but his heart twisted within his chest as he imagined what Sarah must be feeling, in danger and separated from her only child. He, too, yearned for the sweet presence of the child, a realization that nearly knocked the wind out of him. So far, they were unharmed, but he wanted to check on Lyddie’s safety and then move on to a safe place.

  Quiet surrounded them, and after another glimpse around the corner showed no vehicles, he ushered Sarah back around the Dumpster and through the arborvitaes. In a few minutes, they had untied Lightning and were back in the buggy. Sarah grabbed a couple of heavy blankets from the back and settled one around her shoulders, handing the other one to John. He pulled it over his back and around front, grasping it in one hand as he held the reins in the other.

  “Perhaps the blankets will make us look different than we did in the market, in case the sheriff drives by again.” He gave his tch-tch to the horse to urge him forward.

  “Jah. But what if they do not?” Sarah leaned back, as if to hide farther in the recesses of the buggy.

  “We’ll handle that if it happens. Could they recognize Lightning and the buggy?” The horse twitched his ears at the sound of his name.

  “An Amish person would, for sure and for certain. But probably not an Englischer. Would they not pay more attention to cars than to horses? And I do not think the sheriff has been here long enough to become familiar with everyone and their animals.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right.” No matter what others might think of the Amish, and he certainly had no recollection of what his impressions had been before he hit his head, Sarah was a very bright and perceptive woman. Yes, she would be considered old-fashioned. Yes, they chose to live differently from the rest of the world. But that didn’t mean they were any less intelligent. If anything, her slower pace of life had probably served her well and made her notice much more.

  As they drove away from the market, Sarah took back the reins.

  “Is there a different way we can return to Katie’s house? Just to be safe?”

  “Jah. But it will take a little longer.”

  “That’s fine. I think that would be the safer course of action.”

  John was relieved to give up the control of the horse to the person who knew better what to do. Driving an animal to pull a buggy was something that took more skill than he seemed to have at the moment. He peered out the small window and strained his ears for any cars approaching, but the couple of vehicles they did encounter just passed slowly.

  “Who was with the sheriff? Did you catch his name?”

  “Jah. The sheriff introduced him as Simon Carlyle.” She glanced at him as if expecting a reaction.

  John tumbled the name about in his mind. Were there any connections? He shook his head. “It sounds familiar, like so many other things, but I just can’t place it. And I didn’t recognize his face. What else did the sheriff say?”

  “They said they were looking for someone they had not seen in a while and asked about the man who had been at my house.”

  “Me.” The sour taste of bile coursed upward in his throat. “What did you say?”

  “I did not lie.” Her voice was adamant, but was she trying to convince him or herself? “I said he was no longer there. That is true. You are not at my house. You are here.”

  He grinned, that feeling of the simple upward curve of his lips bringing a needed sense of relief, howsoever brief. “That was clever thinking. And I agree. You did not lie.” He peered out the window and saw nothing, hoping, in vain, to continue that respite from worry. Whether there was another vehicle there or not, he would still worry...until his full memory returned, and he could fulfill whatever obligation he had that was upcoming, an obligation that he hoped and prayed would end the danger for Sarah and for himself. “This Simon Carlyle was not wearing a police uniform, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not the dirty cop.”

  “It does not mean, either, that he is.”

  “And he wasn’t the one on the snowmobile, the one who shot at us in the woods near your house?”

  “No. I have not seen him before.”

  “So, we have no more information now than we did before we went to the market.”

  “We have the name and face of Simon Carlyle. Perhaps that will come to have meaning for you in Gott’s time.”

  It sounded nice to hear from Sarah’s lips, but John was beginning to doubt whether he would ever remember anything more.

  The return to Katie’s house was uneventful, and relief coursed through John at the sight of it. Inside, after a long hug for both Sarah and John, Lyddie returned upstairs to play with the twins, and Sarah filled her friend in on the basics of their trouble at the market.

  Katie quickly fixed mugs of hot chocolate and set out a plate of oatmeal cookies. “For warmth and comforting,” she said. “And you must not return to your house but stay here. Whoever these men are, they will not know you are here.”

  “But the sheriff might. If he does not know yet that we are friends, he could find out by just asking around. And then if he brings that trouble here...” Sarah seemed to swallow hard, unable to finish her thought.

  “Sarah’s right. We can’t stay here, but thank you for offering.” John glanced toward the stairs, but only giggling trickled down from the second floor. “The danger has now increased since we stayed last night. I don’t want to bring that to you or to any of the Amish community.”

  Sadness shadowed Sarah’s eyes. “Jah, we must go. We will take Thunder also, behind the buggy, so you do not have the task of caring for another large animal.”

  Katie placed a hand on Sarah’s arm. “You must leave Lyddie here. With me.”

  Sarah held her breath for a long moment and then exhaled slowly. “It pains me, but I had hoped you would offer.”

  An odd sensation coursed through John. He would miss Lyddie’s smile and blond curls, and yet he knew they had to consider her safety, as well. Plus, it would be easier to stay safe with just the two of them. “Jah, it is the right thing.”

  Sarah smiled at his use of the Pennsylvania German, but as she turned toward the stairs to call for her daughter, he spied her wiping away a tear. Was she trying to hide her concern from Lyddie and the twins so that they weren’t scared? Or was she worried about whether she would see her daughter again?

  If John wanted to admit the truth to himself, it was probably both.

  Lyddie bounded down the stairs as the women stood from the table.

  Sarah seemed to paste a smile on her face as she turned to the child. “Lyddie, John and I need to go out, but you are going to stay here with the twins and Katie. I will be back as soon as I can.” She pulled
Lyddie into her embrace.

  “How long will you be gone, Mamm?” The child leaned into Sarah, and John felt a tear spring to his own eye.

  “I do not know, liebchen.” Sarah’s voice quavered with emotion.

  Katie stepped toward the pair and put her hands on Lyddie’s waist to pull her around gently. “We will make fresh cookies and bake bread, and you can play more with Ruth and Rebekah. We will have a gut time.”

  Lyddie paused to study Katie and then turned to her mother for one more hug before she ran for the stairs. Sarah dried her eyes with the hem of her apron as Katie packaged up the rest of the oatmeal cookies and handed them to Sarah. “Where will you go?”

  “School is not in session, so we will hide in the apartment that is over the school. We will be warm, and there are some dry goods the parents brought during the fall term. The small barn will house Thunder and Lightning, and we will take Snowball. She will help look out for us.”

  “Before we go...” John let his sentence trail off, to gather his thoughts. He couldn’t trust many people with his nearly nonexistent memory, but he knew the faith of these two women was solid. The memories summoned by the attack at the market were tantalizing, the odor of the ink and paper of the money still tickling him. Desperation to involve law enforcement pounded at him, but if he made a blind call without enough of his memories, he could call the wrong person and get them both killed.

  “Before we go,” he began again, “could you two pray that my memory returns?”

  “Jah. We have been praying already.”

  “What is on your mind?” Sarah pulled her cape around herself.

  “I’m struggling to remember something important that is coming, and I feel like I need to remember soon. Prayer is always a good idea, right?”

  The women gathered close to John and bowed their heads in prayer, asking the Lord for the return of his memory and the safety of them both as they traveled to a hiding spot.

  His shoulder nearly touched Sarah’s, and he inhaled deeply to replace the odor of money with her sweet smell of cinnamon and apple pie. He had only good memories of her—her beautiful face as he awakened in her guest bedroom, her delicate hands as she handed him the cup of chamomile tea, the dusting of flour on her cheek as she made pie crust—and he cherished those as a drowning man grabs onto a life preserver. She had been kind and caring and generous from the start. If he were not to recover his memories but were forced to start over, those would be pleasant memories to have at the forefront of his new life.

  The unison amen startled him from his musing.

  “Thank you.” John pasted a smile on his face, praying it would encourage the women. “Let’s go, then.”

  Sarah and Katie hugged their goodbyes as John stepped ahead to the door and checked the backyard. All was clear as far as he could tell, but he would never let Sarah go first.

  * * *

  After one more hug from her daughter, Sarah touched the reins to Lightning’s back and urged him down the lane. John sat beside her, blankets at the ready if the cold became too bitter, the malamute trotting alongside. The winter afternoon sun slanted across the yard, casting long shadows over the road. Winter had always been Sarah’s favorite time of year—silent snowfalls, sledding, hot mugs of cocoa, warm mittens, cozy quilts. But now? With this danger? A few brown leaves leftover from autumn skittered across the road, startling her and making her look in both directions, as she half expected a bad man to jump out and accost them.

  She cut her eyes at the man who sat next to her, the police officer who couldn’t even remember his name. He sat tall and strong, keeping vigil over the countryside in all directions. Jah, she felt safe with him, but he was still just a human being against weapons that could kill. For not the first time in her life, gratitude for her peaceful Amish life overwhelmed her.

  He turned suddenly and caught her staring at him. His green eyes flashed at her, and she adjusted her grip on the reins to hide the trembling in her hands. At least the shaking in her knees was hidden by her skirt and cape. She broke the contact and turned quickly back to the road.

  The feeling of attraction wasn’t new to her. The memory of her deceased husband enveloped her, and a yearning for that close companionship overwhelmed her. Some days—many days—she felt completely and utterly alone. But her husband had been Amish, and their union was sanctioned by the holy Word of Gott and by the Amish church. A relationship with this man beside her could not happen, not without leaving the Amish church, something she was not willing to do.

  “What is this apartment like?” The low rumble of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she used her free hand to rub her arm, hoping to pass it off as a chill from the cold.

  “It is small with only two bedrooms, fit into the attic space of the school building.”

  “And it’s for you since you’re the teacher?”

  “Jah. Because of the amount of land available here in northern Indiana, unlike in Pennsylvania where it is quite crowded, the Amish farms and families are more spread out. Sometimes, a teacher has to travel quite a distance to get to the schoolhouse. Especially for the younger girls, the ones who are not yet married, it is too far to travel every day, back and forth to their family’s home. So, the teacher could live in the apartment during the week and then go home to family on the weekend. Also, we will not pass it on our route, but there is a very busy road with only a yellow blinking light at the intersection that most have to cross. It is dangerous in a horse and buggy.”

  “Are most teachers unmarried?” He shifted in his seat as he turned to check out the back window, and Sarah caught a whiff of his masculine aroma of fresh-cut wood and the wool of his Amish coat.

  She swallowed down the dryness in her throat. “Jah, I am unusual. But our church district was kind and generous and gave me the position after my husband died so I could provide for Lyddie. I wanted to stay in the house I lived in with my husband. His death was enough to handle already. I did not want that abrupt change of moving to the schoolhouse apartment. And I wanted a more normal home life for my daughter. So, I stayed in our house, and I manage the traffic every day we have school.”

  As Lightning pulled them over a small rise in the road, the white clapboard schoolhouse came into view. With the exception of only a small barn to the back and side, it stood alone on a large parcel of land. A fence ran along the edge of a tree line, the bare branches scratching and clawing at each other in the wind.

  “Is that the school?”

  “Jah.”

  John seemed to study the scene, his fingers scratching across his stubble that was quickly becoming a beard. But only married Amish men wore beards. If they weren’t careful, the Amish neighbors might believe him to be a married man, and that would not do for Sarah to ride about with a married man.

  “I don’t see tracks in the snow, other than what appear to be from animals. I can tell better when we get closer, but at this distance, they appear to have their typical irregular patterns. Of course, Carlyle—you said that was his name, the man from the market?—wouldn’t have any reason to come to a closed-up Amish schoolhouse.”

  Sarah nodded and, a few moments later, got Lightning and Thunder comfortable in the barn. There was very little space for the buggy, so she and John maneuvered it to the back side of the barn. Hopefully, it would be hidden from the road there. She was just grateful that her horses would have warmth and shelter.

  She led the way to the back door of the schoolhouse, keeping Snowball close by her side. John followed, using a branch with a few leaves left to try to smooth over their tracks in the snow. The sky was heavy with dark clouds, but that did not always portend a snowstorm.

  As they entered the cloakroom, the schoolroom with the empty desks and the cold woodstove visible through the doorway, John turned questioning eyes to her. “When does school start?”

  “Soon.” Sarah instructed Sn
owball to stay close outside as she closed the door and then removed her bonnet and hung it up. A scarf and a pair of mittens hung on a hook, probably left by a pupil, and one child’s lone lunch box rested on the shelf above the hooks.

  John stepped close behind her and peered over her shoulder into a small room adjacent to the cloakroom. “What’s in there?”

  “All the rooms are connected on the first level. That is our recess room, where we keep our equipment for the children to play with outside. Baseball is very popular with the boys, so we have a number of balls and bats. The girls like to jump rope. A few other things.”

  She led him through the schoolroom and to the stairs at the side of the building. Upstairs, the entire apartment was visible from the landing. “There are two bedrooms because sometimes there are two or three teachers, depending on the number of students.”

  John quickly claimed the bedroom closest to the stairs. “To better protect us,” he said.

  Sarah stepped into the other bedroom. It was comfortably sparse and plain, just like home, and the only wall decorations were a calendar with the wrong month and a clock whose batteries must have died.

  Gott, protect us here and keep us from that fate.

  But the little space was warmed with colorful quilts draped snugly over the beds and, in the main area, a handsome solid-wood table with four chairs. Sarah placed her small bag on the chair next to the bed and returned to the kitchen. Even though it was still midday, the heavy cloud cover created shadows that slanted across the walls, but it only took a moment to light the kerosene lamp.

  In the cupboard, she spied some canned goods and dishes stacked neatly. From the back, she retrieved a couple of quart-size jars of vegetable soup. If she remembered correctly, this soup had been given by a student’s mother, a woman who was renowned throughout the church district for her flavorful blends of vegetables and stock and spices. Sarah felt a smile stretch across her face as she found a box of crackers and a jar of peach slices. They would eat well tonight, and nothing could comfort so well as a bowl of steamy, delicious soup.