Amish Country Amnesia Read online

  “Look. I can’t remember all the details yet. But I know that Simon Carlyle, the guy from the market, is a dirty cop. He was extracting payment from a man who goes by the name Jimmy the Bruise in exchange for protection. Jimmy is the man with the birthmark, the head of a counterfeiting ring. He’s the one we saw at the snowmobile crash site. I need to testify in a trial coming up soon. And I think I know who to call for help.” He stood and grasped her arms. “At the very least, to keep you safe.”

  John’s voice had risen with emotion, and she put a finger to her lips to quiet him.

  “What about your friend? Isn’t there a phone shanty outside her barn?” He kept his voice low, but an urgency sparked in his eyes.

  “Katie? No. That is the opposite direction of home. And I do not want to bring trouble to Katie. She is raising her twins alone, and Lyddie is there. Neither do I want to bring trouble on Mammi Mary, but she does not have a phone anyway. And the market is too far away.” She returned the glass to the sink. “It is best to head to the neighbor closest to the schoolhouse, a couple of miles down the road. They are out of town, but we can use the telephone in the shanty near his barn. Perhaps the police could find us there?”

  “That’ll do. How long will it take to get there?”

  “Long enough that we should bring the quilts on the beds for warmth. What about our things we brought from my house?”

  “Leave them. God willing, we’ll come back to collect them.” Urgency tinged his voice. “Right now, let’s get moving and get to that phone. This storm that’s coming is only going to make it worse.”

  Had that hasty departure from home only been yesterday? Right now, as she pulled the quilt from the bed, it seemed as if her life had been spent on the run. The idea of home had never been so sweet.

  Fat flakes of snow began to flutter down outside the window, but that only drove her on. She rushed past the window again on her way out of the room, and the snow had grown from flurries to a steady fall in just those few seconds. That would make the drive that much more difficult and slow, but what else could they do?

  She had no reason not to trust John. If he thought they were in danger staying in the schoolhouse, then who was she to say any different? Better to take her chances out in the snowstorm with John than to risk facing a gun in the schoolhouse.

  * * *

  John hastily folded his quilt but couldn’t help but stare for a brief moment out the window. Large snowflakes quickly covered the plowed road. It wouldn’t be easy going, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. With the responsibility for the lovely Amish woman weighing heavy on his shoulders and a come-and-go memory that he couldn’t rely on, his resources were minimal. Instinct, really, was all that he had. That and prayer that God would protect and provide.

  All he knew right now was that they needed to get to a telephone as quickly as possible.

  Strike that. That wasn’t all that he knew. He knew that he shouldn’t just think about prayer. He should do it. But surely God would understand if he kept his eyes on the weather outside and his feet in motion to the door.

  God, there’s a vague inkling somewhere deep in my soul that we used to talk to each other a lot. And now you know me better than I know myself, although that has probably always been the case.

  We need protection as we travel through this snowstorm, and I need to be able to reach someone trustworthy when we get to that telephone. Please, put a special protection around Sarah. If anyone gets hurt, let it be me.

  Sarah’s shoes clacked on the wood floor as she emerged from the bedroom, quilt in hand. Tension radiated from the fine lines around her mouth and eyes, but as she caught his gaze, she forced a smile.

  The woman truly was beautiful. Her blue dress with the white apron contrasted against the deep brown of her eyes, and even though she didn’t wear any hint of makeup, her smile made his heart beat more urgently.

  “Ach, John, are you ferhoodled?”

  He cleared his throat. “Um, no. I’m fine. Ready?”

  But at the top of the stairs, a muffled sob sounded behind him. He spun back to her to find anxiety in her eyes and tears on her cheeks.

  She had been trying so hard the past few days to keep going and stay strong, and now she looked ready to crumble. John rushed to her and gathered her in his arms. She seemed to melt into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Soon, dampness from her tears soaked through his shirt.

  “I am sorry for crying on you, John.” She touched his shoulder where it was wet.

  His hand, as if on its own, found her hair and pressed her to him. “No, no. It’s my fault. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I...” What if something terrible happened to her? As he held her, it became perfectly clear that he cared for her deeply. Did he even want to go back to whatever life he had had if he couldn’t take her with him? Before they headed out into the snow and all that awaited on the other side of the door, should he tell her how he felt? “Sarah, I want you to know that I care for you. A great deal. Do you think—”

  Snowball barked from the yard below, jerking his attention to the nearest window.

  A dark car drove over the ridge and into view, cutting off his question and, indeed, his very thought. His arms stiffened around Sarah, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the vehicle. It was coming fast. Too fast.

  The driver seemed to hit the brakes too late and slid through the turn into the lane that led to the schoolhouse. John stepped toward the window, one arm still around Sarah, and peered out at the car. There were two people in the front seat, and the one in the passenger seat was definitely not Amish. He couldn’t make out faces, but both seemed to have the scrunched sinister look of someone on a mission. An evil mission. A throbbing began in his temple, and he swallowed hard.

  He stole a glance at Sarah and saw what he had expected. Fear. “Do you recognize that vehicle?”

  “No.”

  He squeezed her around the waist, praying it would infuse her with courage. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

  They ran to the door, but the car had turned into the lane. Their time was running out.

  What if they had left just two minutes sooner? Would they be safe now? But how could they have gone any faster? They had grabbed their outer garments as soon as he had remembered who to call.

  At least the enclosed staircase on the outside of the building was on the side of the school opposite from the lane. Their exit could be hidden if they got down soon enough. He opened the door to the apartment, and the wind whipped up through the staircase with a ferocity that took his breath away. Snow swirled in his face, but there wasn’t time to linger.

  Taking two steps at a time, John led them down. The dog continued barking as John paused at the open doorway at the bottom and peered around. The door that led into the schoolhouse stood immediately to his right, but it did not look as if it had been tampered with. He strained to hear the thrum of the car over the brutal wind. It was still running, but the engine didn’t have the sound of a vehicle in motion. So far, they were ahead of the men in the car, but not by much.

  Hesitation could cost them their lives. But should they make a run for the barn, through the open yard? That would be their escape, with the horse and buggy, although a buggy could never outrun an automobile. Or should they seek shelter inside the schoolhouse? But that could be their trap if there was no way out once they entered.

  Before he could decide and act, the trim around the door exploded. Sarah yelped as he stepped back, one arm flung up to protect his face and the other arm out to hold Sarah back behind the shelter of the enclosure.

  A shot had been fired, and it had missed him by mere inches.

  His decision had been made for him. He jerked the door open, and with his back to the yard, shielding Sarah, he pushed her into the schoolhouse in front of him. The wind slammed the door shut behind them.

  “Get down.” He s
quatted, and Sarah followed.

  They inched toward the teacher’s desk at the far side of the room, although John wasn’t sure why he was leading them there. He desperately scanned the room, but he couldn’t see anything helpful in the old-fashioned wooden desks with wrought-iron legs, the bookshelf, the colorful artwork on the walls. At least the green shades were pulled on the windows, but there was nothing that would protect them from another bullet.

  They were trapped and completely at the mercy of their pursuers, just like the mouse in Sarah’s barn that the cat had caught. But would their end be the same as the mouse?

  FOURTEEN

  Sarah clutched her full skirt in her fist, desperate to keep from stepping on it as they crept through the schoolroom. She threw up a prayer for Snowball. Her barking outside had stopped, but Sarah had no way to know if the dog had been bribed with a treat or harmed in some way.

  John halted, a hand up to pause her. He turned first to the left and then to the right, probably to scan for danger that may have followed them into the school.

  Tears threatened, but she blinked hard to keep them at bay. She refused to let them win. Jah, it was true that self-defense was not the Amish way. But how often did someone committed to the Amish church and the Amish way of life have her life endangered? Some picked at them from time to time, teased them for being old-fashioned. But threatening her life? It was unheard of, at least in the Indiana Amish communities.

  She teetered on the heels of her boots and grabbed a fresh fistful of skirt. What was wrong with running away from danger? Nothing that she could tell. It was human instinct, for sure and for certain.

  “What now?” Her voice was such a low whisper that she was not sure John had heard her.

  But then he turned to her, and the urgency in his green eyes made her forget everything around her. He didn’t respond verbally, but he squeezed her free hand, warmth and confidence and security passing from him to her in his look and in his touch.

  As difficult as it was, she forced herself to pull away. To look away. Anywhere but at him. The whole situation was quickly becoming—jah, had already become—overwhelming, especially since John’s profession that he cared for her. Why did the Englisch think they had to voice everything on their minds? Perhaps some things were better left unsaid.

  The gloom of the schoolroom seemed to swallow them. As the snowstorm outside intensified, a similar gloom stole over her. She had to admit, if only to herself, that she was falling in love with him, despite what wisdom would advise. But she certainly had no intention of telling him. What would that accomplish?

  And especially in the midst of this trouble. She had been ejected from her home out of sheer fright. She had been chased at the market, too afraid to go back to the shelter of her friend’s house. And now the shot that she had been fearing for days had actually been fired.

  Peaceful. That’s what her life had been. Her whole life, up until now, had been lived in harmony with her family, her community, her circumstances. It had not been easy when her husband was killed in the buggy accident, but it had not been like this. Overwhelming. Frightening. Unbearable. She wanted to crumple on the ground and give in. Give up.

  Was this the valley of the shadow of death? How did the rest of that psalm go? She had learned it as a little child in school, but now she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts straight.

  Lyddie’s voice reciting the psalm rose up in her mind, and she could almost feel her soft little hand pressed on hers, a gentle whisper of a touch.

  Jah, she would fear no evil, for Gott was with them. Wherever they ran, His rod and His staff would comfort them.

  Sarah closed her eyes in quick prayer. Her daughter needed her mother to guide her, to protect her, to love her. Sarah would not let her down. She would be strong, if only for her daughter, a wunderbar blessing from Gott.

  John wobbled on his heels, drawing her attention. He looked at her expectantly, but she wasn’t sure what he wanted except her trust. He had been a hero, even though he was the injured one. He had protected her, guiding and directing their way to keep them from harm.

  But now he looked at her with anticipation imprinted on his handsome face. Just as she needed John to stay strong for her, she needed to stay strong for him. No matter what the future may hold for them, they were in this together, at least for now.

  Bobbing forward onto his knees, John grasped her upper arms. She startled, but he squeezed her gently, filling her with encouragement. “You know the school and the area better than I do. How can we get out of here and to that telephone? Can we get to Thunder and Lightning and the buggy? Or is there a faster mode of transportation?”

  He was still hopeful, still trying, even though he surely knew the answer. “No, there is nothing faster. We only have the horses and the buggy.”

  “Okay, we’ll do our best. What’s the fastest way to the barn?” A door slammed from the front of the schoolhouse. John popped up, turning his head toward the sound, and Sarah followed. “Lead us. Go!”

  She turned to the back of the room and maneuvered quickly through the desks. Skirting the teacher’s desk, a brief memory of calm and quiet school days with eager students flashed in her mind. A door stood behind and to the side, and she dashed through the doorway, pausing just inside to make sure John had followed.

  “The recess room?” John looked around at the baseball bats in their wooden storage box, the shelf of softballs, the pegs with jump ropes and a couple of scarves left behind.

  Over John’s shoulder, she spied the two men she had seen before as they entered the other end of the schoolroom.

  “John!” She kept her whisper low. “They are here.”

  Sarah took a small and careful step toward the exterior door. She didn’t dare to look, but she didn’t need to. She knew it was too far away to make a dash for it. Too far away to run to the barn to hitch the horse to the buggy. Too far to get away from the gun he was now leveling at them.

  Before John could turn, a bullet shot through the schoolroom. It seemed to stop near her, but nothing exploded this time. A softball rolled off the shelf next to her, but all she could hear as it hit the ground was her own screaming.

  * * *

  Sarah’s scream sounded muffled in John’s ears as he rushed forward to push her out of the doorway. She held a hand over her mouth, her other hand clutched over her chest.

  He didn’t have time to pick up and examine the softball that had caught the bullet. Something clicked in him, and survival instincts kicked in as he pushed down on Sarah’s back, forcing her to lower herself into a crouch. He apparently had been trained as a police officer. Was that where those instincts originated? Whatever it was, he had to get them out of there, although capture seemed imminent with the advantages in weaponry and transportation their pursuers had.

  With his touch on her back, or perhaps because she had run out of air, Sarah’s screaming had stopped. In the deathly silence, the slow pound of footsteps ricocheted through the schoolroom. John hadn’t been able to turn enough to see the shooter’s face before they had rushed for cover. But whoever it was, he apparently thought they were trapped. He thought he had plenty of time to find them and finish what he came for.

  He was right.

  From his hunched position, John eyed the recess room. He had only a few seconds before the shooter came through the door. His gaze darted about the space, and energy surged through him. Could he take the guy? Maybe, but that wasn’t the best course of action with Sarah there. The Amish were nonviolent and didn’t want to hurt others. That was fine, and he would restrain himself. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t set up the possibility of a simple accident.

  His gaze caught on the bats resting in a wooden box near the door, the handles leaning against the wall.

  That would do.

  Silently, he pointed Sarah toward the exit, and she huddled near the outer door.
Then, he scooped up as many baseball bats as he could fit in his arms.

  The thunder of the footfalls pounded more closely. He held his breath and trained his vision on the floor in the doorway. Too soon, and his plan would flop. He would end up with a bullet through him. Too late, and he could encounter the same fate.

  A second set of footsteps joined the first. Both were there, just on the other side of the door.

  He darted a glance back at Sarah. She stood, wide-eyed, her hand on the doorknob. He nodded at her, and she seemed to visibly calm, filling her lungs with air and then slowly releasing it. Where her confidence in him came from, he had no idea, but he wouldn’t let her down now.

  A boot toe appeared in the doorway. Now! He let loose all the bats, giving them an extra push with his arms. They rolled across the wooden floor, bumping into each other and crashing loudly. One immediately landed on the boot toe, and the toe disappeared back through the door into the schoolroom.

  “Back up!” An angry voice sounded from the next room.

  “No. Forward.” The owner of that command seemed to be the one in front, for the toe of the boot appeared in the doorway again, kicking at the equipment. Bats rolled and clunked across the floor, now ricocheting back toward John and Sarah.

  Without a sound, John gestured toward the door and mouthed, “Go!”

  She pulled the door open and stepped outside, Snowball running to meet her. Snow immediately swirled in. In three steps, John was right behind her. As he closed the door, he checked over his shoulder. Jimmy the Bruise had come through the door and was slipping on the bats, about to hit the floor, his weapon waving wildly. The other, Carlyle, grasped the door frame, desperate to stay upright.

  Without looking, he whispered to Sarah. “Get to the barn.”

  The two continued into the recess room, wobbling over the rolling baseball bats. Jimmy the Bruise leveled his gun at John. Could he duck out the door in time to escape the bullet?

  But then Jimmy fell, his weapon waving wildly. It went off, the bullet screaming toward the ceiling.